Within the last few years, social scientists have noticed an increase in a never-before documented phenomenon: often when they ask an employed person how he or she is doing, the individual will reply not by stating his true feelings, but rather, the day of the week.
Instead of the perhaps more honest answer — “This job is degrading. I hate my boss. My dreams are more dead than my husband’s limp dick.” — said people are more likely to sigh and force a sad smile, saying, for example, “It’s Monday…”
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Scientists have coined the term “Conditional Mood Disorder,” or if you prefer, “C…How Miserable I Am?” The main symptom of Conditional Mood Disorder (CMD) is an inexplicable increase in happiness as the week inches closer to Friday.
CMD is not yet recognized in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, but it is indubitably worthy of entry. An inherently dishonest personality disorder, people experiencing symptoms of CMD have lost touch with their ability to communicate openly, couching their opinions or melancholy mood in euphemisms.
For readers unfamiliar with the disease, here are some common translations –
– “It’s Monday…” = “Five more days before I can drink myself blind.”
– “It’s Tuesday…” = “It still feels like it’s goddamn Monday.”
– “It’s Wednesday…” = “Hump day. I’m halfway there…but I’m still very much unhappy.”
– “It’s Thursday…” = “One more day and I can temporarily escape this shit-hole of an office and actually live a couple of days for me!”
– “It’s Friday!!!” = “Fuck y’all! I’ma go get my party on!!”
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NOTE: on a Friday, if an employee with CMD gets stabbed on the way to work, it is highly probable that he or she will come into the office screaming –
Person: {looks down at his/her rapid blood loss, then elated as hell} “IT’S STILL FRIIIIIDAY!!!”
In more severe cases of CMD, patients will say, “Thank God it’s Friday,” showing a level of desperation that, frankly, saddens many in the scientific community. These unfortunate sufferers exhibit such a high level of desperation that they feel the need to praise a possibly nonexistent deity simply because they were able to make it through five measly workdays.
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There is an upside to CMD, however: many of the diseased individuals fail to reason that their actual weekend could be just as dreadful as their weekdays (hence our use of the word “inexplicable” earlier). For example, many patients with CMD indulge in a night of heavy drinking on Friday only to wake up the next morning and say –
“Ugh. It’s Saturday…” = “Hangover. Shit, I’m in pain.”
– and Sunday, if not a repeat of Saturday, can also be a letdown for those individuals cognizant enough to realize –
“Ah, crap. It’s Sunday…” = “How is it almost Monday again?!?!”
(AUTHOR’S NOTE: we are using alcohol in this scenario, but we are well aware that not everyone escapes by drinking. Many patients with CMD do meth.)
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To conclude this analysis, we turn to the unfortunate case of Jason Narodick (\NEH’row dik\). In a month-long study of office behavior, a team of scientists observed that, without fail, Jason — a long-time sufferer of CMD — would respond to the query, “How are you doing?” with –
Jason: {sigh, forcing a sad smile} “It’s Monday…”
Another co-worker told Jason that he shouldn’t be doing badly simply because it was Monday; in fact, he suggested, Jason should be doing badly because his last name is Narodick. “Why the fu** haven’t you had that changed?” the co-worker asked.
He probed further, inquiring if “It’s Monday…” means that Jason doesn’t like his job, that he has to wait another five days before the weekend, “which is literally the only time [Jason] get[s] to enjoy [himself].”
Jason took a beat to consider his answer, then ran into the bathroom to cry.
