No, I neglected to tell you that I had to work Saturday night, which is not a night I usually work. I had to work because all our staff were behaving like douchebags and calling in sick over the holiday weekend. Like we're so dumb we don't know what you douchbags are doing. Like we think you're really sick.
Normally, I would've been content to stay at home (or, better yet, go to the Double Down dance at Halocene as planned) and let the staffing crisis play out on its own without me (why should I care, it's my day off!), but this isn't "normally" this is "I really want the job of assistant program director and this is exactly the kind of rising-to-the-challenge, ass-kissing manuever that will help guarantee it's me and not Perving who gets the job." I hate Perving. I'd like to push Perving in front of the Max train.
So, as if the universe wanted to give me my money's worth Saturday night, someone set a huge blaze in a rubbermaid trash can which I got to drag outside (in the midst of its melting down to a sticky goo) and blast it with a fire-extinguisher. I won't lie: it was awesome. It was the highlight of my week. And, for the first time, I actually *did* feel a power-trip as I *made* everybody stand out in the cold for five minutes even though the fire was out and even though I could've let them all back inside. I didn't want to let them back inside, I wanted to punish them all just a little tiny bit for all the various ways they'd all been shits that day. Because, whether they knew it or not, they'd *all* been shits at least a little.