When the office becomes a gridiron
Dec. 7, 2018
by Ivan Raconteur

Life is like football.

Did you see what I did there? I slipped in a shameless seasonal simile right off the bat.

I’ll justify the use of this literary device because that’s exactly how this week feels to me.

I’m not referring to any specific squad in purple uniforms that some hopeless optimists may have been watching lately. I’m thinking of football in general.

Some weeks at the office resemble a carefree scamper to the end zone. We’ve got good blockers in front of us clearing the path, and everything falls into place just the way we scripted it.

Those are the weeks when life is fun, and we revel in the joy of what we are doing.

Then, there are the other weeks.

These are the times we have to grind out every inch of forward progress in an epic uphill battle.

It seems like every time we look up, there’s a new 400-pound obstacle in our path trying to prevent us from advancing. They’re coming at us fast and furious, until we wonder why the opposition has not incurred a penalty for too many men on the field.

There’s nothing lighthearted or carefree about these weeks. They are brutal slogs through the mud, and we’re not sure if we are ever going to make it to the promised land of the weekend.

In the good weeks, we might sail effortlessly into the end zone on our feet, or fly artistically across the goal line in a majestic swan dive.

The bad weeks aren’t like that at all. We have to fight for every sliver of turf while carrying a pile of problems on our backs as others try to chop our legs from under us.

It isn’t pretty. It’s a gritty, smashmouth journey every step of the way.

If we do reach the weekend, we bash our way forward until we finally break the plane and fall exhausted to the ground, our ragged jerseys stained with mud and blood.

That’s the way this week has gone so far.

Every time I answer the phone or open an email, I see Dick Butkus or one of his cronies staring across the line at me daring me to try to gain some forward progress.

When I was younger I welcomed this kind of challenge and looked forward to epic battles.

Now, they just make me tired.

All I can do is keep fighting and hope we get to the end zone before the whistle blows signaling our next deadline.

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