Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I wake up in Wormhout, right? This little gem in the north of France. I mean, who even knew? I’m a manager, but today felt like I was in a circus.
First off, I’m late. Like, super late. I rush outta my flat on Rue de la République, and I’m already sweating bullets. Why do I always forget my keys? Ugh! So, I’m sprinting down the street, dodging old ladies and their dogs. I swear, they move like they own the place.
I finally get to the office on Rue de l’Église, and guess what? My team’s already in a frenzy. Like, what’s new? Apparently, the client we’ve been working with for ages just pulled a fast one. They want changes—like, yesterday. I’m like, “Dude, chill! We can’t just whip up magic!” But no, they’re all looking at me like I’m the wizard.
So, I’m trying to keep my cool, right? But inside, I’m fuming. I mean, who does that? You don’t just drop a bomb and expect us to fix it in a snap. I’m pacing around the office, and my mind’s racing. I can’t even focus. I’m thinking about the last time I had a decent croissant from that bakery on Rue de la Gare. Man, I could really use one right now.
Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Pierre. He’s like, “Hey, wanna grab a drink later?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m drowning here!” But then I think, maybe I do need a break. So, I tell him, “Sure, but only if you bring me a croissant!”
Fast forward a few hours, and we finally wrap up the client mess. I’m feeling a bit better, but then I step outside. The weather’s gone all weird. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s pouring. Classic Wormhout, right? I’m soaked, and I’m just standing there, looking like a drowned rat.
I decide to walk it off. I stroll down Rue de la Liberté, and I see this cute little café. I’m thinking, “Why not?” I pop in, and the smell of coffee hits me like a freight train. I order a café crème and a pastry. Life’s good again.
While I’m sitting there, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. I’m trying not to eavesdrop, but it’s hard. They’re going on about something ridiculous—like who left the toilet seat up. I’m just sitting there, sipping my coffee, thinking, “Man, I’ve got my own problems!”
After that, I head to meet Pierre. We hit this bar on Rue de la République. It’s packed, but we manage to snag a table. I’m finally relaxing, and we’re laughing about the day. I tell him about the client drama, and he’s cracking up. “You should’ve just told them to chill!” he says. If only it were that easy, right?
As the night goes on, I’m feeling good. We’re sharing stories, and I’m realizing how much I needed this. Wormhout’s got this vibe, you know? It’s small, but it’s got heart. The people, the streets, the little quirks.
But then, just when I think the night’s gonna end on a high note, I spill my drink all over myself. Classic me! I’m laughing it off, but inside, I’m like, “Really?!”
So, I stumble home, still chuckling. Today was a rollercoaster. From stress to laughter, Wormhout really knows how to keep you on your toes. I crash into bed, thinking, “Tomorrow’s gotta be better.” But who knows? It’s Wormhout, after all.