Employment Standards Suck

Alan and I are moving ahead in our plan to achieve eventual financial stability.  We both have jobs, which, yay!

And I will never bitch about work, especially not when there are so many still looking.  But.  There is just one tiny wrinkle in the current situation.

I have weekends off.  He does not.  So days off together, of which we once had some, are currently nonexistent. 

And I would like them to be existent.

I went to my boss with what I thought was a brilliant idea: I would use Flextime! 

If I worked four ten-hour days, I could have Wednesdays off and spend some time with my lovely husband and not end up divorced, bitter and unable to concentrate.

She told me she would have to check with Employment Standards.

Having been self-employed for most of my working life, I figured that this was boss-speak for no, that she was just trying to let me down easy.

But curiosity being one of my more insistent vices, I looked it up and, seriously, in order to do that, there have to be written agreements from me, my boss and some faceless bureaucrat who doesn't know me or my boss, or my work situation or my need to see my husband once in awhile.

The quest continues.