Rachel Himes

I need you to fill out this document, Johnson, and I need it yesterday. No time to waste on this — in fact, even the fastest you do this won’t be fast enough. I need it on my desk yesterday.

You might be thinking I’m saying that I need this document yesterday as an idiomatic expression, Johnson. You might be thinking that I’m asking for it tomorrow, or even in a couple hours. You might be thinking that, but you’d be dead wrong. I need it yesterday.

In fact, if you’re even thinking of getting me this document any time today, including the time that has elapsed between midnight and right now, just don’t even bother. I don’t need this document today. I don’t want this document today. Today, this document is meaningless. I need this yesterday.

Yesterday and today are two totally different ballparks, as far as this document being filled out and on my desk are concerned, Johnson. The ballpark I care about is yesterday. That’s when I need this.

To be honest, Johnson, I’m not too picky about times within the yesterday range. Yesterday morning, yesterday afternoon, yesterday coffee break, even yesterday right as I’m about to go to bed. You might think you’ll be disturbing me if you get this document to me when I’m sitting down to dinner, Johnson, but if it’s yesterday’s dinner, don’t worry. Just get it to me, and get it to me yesterday.

I know that time travel isn’t in your job description, Johnson. But you don’t have to worry, because I’m not asking you to time travel. I don’t need you to put this document on my desk yesterday. All I’m asking is for you to put this document into some sort of dimension-bending time portal so that the document itself is on my desk yesterday. It shouldn’t be too difficult.

And if you can’t handle this task, Johnson, you can consider yesterday your last day at this office.