The Monday Theater

Picture from Ann H/Pexels

Monday in the office is a fascinating day, perhaps the most interesting of the week.

In the hallways or the coffee areas, people share what they did over the past two days. Everyone wants to know what everyone else did. I do not know if this eagerness for news is to satisfy their curiosity about the lives of others, contributing to the great social tapestry in which we are all woven. Or if everyone is hungry for a competition. And in this case, the winner is the one who presents the best account. The victory goes to whoever engaged in the most adrenaline-fueled activities, whoever went to the most expensive restaurants, whoever was invited to the most extravagant parties.

And on the other side of the conversation are those who shout their adventures from the rooftops. Some of these are narrated with gestures, voice imitations, sighs—in short, a performance worthy of an Oscar. The stories are so detailed that they resemble a mission log; every hour and minute of the time off is reported and reenacted. The actors perform seeking the approval and admiration of the critical listeners.

The competition among the actors is palpable. Just like in an auction, the bids increase gradually until it is no longer possible to increment—or embellish—the facts. The only bid that is dismissed is reality: household chores, preparing children for the school routine, binge-watching series and movies alongside a loved one. Simple, accessible things that everyone can do, but which, unfortunately, do not draw applause from this audience.

When the curtain falls with the alert of a new email or a chat message, the troupe removes their costumes and returns to the real world—a place where the only permitted script is meeting minutes, spreadsheet reports, and discussions about projects and problems.

Monotonous chapters that will repeat slowly until the theater reopens next week.