A Case of the Mondays

you're sitting in the conference room surrounded by all of your successful peers, all of which own homes, drive fine cars and successfully make it to each and every appointment with a chipper attitude and go getter smile. you're a little hung over and strung out from the week and can't quite get a firm grasp on just how these people are doing this each and every day with such an incredible demeanor when beside you, the young corporate shark who's at least five years younger than your youngest sibling reaches into his briefcase, pulls out a small orange bottle and pops what could be, but is not a tic tac. suddenly you notice that everyone in the room is pulling a small orange bottle out of his or her buisiness apparatus and ingesting some sort of small medical miracle. as this happens, you become aware that you have no small bottle and no way of legally obtaining one as you've not recently consulted a doctor about anything other than that wierd rash you caught in miami. you really can't afford to. amd why would you? the only problem you have is that compared to these people you feel a lttle moody. a little down in the dumps from time to time. staring into your styrofoam cup of coffee you wonder what is wrong with these people that they're all taking medicine and what is so right with these people that they all seem so with it while you feel so ho hum? getting up the nerve and so as not to make yourself stand out as obviously unmedicated, you turn to the fellow beside you and ask out of curiosity just what ails him that has him taking whatever is in that little orange bottle. "the mondays," he answers smilingly."yeah, my doctor said i had a bad case of them." shocked, you remind the man that its wednesday, to which he laughs out loud and says "i know, but monday is on its way and I can't wait!" baffled you begin to make your way around the room asking this "with it person" and that what it is that ails him or her to require their use of whatever medicine you saw them take. there's a nervous leg syndrome here, a fear of sharks there, a little moody, a little excitable, a little forgetful, too horny, too happy and so on and so forth. eventually you realize that you're the only one without any prescription for anything and you seem to feel like the sickest in the bunch! suddenly it comes crashing down on you that you are behind the times and have been for quite a while now. all of these successful people are on legal drugs that are prescribed by real doctors for symptoms of what have overnight apparently become legal diseases- diseases that you always assumed were simply part of the human emotional spectrum and experience! diseases that you have! you panic. how can you stack up in today's competitive job market when the competition is all high on drugs that they've obtained legally to create personas that far outshine your own? that's when you remember the party last weekend and the friend you drove  home and the drugs she had stuck in her bra. drugs that you tried and liked. drugs that set you on top of things for awhile.drugs that she left in the console of your car, drugs that are still in there! eureka! still in the console of your shitty buick that's parked right downstairs in the back of the lot where you park it so that no one will know what you drive. no one will see. you discreetly exit the room whispering in the ear of the last person you pass on the way out that you'll be right back. left something in your car, you mumble as you hightail it to your beat up old 1984 buick that's parked in back of the lot far from all the other cars that shine and sparkle and smell of leather and success. embarrassed you quickly get in looking around nervously to see if anyone saw you. reaching into the console you find the drugs that you know are purchased off the street and are illegally manufactured, probably in some other country by starving brown children who eat fruit that they hack out if trees with machetes and beat dogs with sticks when they're not sifting through piles of narcotics at gun point. all you know is that this is going to set you straight for that board meeting up there in that buildeing and you'll have an edge the way all those other people do and you'll come out on top and no one will ever know that you don't have a prescription or a nice shiny car or a case of the mondays. no one will know that you spend days at a time in slumps and ho hums wondering what went wrong. as you lift the drug to your face, there is a tap on the window. with a start, you quickly turn to see a police officer outside staring straight through your buick window at you and your drugs and your shocked face. "step out of the car please," says the officer with a big smile on his face. a smile just like everyone up in that meeting that's about to begin without you. shaking, you do your best to conceal the drugs back inside the console but you know the cop saw you. moments later the board meeting begins and all of your peers take turns offering interesting points of view to a grinning CEO who compliments them all on their flawless ideas and who doesn't even notice that you're not there. You are in the back of a police car driven by that grinning plice officer on your way to jail for possesion of a narcotic, narcotic, narcotic. knowing that its all over for you, that you'll be fired when they find out at that building what you were arrested for and that you'll probably spend what remains of your life jumping through hoops and ducking red tape, you wish that you'd gone to see a doctor sooner about your moodiness. as you brood over this, you can't help but notice that the cop is still grinning at you through the rear view mirror. "what are you so chipper about?" you ask. "Oh nothing," he replies as he opens a small orange bottle and tosses backa couple of what appear to be but aren't tic tacs. "I just can't wait for Monday!"