Right after I quiet quit last year, I was like, “Yes! I showed you, Oppressive Chemistry Lab Overlords.” But then I was like, “Shit, this is boring,” so I got to work coming up with ways to fill that time. Who knew work actually made time go by faster?
I started with a prank on my coworker Marcia, who runs the lab next to mine. She’s got a warm smile I rarely see. She labels her Oikos Triple Zero yogurt with a Sharpie pen so everyone knows it’s hers. Like anyone else would want to eat it. I moved it from the left side of the second shelf to the right side and watched her look for it, then turn to glare at me. That minute just flew by.
Next, I spent a few hours online (nicely eating up a Tuesday morning), and found a selection of frozen dinners with stringent requirements for preparation. Most of them have a total prep time of fifty-five to seventy-eight minutes. There are flaps that must be opened, then closed, all while juggling the power setting from 100% (Incinerate) to 61% (Temperamental Foods Like Cheese), all the way down to 9% (Making a Blowing Sound, But No Heat Involved).
My gears were spinning. I felt engaged again. All it took was stepping away from the grind of the work I’m paid to do.
After hours of browsing, I found a professionally taxidermied peacock on Etsy. Shipping was expensive as fuck, and it took twenty-four hours under the vacuum hood to get rid of the musty smell, but now Beakers sits proudly on my desk. I discovered that the little guy is a real dust magnet. I bought a microfiber mini duster so I can gently swipe every feather, every day. I love poking my head through his fully-fanned tail feathers when someone comes in looking for me. He’s providing hours of fun.
To waste more time, I decided to find an office mate who was more interactive than Beakers. At the pet store, I asked which animal was the most labor-intensive. Now, I have a hermit crab I named Chromatogram who has to be fed a specially formulated pellet every three minutes. I use my new nine-inch stainless steel Grainger Crucible Tongs to hold the pellets so he can’t nip my fingers. Once Chromy and I have bonded, I’ll switch to the Dynalon three-inch plastic tweezers.
While I was in the lab getting the tongs, I came up with two ways to use my free time that involve chemistry. Go figure.
First, I would create a cologne irresistible to all women, including Marcia. An office romance would be a great way to squander time. I knew she was still pissed about the yogurt, but maybe she’d want to make out for a while every day if I smelled great. I set out to replicate the male meerkat’s sex pheromone, an organic miracle that projects so well, potential mates smell it a mile away. After a week in the lab, which passed in a flash, I had my aphrodisiac. I applied a spritz before our staff meeting. As I took a seat, Marcia asked, “Who smells like ass?”
Chemistry was fun. And a real time suck. My next project would burn a tremendous amount of time and would benefit me. I set out to formulate a compound to counteract the tetrodotoxin in blowfish so I could eat a puffer anytime I wanted without dying. I spent a couple months—staying up ‘til 1 AM every night, and working weekends—drawing super-complicated multi-colored chemical diagrams on the white board before discovering the formula. This was going to change the world. I’d be asked to speak at huge, international conferences after winning the Nobel Prize for Biochemical Achievement in the Service of Mankind.
Unfortunately, as I was re-crystallizing the anti-toxin on a hot plate, the insanely volatile diethyl ether solvent caught fire. My lab area was destroyed, along with my white board and the award-winning formula. We had to evacuate the building and stand on the lawn for the rest of the afternoon.
I’ll be crazy busy for the next year-and-a-half (4,688 working hours), restoring my lab space and rediscovering the anti-toxin formula. I might need to quiet quit my job a little more, so I’ll have enough free time to do all of that. I’ll also have to scooch Beakers over a bit to create space on my desk for the Nobel.
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Tobi Pledger lives in North Carolina with her husband and a flock of birds. Her spirit animal is the opossum.