The U. S. Department of Labor states, “Hazard pay means additional pay for performing hazardous duty or work involving physical hardship. Work duty that causes extreme physical discomfort and distress which is not adequately alleviated by protective devices is deemed to impose a physical hardship.”
Soldiers in Afghanistan receive hazard pay. One would expect that. Policemen and firefighters get hazard pay. Of course. And I, in my highly dangerous, life-threatening office job, OUGHT to receive hazard pay. After all, it’s my inalienable right. I’m entitled to it. I deserve it. Right?
And what is so hazardous about having a day job in an mild-mannered office at a conservative university (other than associating with women who are freaked out because of PMS)?
I thought that you would never ask.
Today, my boss called me into his office. I was told that my mission is to take five department chairmen out to lunch by the end of next week. Five lunches in six working days. Five lunches at the fine dining restaurant on campus. Oh, the horror of it all.
Can’t you just see the artillery tanks of cholesterol rumbling through my arteries setting up camp and hunkering down? Can’t you hear my cellulite shout hosannas for the reinforcements that will be shoring up their numbers? Can’t you hear the groans of my scales when I step on them after all of the food consumption that I am being forced to ingest?
I can hear the harpy cry of the chocolate dipped coconut macaroon cookies. “Eat me. Eat me. Eat me.”
My spine tingles in fear of the onslaught from the mint brownies after my defenses are weakened by the macaroons.
Will I be given bullet-proof will power to resist the high-calorie food? What protective devices will there be to alleviate all of physical hardship from all of the food consumption that is bound to happen? What relief will I be given for the extreme physical discomfort of heartburn and overeating? Maylox? Mylanta?
The fallout will be that I will still be too full to fix supper for my dear husband when I get home in the evening. I fear his succulent meal will be a dried crust of bread and tepid water.
Friends and family members, rally ’round! Take up arms! Call my boss and demand, “Give Nina hazard pay or give her an early retirement.”
Call now. My current weight is depending on you.