I scored a hat trick on my commute to my freelance job this morning. Had I been playing hockey, I’d be elated, as it would mean that I had scored three goals. However, when it comes to my commute, it means that I just missed the PATH train, just missed the D/B/F/M/whatever the hell else the MTA decides to run down the Sixth Avenue line, and just missed the 7 train.
This wonderous display of piss-poor timing stretched a commute that usually takes me about 50 minutes (and probably would be 45 minutes if not for the fucking tourists in and around Grand Central Terminal) to one hour and 15 minutes.
Aside from the annoyance of just missing trains three times in a row, that one hour and 15 minutes is completely unproductive time, which is not a good thing while trying to juggle two freelance jobs. I’m underground the entire time, meaning that I can’t even check e-mail. Even if I could, as much as I love my Droid, I’m not about to try to do work on it. As it is, half of the texts I send out get cut off in the middle because my sausage fingers keep hitting the return button. I wouldn’t dream of trying to do any real work on the Droid.
I really, really wish I could work from home for both jobs, as even the normal 50-minute commute each way represents 100 completely and utterly wasted minutes. I’m not going to try to sport a halo and claim that I don’t waste some time of my own during the work day, but I’d much rather be harassing friends on Facebook and shoring up the bullpen of my fantasy-baseball team than standing on a platform scratching my ass.