Time flies when you’re having fun doesn’t it?

Or well it should, that has never been the case for me. It has always moved fast when its mundane, when I am doing those simple or boring things that you just have to get done. I don’t know why this is the case, but I am not complaining, it’s pretty useful. I mean, what it feels like is that those mundane tasks are only a third of the time they actually take. Hmmmm…

Its demonstration time! Let’s say that given this first little tidbit of information the mundane parts of the day for me are only 20 minutes per hour. Now I work a fairly standard office job, doing officey things and all that, and out of 8 hours probably 4 of those are mundane and laborious tasks. This means that my workday is now only 5 hours and 20 minutes. This is wonderful news! Time has augmented itself in my strange little brain to give me more of an actual life!

But wait, this can’t only be positive, that would be too easy. Time flies when I am filling out spreadsheets, but it slows down just as much when nothing at all is flipping happening. Those little waits for meetings to start, the microwave, looking through emails checking that all my important tasks are done. That is where I die, I perish, I recede into nothingness. 1 minute is at a minimum 5 in this pocket dimension of boredom. This isn’t a good pocket dimension either. If it was an actual thing it would have the noise of myself perpetually going “uuuuuuuuugh” and 1,000 children falling into a mildly frightening pit of jelly. The first noise is variable, but in your boredom pocket dimension the second part is necessary.

Ignore my forbidden truths, we found another interesting measurement. “1 minute is at a minimum 5” I said in my first world whiny tone. For the sake of my boss, let’s say there is at max 1 hour of that nothingness in a workday. 1 times 5… uh oh. My workday is now 10 hours and 20 minutes. Honestly that feels spot on, so I will allow it, but the dread of being a functioning adult has increased greatly.

I am neglecting to point out what happens during those joyous moments. Leaving work, stealing some candy from the other side of the office while avoiding all human contact, doing my best to imitate karate in the break room. The times when I am happy and content and just having a good ol’ time are surprisingly when time is 1:1, no change, no altering the fabric of the universe. So that doesn’t affect the 3 hours we have left. There is no way I have 3 hours of good times at work. I am sorry office job; there is no way I like you that much.

This is helpful! Not only are we discovering how time works (this is a total and complete account of time, and no one can argue otherwise), but we are figuring out how much I enjoy my job! I am gonna be optimistic and say there is an hour in every workday where I am perfectly happy. This is very optimistic – very optimistic, but I will grant it the benefit of the current doubt and give it this hour. We now have two hours of time, two hours of unknown time. Ooh, you so mysterious you two-hour block of time. Oooooooh.

Those two hours are meetings. Not so mysterious now you cretin.

Meetings tend to move faster for me, mostly because I am interested in what’s happening. Interesting things make time move faster. But meetings have a good chance at being boring too. Boring meetings are akin to nothing, while interesting meetings are only really half the time they actually take. So, even split, an hour of boring and an hour of interesting.

This is not good, again. Those interesting meetings only really feel like a half hour, but the boring ones, that might be another 5. That though, does not feel right, and I will now change things. Boring meetings (or beerings as I call them) are the antithesis to mundane things. They are directly the same distance from the center of the venn diagram, and therefore they should only slow time by 3 times. Bam, interesting meetings = .5, boring equal… oh… 3.

My workday is now… 11 hours 50 minutes? Somebody check my math its getting muddled. Anyway, that’s it though, my workday. I’m such a hard worker. Everyday working so much time, falling into pocket dimensions, battling inner demons that tell me to send anonymous emails to my boss suggesting that a certain 19-year-old gets a raise.

Given this is a definite account of all of time, please be aware that your pocket dimensions of boredom may include myself. I will say hi, but also, I will try and steal your shoelaces. Apologies in advance.