I suppose I should just resign myself to the fact that things are gonna go down the toilet at werk at this time every year.
Whenever the telephone rings after working hours, I tense up. When it's "da boss," I break out in a sweat. When she want to talk to me, I start twitching. When she's using her nice voice... shields up, Mr. Sulu!
[cue "Star Trek" fight music]
It's Monday, 5:00 p.m. I'm starting on Sam Adams Black Lager number two.