by Will Durst
The nap hole.
Every job has one.
A place where you can go hide from everybody else.
And be alone for the shortest of whiles.
An inner sanctum when the bathroom stall just won't cut it.
When the boss is on a scalp hunt and you're exactly what he needs to hang up his daily quota pelt.
When data the size of the Manhattan phone book gets dumped on your desk at 4:59 and needs to be entered yesterday.
When the new girl calls in sick and good old reliable you is asked (told) to pull a double shift.
When the district manager screws up and blames you again.
The nap hole.
A space just big enough for you and a cup of coffee.
At Harnischfeger, it was a dirty old mattress someone had salvaged from a front lawn on big garbage night that was hidden behind the sand pit.
The best nap hole ever was the laundry room at the Milwaukee Athletic Club. A Pile of warm towels next to the comforting thump of the dryers.
At the Bright Angel Lodge it was out the kitchen door and thirty steps to a flat rock overlooking the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.
As you peruse our little nap hole here, do us a favor and go back into the archival portion of your brain (because we know you're mature enough not to need one now), remember your favorite nap hole of all time; click on the "Your Turn" section and send it to us.