I’m sorry, but that’s not going to be possible. Several other individuals have already requested the day off, and we need you to be available, in-office, should any pressing situations arise.

Thank you for your understanding.

You x out the email more violently than usual, not even bothering with a one-word reply. The only individual words you can think of have four letters.

You had a sneaking suspicion your boss was going to deny your vacation request for the day after Thanksgiving–the office-wide vacation calendar already showed all of upper management out Friday, as well as a smattering of lifers who seem to get whatever vacation time everyone else clearly wants.

But that doesn’t make you any less bitter about it. Your office’s vacation policy is based entirely on seniority. And everyone senior is just insipid enough to never, ever leave. Unless folks like Betsy–the ancient secretary who’s been here since the Reagan administration–suddenly decide they need a change of pace, you’re basically not getting a real Thanksgiving or Christmas until someone dies.

You sit at your desk all day, fuming, silently protesting by spending even more time taking BuzzFeed quizzes than usual.

Your parents’ house is only a few hours north of here, but that’s just far enough that driving back post-meal is miserable.


If you want to head to your parents’ and call out sick Friday morning, click here.

If you want to skip your family Thanksgiving so you won’t get in trouble at work, click here.

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