Final Saturday morning

In the interest of schedule adjustment to accomodate my wife's travel plans for a national conference, I worked a Saturday for the first time in ages. And given that it's the end of month madness, and that working Sundays tends to be the domain mostly of the west-coaster minority in the office, it was good to get a reminder of what Saturdays look like.

As I'd said before, dress code is a little on the lax side, since no one really cares what you look like on the phone, but Saturdays are a whole new level. Pajama pants, sweatshirts, t-shirts - everyone doing their absolute best to look like they all just rolled out of bed from a late-night at the bar.

Saturdays also have a more manic edge to them then Sundays. Saturday is never supposed to be a day of rest - it's a day of activity, of people working, of things happening. So there's none of the guilt of Sundays, and all of the excitement of possibly catching someone that isn't expecting it.

People are loud, people are a little crazy from the short day - it's a manic burst of energy for the morning, leaving the afternoon for everyone to play.

And at noon, it's the west coasters again. The few, even on the last weekend of the month.