A Real Day Without Women
A real look at what the "Day Without Women" was like for the average male worker.
Diary Entry from Man, Mid-Thirties, Substitute Teacher.
6:45 a.m. Alarm clock goes off. Without opening my eyes, yell "Siri, tell me the weather," but I get no reply. Siri is not in today.
7:00 a.m. Settle on lots of layers and walk out to the car. Turn on Google Maps and enter the name of the school where I am subbing today. Google Maps voice does not reply. She is not offering her services today, nor will she be silenced. Give up.
7:05 a.m. Open up Map Quest to get written directions. While not as efficient, the font is decidedly non-female, lacking the rounded edges and child bearing hips of Comic Sans or the indecipherable babble of Wing Dings 2.
7:10 a.m. Realize I don't actually know if I'm going to the right school because my digital assistant Amy didn't send me a reminder. I try to recall the last email exchange with my principal, but only remember that mumu like dress she was wearing last week. What a waste of a body.
7:33 a.m. Arrive only 3 minutes late to what I think is the right school. It doesn't matter since there is a massive teacher shortage in all schools today. Walk into a classroom with 114 students, 23 of whom have special needs. Their aides are noticeably absent. A single tear rolls down my cheek.
11:15 a.m. Practically sprint to the teachers' lounge in search of coffee. Sentient Amy did not refill the coffee pots today. Briefly wonder where the school nurse would keep any expired prescription stimulants. Even if she were in the office, which she's not, that would probably be a long shot. Curse under my breath that I won't be able to send my most unruly kids down for a temperature check for a brief respite from the madness.
12:15 p.m. Run to the cafeteria to escape. Realize I am starving because I forgot to eat breakfast. I wait in the lunch line for 42 minutes while the single lunch-gentleman ladles sautéed lard on to each plate. Michelle Obama also took the day off saying "fuck it, let them eat cake."
3:45 p.m. Arrive home. Kick off my shoes. I am exhausted. I yell "Alexa, read me a story" but all I get is silence.
5:00 p.m. Today was not a good day and I need a pick-me-up. Yell "Cortana, call Mom," but get nothing. Feel sad that Cortana too has left me. Feel sadder when I realize my mom is also off the clock and not available to rebuild my ego.