I’d like my fifteen-minute break now, the first of two, of course.
Then I’d like to take my lunch break where I will leave the confines of the workplace for a change of scenery.
I’d like to punch out when my eight-hour shift has ended, after tidying my workspace and locking the door on it until morning.
I’d like to collect my paycheck and cash it at the bank, cold, hard, currency in my grimy little hand.
But I don’t get breaks. I don’t have free time. I don’t get off work.
Lately I don’t even get to sleep through the night.
If only I had some vacation credits to cash, but my employer doesn’t offer those either.
These three are the toughest little tyrants I’ve ever worked for.
[Bad Mommy Disclaimer: this post is tongue-in-cheek, of course. Most of it anyway]