God came in to the office one day. He preferred working remotely and hadn’t been at headquarters in a very long time.
The place was deserted. The only sound was his sandals scraping the linoleum. Finally, as he rounded the corner toward reception, the front door open and Peter entered, in shorts and a t-shirt with the slogan “Soul Survivor.”
Peter stopped abruptly. He hadn’t seen the Boss in millennia. One of the attractions of his job was very little management oversight.
“G-good morning, Your Almightyness,” he said. “What, er, what brings you here on a Sunday?”
“WHERE IS EVERYONE!, ” God thundered.
It wasn’t that He was mad. It’s just the way He talked. It was awkward watching movies with Him because He always knew what was going to happen and insisted on telling you. And then nobody else in the theater could hear the show; He was just so loud.
“Well, sir, they’re all off today.”
“Yes, sir. Day off. At home. Practicing the harp. Meditating. That kind of thing. I just came in to grab something from my office on my way out. Sheila from accounting is having another lawn-bowling party this afternoon.”
“Well, bowling’s really the only thing to do up here, other than play the harp. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that actually, sir. We’re having a bit of a morale-”
“NO, YOU NINNY. WHY ARE THEY OFF WORK TODAY?”
“Well, because it’s Sunday, sir. We’re always off on Sunday. And Saturday, ever since that strike about the un-divine working conditions a century ago.”
“WHAT DOES SUNDAY HAVE TO DO WITH IT?,” God bellowed.
“It’s the day of rest, sir. It’s in honor of you:
‘On the seventh day, God finished his work. And so he rested.’
We take Sundays off because you did. It’s a day of rest.
“REST? REST?!!!! SUNDAY WASN’T A DAY OF REST FOR ME. YOU TAKE SIX DAYS TO CREATE EVERYTHING OUT OF NOTHING AND SEE HOW FAR YOU GET. DO YOU THINK YOU’D FINISH IN JUST SIX DAYS?”
“But sir,” Peter asked, backing up slightly. “You’d done it all by then. The book says you’d created light, then the firmament, then the waters and the land, and the stars and moon. Then you went ahead and made all of the animals and then Adam and Eve. And then you rested.”
“THAT’S IT? I CREATE THE PLACE AND THE PEOPLE AND THEN I’M DONE?”
“Well, … yes. At least that’s what the book says.”
“HOW FAR DO YOU THINK CIVILIZATION WOULD HAVE GOTTEN IF I’D STOPPED THERE? WHAT ABOUT ARCHITECTURE? ELECTRICITY? MACHINERY? LITERATURE? OR A REALLY GOOD BÉARNAISE SAUCE?”
“I guess, sir, that I thought all of those things were all natural byproducts. Once you’d created mankind, they’d eventually come up with good ideas on their own.”
God looked at Peter. Peter withered, thinking of salt pillars.
“IDEAS, YES. BUT GOOD ONES? MANKIND INVENTED THE ELECTRIC PEPPER GRINDER. AND THE SPORT OF DRIVING IN CIRCLES FOR 500 MILES. YOU THINK THEY CAME UP WITH THE REALLY GOOD IDEAS?”
“But what about the day of rest? The scripture is very clear on this.”
“IN ADDITION TO EVERYTHING ELSE I CREATED THAT WEEK, I APPARENTLY CREATED TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS. ON THE SEVENTH DAY, I DID NOT ‘REST’. ON THE SEVENTH DAY ‘I DID THE REST’.”
“Got it, sir.”
“GOOD. NOW GO TELL EVERYONE TO COME BACK TO THE OFFICE.”
“Well, sir, it’s just that everyone sort of enjoys that extra day off. Gives you a chance to re-charge those wings, if you know what I mean.”
God looked at him.
“DO YOU LIKE IT HERE PETER?”
“Uh, sure, sir. Although, now that you mention it, there are a few-”
“DO YOU LIKE IT UP HERE, PETER? BECAUSE I COULD CHANGE THAT FOR YOU.”
“Ah, yes. I see that sir. Yes, sir. I love it. It’s heavenly.”
“I THOUGHT SO. NOW GET BACK TO WORK.”
“Yes, sir. And might I say how very wonderful it’s been seeing you in the office again, sir. It has been such a-”
God looked at Peter. Peter withered again.
“Goodbye sir. I’ll just go round everyone up.”
Peter jogged back out the front door, which slammed shut behind him, leaving God alone in the foyer. In the distance, a water cooler kicked on.
God said, “I HATE MANAGEMENT. WHY DID I EVER CREATE MANAGEMENT?,” and went in search of the coffee machine.