Sometimes, when work seems to drag and I want to think about something other than if Dentyne’s new ads are going to resonate with their target consumer and if Stacey is going wear sneakers with her suit again, my mind drifts and I imagine better working conditions.
There’s obviously a million things that could make work better, but one thing that would really improve my moral would be if my boss hired Chewbacca.
It would make my work say so fun, I think I’d actually look forward to coming into the office.
Just look at him.
Tell me you wouldn’t love to have him greet you every time you step foot into work.
Chewie (of course I’d call him this because we’d be boys) would be the best at inter-office small talk too.
Me: “Damn man, did you see the game? Parker had, what, 180 yards and three touchdowns, right?”
Me: “Fucking right man. So what’s up this weekend, you gonna hang out with that hottie Melissa again?”
If Chewie was my coworker, I’d never have to change the water cooler again, because hello? He’s like a million times stronger than me. Even when I’m drunk.
Another benefit of having a Wookie around would be if any of my interviews started going a little stale. After a particularly bland reply to one of my questions, I could simply tell them, “Look, I’ve got Chewie here next to me. He just told me if you don’t give me some usable quotes, he’s going to come to your office, rip your arms out of your sockets and use them as utensils to eat your ham sandwich.”
Presto! They’d start telling me some good stuff.
Really, the only down side to having Chewie as my work buddy would be the shedding, but c’mon, is that any worse than having to look at Jerry’s suspenders for eight hours a day?
I bet Chewie would even give me a piggyback ride to lunch every day. Now that would be something to put on my resumé.