What are you like the last 10 minutes before work ends?

Still working frantically, and trying to wrap things up. Then, surfing the net for dinner inspiration in the form of a recipe or a place to go out.

cleaning up and crushing cardboard in a industrial bailer. then texting to see if anyone wants to meet up for breakfast.

Since I work for myself, I am satisfied and look forward to my next challenge.

Frantically cleaning up the huge mess I, two five year olds, and a one year old have managed to make while simultaneously trying to get the kids to help, wash their faces if necessary, and finish up their art projects. It’s good times. :)

The soberest I’ll be all day.

Making a conscious effort to leave when I’m supposed to instead of finishing whatever project I’m working on.

Counting the seconds till I can leave. I guess everyone says that but I can’t help it.

anxious. watching the slowest minutes of the day tick by. edging toward the exit. going to the bathroom just so i can make the long ride home, etc…

Last 10 minutes? What’s that?

Mommy, I’m hungry. When’s dinner? Can I sleep in your bed? I’m afraid of the dark.

My day never ends.

<puts iPod touch down to fold clothes>

my job is school
since i don’t like it
it wouldn’t be considered my career
but however
my career is fluther
and music!
and pretty much you have to appreciate every moment you have in this life
since there are so many things you can learn
and yet i wonder…
we are still going to die anyway!

<watches @jonsblond fold laundry and put it on the end of the couch> talk about real time streaming

Gone.

I’m usually reading or online, waiting for the laundry to finish. I’m cleaning up, and being scared that someone is going to attack me. true facts.

i can vouch for @casheroo on this one. she freaks out, even though she works in a nice part of town.

Works ends whenever I’m ready for it to end (at a breaking point or fed up with frustration), so during the last ten minutes of a given day, I am either satisfied with the accomplishments of the day or pulling out my hair and near giving up.

At my last “real” job, I left when my work was done. That could be at 3:45pm or 10:30pm. Sometimes it was 2:00AM if we had picky executive clients.

The temp job had set hours and in the last 10 minutes of a shift, I’d be in the lobby waiting for the car to arrive. The bank gave all employees car rides home after 10PM.

I wait until the last possible moment to leave. I enjoy fluther too much! ;-)

@elchoopanebre Reading that hurt my mind a little bit.

I’ll often spend the last couple minutes writing out a very detailed list of things that must be accomplished the next day, usually ranking most important to least important. That way, I can punch out and not think AT ALL about work until I clock in the next morning, where I can hit the ground running with a prepared to-do list.

@elchoopanebre i think i know what your bulb is smoking there, bub.

I’m usually working right up until the end of the shift. I have to review a blotter of events that occurred during my duty shift and I have to open the armory so that the oncoming personnel can draw rifles, pistols, and radios before they go on duty.

If I opened the store that morning, I’m avoiding eye contact with customers while waiting for my replacement to come back from their 30 min break so I can hand off the keys and dive into the back room for my things. If I’m closing the store, the last 10 minutes are spent checking the pockets and bags of the other employees and putting paperwork away, followed by work-gossip while we walk to the bank. Not particularly strenuous tasks, either way.

Completely and utterly restless and jittery.
I just wanna get the fuck out.

Depends completely on what I’m doing prior to the 10 minutes. I’ll be finishing something up, or likely heading out early from work, cause that’s the person I am.

Probably taking a sip of the Crown Royal that I keep in my desk drawer. A good, long sip.

Oh, look what time it is—4:00pm CDT Friday.

<< gets key, unlocks drawer and opens it, reverently removes purple bag from drawer, eases the purple bag slowly down the liquid curves of the bottle, twists off the cap, and slams a slug of the delicious elixir into a waiting icy glass of Coca-Cola.

Oh, baby!