Enter Sandman

I remember the first time I fell asleep at work.

I was a year out of college and was working at a public affairs firm in Washington, D.C. My client -- a major drug manufacturer -- needed help getting the FDA to approve an osteoporosis drug. As the junior member of the team, I was relegated to the bullshit work. On this day, this meant reviewing hours of video of old women talking about bone density. It's as dull as it sounds.

The combination of a raging hangover and countless interviews of seniors saying "My hip"-this and "Constant pain"-that finally caught up with me. Somewhere around hour #3, I nodded off. I was probably only out for a few minutes, but when I woke up and hadn't been fired, I made a deal with God. Because he/she/Oprah made sure no one caught me snoozing, I'd never do that again. That pact worked...until last week.

It all started innocently enough. I went in my friend's office during lunch, reclined on the couch and flipped on the TV. It was a replay of the Dodger game when Manny Ramirez hit a pinch hit grand slam to win it. Maybe it was Vin Scully's velvety delivery. Perhaps it was Tryptophan from my turkey sandwich. Or more likely it was the hours of temping boredom that preceded (and would follow) lunch. But whatever it was, I fell asleep.

I have only vague recollections of what happened for the next 90 minutes. I remember around 1:55 p.m. my friend jostled me, said she was leaving and told me get back to work. I recall deciding to lay there for a couple more minutes. Then I remember nothing until I woke up and it's just shy of 3 p.m. Of course everything after that -- running back to my desk, panicking and apologizing to God -- was as clear as can be. That's an adrenaline rush for you.

So I return to my desk and expect a thrashing or a firing. But what happened? Nothing. No one noticed. My boss took a long lunch and none of my co-workers noticed (or cared?) that I was MIA.

Never have I been so glad to be an invisible cog in Hollywood.