Go ahead without me, guys, I’ll catch up with you
In the sweltering heat of ancient Egypt, where pyramids were the hottest real estate and the Nile wasn’t just a river but a lifeline, there existed a rather grim job perk for the loyal servants of a pharaoh: a one-way ticket to the afterlife, right alongside their deceased king. Yes, when a pharaoh passed on to the great sand dune in the sky, his entourage was expected to tag along to serve him in death as they had in life—talk about job attachment!
Imagine the scene as our servant, let’s call him Ankh-af, overhears the royal vizier announcing the pharaoh’s untimely demise from a bad batch of figs.
Vizier: “Hear ye, hear ye! Great Pharaoh has ascended to the stars. Prepare to join him in eternal servitude!”
Ankh-af: (muttering to his fellow servants) “Well, that’s just perfect. I finally get the sphinx’s nose chiseled just right, and now this.”
As the servants gather their minimal belongings—a few linen garments and an all-purpose ankh (for death and beyond)—Ankh-af pulls aside his closest colleagues, Sneferu and Merit.
Ankh-af: “Listen, guys, I was thinking, maybe you go on without me? I’ve got this terrible camel allergy, and you know how dusty it gets in the tombs.”
Sneferu: “Oh, come on, Ankh-af. It’s not like you have a choice. It’s an honor to be buried with the king!”
Merit: “Yeah, Ankh-af, think of all the divine figs!”
Ankh-af: “Divine figs or not, I was sort of hoping to see how my new irrigation channel would turn out. Plus, I’ve got tickets to the chariot races this weekend.”
Merit and Sneferu exchange a glance, the weight of eternity pressing down on them like a poorly constructed sarcophagus.
Merit: “Well, can’t you postpone your afterlife duties? Maybe join us later?”
Ankh-af: “Exactly! You all go ahead. Get things started. Set up my cot, I’ll be right along. I just need to finish up some… earthly duties. Yeah, earthly duties!”
Sneferu: “And how do you suppose you’ll catch up to us? Last time I checked, the portal to the afterlife doesn’t do round trips.”
Ankh-af: “I’ll figure something out. Maybe hitch a ride with a passing deity or something. Osiris owes me a favor. I helped him find his keys last week.”
Sneferu chuckles, adjusting his burial shroud like it’s a three-piece suit.
Sneferu: “Alright then, Ankh-af. We’ll tell Pharaoh you’re running a bit late. But don’t take too long. You know how he hates to wait for his foot massages.”
As the procession starts, Ankh-af waves. He turns back to his irrigation project, mumbling about inventing a deity-friendly key finder as his next big break.
Ankh-af: “Dodged that arrow. Now, back to the living—where figs are just food and not a cause of death.”
As the sands of time blow over the pyramids, Ankh-af manages to stick around a little longer in the land of the living. Who knew that a well-placed allergy and some unfinished business could be a ticket out of an eternal workplace commitment?
