Hey there, fellow warriors of the 9-to-5 grind (or whatever weird hours they’ve got you working)! It’s your girl, Tina, back at it again with another episode of “Why My Job Makes Me Question Reality.” Buckle up, because this one’s a doozy. Grab your coffee, your stress ball, and maybe a snack—this is going to be a long ride.

So, let’s talk about time off. You know, that magical thing we all dream about while staring at the fluorescent lights and pretending to look busy. I swear, asking for days off at my job is like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded—while someone keeps switching the stickers.

Here’s the situation: I was only *really* asking for 7 days off. Seven. Not seventy. Not the whole summer. Just a week and some change. Out of those 9 days I was going to be out, I was already scheduled to be off for two. So, in reality, I was only asking for 7 days. Simple, right? Apparently not.

Fast forward to the approval process, which, let’s be honest, is more dramatic than a telenovela. Out of the 7 days, only 5 got approved. Five! Like, what kind of math are we doing here? I’m not asking for the moon and the stars, just a little time to recharge my batteries (and maybe binge-watch some true crime documentaries).

But wait, it gets better. The following week, I wasn’t even asking for a whole week off. Just two days. Two! You’d think I was asking for a paid sabbatical the way they acted. They told me what I wanted to hear (classic move, by the way), only to turn around and deny my request completely. Like, why even bother with the charade? Just tell me no and let me go eat my feelings in peace.

Meanwhile, someone else—who just put in their request, mind you—gets approved faster than you can say “office politics.” And not just them. Four people, all on vacation at the same time, getting their full-blown days off. Meanwhile, I’m over here, fighting for scraps like a contestant on Survivor.

The cherry on top? Management keeps saying we’re “short-staffed.” Oh, really? Because it looks like you’re handing out vacation days like Oprah hands out cars. “You get a day off! You get a day off! But Tina? Nah, she can work.”

And then, just to rub salt in the wound, they want me to come back for one day, only to be off the next. Like, what kind of logistical nightmare is that? It’s almost like they’re doing it on purpose. (Spoiler alert: They probably are.)

But here’s where it gets truly petty. They act like if you call off after being denied, you’re doing it out of spite. Like I have some magical control over when I get sick. Sorry, Karen, but my immune system doesn’t read the HR handbook. Just because you denied my time off doesn’t mean I can’t catch the flu. Newsflash: People get sick. Things happen. Life is unpredictable—unlike your favoritism, which is as predictable as Monday morning blues.

And don’t even get me started on the paperwork. Oh, the paperwork! They call you into the office, union rep in tow, and slap you with document after document about your attendance. All while smirking like they just won the lottery. Meanwhile, everyone else is out living their best lives on vacation, and I’m over here being treated like the office scapegoat.

It’s like they have a whole playbook dedicated to making my life difficult. “Let’s see, how can we make Tina’s week miserable? Oh, I know! Let’s deny her days off, approve everyone else’s, and then act surprised when she’s upset. Genius!”

Honestly, it hurts. It’s like being picked last for dodgeball all over again, except now there’s paperwork and passive-aggressive emails / individuals involved. But you know what? In life, you can’t win with people who have already decided not to like you. Some folks are just committed to making your career a living nightmare, and there’s not much you can do except keep your head up and your sense of humor intact.

So, to anyone out there dealing with office politics, favoritism, or just plain nonsense—hang in there. You’re not alone. And if you ever need someone to commiserate with, you know where to find me. I’ll be the one in the break room, sipping my coffee, and plotting my next vacation request (because hope springs eternal, right?).

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight—and don’t let them steal your joy (or your PTO).

With solidarity and sarcasm,  

Tina