A Really Positive Work Experience

is what my wife said I should write about

Last week, I wrote about being kidnapped.

[STOP!]

Sorry.

What I meant to say was I wrote about a three-day sales conference I had to attend in Florida.

I considered the tone of my story to land snugly between flippantly jocular and sardonically witty.

My wife described it as a “[expletive] nightmare written by a bitter nutcase looking to get his [expletive] ass fired.”

I didn’t see that at all.

Regardless, I’d planned on writing a follow-up piece about my time at the conference with some signature skelly sarcasm sprinkled in.

But my wife says I need to wait at least three to four months to post my commentary. Apparently, that would provide just enough distance between event and story so company intelligencia doesn’t put two and two together.

Good plan.

(Be sure to mark your calendars for April 29. I’ve much to share with you.)

Under further spousal advisement and as a form of pseudo-therapy, I will instead write about all the positives from my three-day hostage -

[ENOUGH!]

…my three-day magical romp with work colleagues.

My hotel bed was firm.

Free toiletries.

This orange juice glass fit real nice in my hand.

Baby Tabasco bottle!

I found an outlet in this empty meeting room. I charged my phone to 100%.

This is Chicago around midnight on my flight home.

This was my wife’s note she left on the fridge for me. (I told her and the kids not to stay up.)

Here’s the abridged version:

Welcome home!!

We missed you!!

There’s some leftover spaghetti and meat sauce if you’re hungry.

The parakeet got out of his cage and flew into the laundry room and got stuck behind the washer for about 10 minutes until I could coax him out. I don’t know if he pooped back there but could you check anyway?

The strange cinnamon smell still comes and goes by our bedroom closet. I can’t find the source.

Other than that, all’s well.

We are so glad you are home!

I love you!

See what I did there?

I inserted a touching sensitive awwww moment about returning home to my family from this work conference that I can’t tell you about… yet.

My wife is now required to say nice things about this post.

And clap for it.

Seriously — I love you too, baby.

I brought you back a gift.

Twins!

"Hi. My name is Roy." - Now that just sounds stupid. (thehappysidestep@gmail.com)

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