Everybody's Working For The (Long) Weekend

I'm betting a large number of you are reading this from your office, thanks to some asshole boss who doesn't see why you should have the day off when 90 percent of the rest of the world does. Let's commiserate.

Working on holidays sucks so much donkey dong. You sit there, not doing a damn thing because your job generally depends on other people who aren't in — yet you can't relax, because you don't have your couch, your TV, or any of the comfortable accoutrement of an actual day off.

My worst working holiday came on Christmas Day three years ago, when I was but a cub reporter at the New York Post. My day began well, waking up at 7 a.m. to call into the news desk and find out where I was off to.

(For posterity, here's how your tabloid sausage is made: the reporters with no seniority do all the actual footwork, going to the scene, trying to grab witnesses, cops, etc. for quotes and information. They then phone in what they've gathered to the more senior reporters at the office, who combine it with what they've been able to learn via official channels, and write the story up.)

So for me, that meant camping outside of a Bed-Stuy home because we needed to talk to the family of a 16-year-old boy who was mistakenly shot and killed in a drive-by shooting on Christmas Eve. You can imagine how well-received I was, ringing the doorbell of a woman whose only son was brutally murdered not 12 hours earlier.

Finally, around dinner time, the poor woman invited me in to talk. Still crying, she gave me what I needed: which in the case of a tabloid, are "color" quotes that humanize a story. If you think I'm scummy now because I occasionally post about athlete dong, imagine how I felt asking a grieving mother what she was going to give her son for Christmas, a gift he would never open.

I filed my story, got to my parents around 10 at night to open presents, then rushed off to my girlfriend's house to try to get there by midnight, so we could at least technically spend our first Christmas together. I didn't make it in time.

Here are the fruits of my labor that day.

Use the comments to share your stories of working on a holiday, or even how you're making today go by faster. Funny, depressing, pedestrian: let's hear it.