Fluffy Won’t Take Dictation

I’ve long had a problem with absurd holidays. Now I’m from Massachusetts where this is practically an industry. We even have holidays that politicians call “hack holidays.”

This is a state that celebrates Bunker Hill Day, which suspiciously always falls on the same day as St. Patrick’s Day. The so-called Battle of Bunker Hill wasn’t even fought on Bunker Hill but Breed’s Hill. When I was a reporter, I remember covering a huge battle over whether retailers could open on Columbus Day.

At least when I was a kid things closed on holiday (and Sundays). Friendly’s, the movies and a trip to CVS were highlights of a three-day weekend. Today, Best Buy opens at midnight the Friday after Thanksgiving.

But what is the deal with the Take Your Dog to Work Day? This “holiday” makes even less sense than the Take Your Child to Work Day. Let’s face it: unless you work in a pizzeria or an ice cream shop, your child does not want to go to work with you. Places I’ve worked that have hosted these events typically run out of things to do with the precious little darlings by noon. The kids spend the rest of the day whining about when they are going home. It takes the cleaning crew a couple of nights to pull the cookie crumbs, crayons and punch out of the carpet.

And why do they have to hold this during the school year? My parents told me ad nauseam that my job was to go to school. And do we really want to introduce a child to the typical office of gossip, meaningless meetings, complaints about overwork, the biohazard office fridge and the someone who doesn’t flush? Can’t we keep them innocent?

But, at least a child can fetch coffee, photocopy or listen to a vendor pitch a product. What’s Fluffy or Pepper supposed to do for eight hours?

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