Today I am trying to escape from the office early. I don’t really NEED to be out before 4pm but I’d like to be and ideally want to make my exit by 3.30pm. I’m taking a leaf out of CJ’s book and doing a 7 hour day, except I managed to make it in for a reasonable start to the working day and she didn’t. I have been asking for suggestions as to how to make my escape and so far have had the following ideas from people:
Doctor’s appointment
Just leave and on Monday tell them you forgot you had your watch on Greek time
Teleportation? On Monday you can say you were abducted by aliens
Your brother has had an accident at work and you are his next of kin
Cardboard cutout, with a dictaphone on the chair talking about work stuff
Try the old 'neighbor called saying your door is open' although you know no one is home
Say you have a gas leak at home and need to dash back to let the gas man in
Just go!
I’m favoring the cardboard cut out idea as it would involve me not having to speak to my boss at all and just exiting the building. Although I’m not sure about the dictaphone talking about work as that wouldn’t be believable and if it was still in my chair at 5pm he’d get suspicious. Don’t want to tempt fate with the gas leak, open door or my brother having an accident and he won’t fall for the doctor’s appointment on a Friday afternoon. That just leaves the teleportation/abduction, my watch being on Greek time and just leaving anyway.
Another one has just come in; I’m impressed at the sheer detail of the plan if nothing else:
Leave your desk looking like you are still there, usual half cup of coffee, jacket on chair, bag (transfer contents to Tesco bag first) still under desk. Leave the phone off the hook resting on notebook with words like "secret file" and "special mission" written in scribbled writing. Don't tuck chair in.
I think perhaps this has been used before many a time. It’s good but I’d like to take my bag and coat with me when I go and we have a clear desk policy so I’d only get into trouble on Monday from Moon Monkey.
I’ll let you know what happens but I think it will end with me simply getting up and leaving at 3.30pm. The likelihood of Harley actually noticing (he is also to my benefit but not his, half blind at the moment – that’s why he was in A&E on Sunday – and sporting a lovely pair of 1980’s glasses) is slim to none and the likelihood of him remembering come Monday is even less. No one else in the office gives a stuff and will probably applaud me on my way out anyway. CJ could be the only one who questions it and if she does then…..well there will be sticks involved.
As an aside I was talking to Kirstie yesterday about Saffa and her flowers and it seems I may have misunderstood Kirstie’s theory. She thinks that NONE of the flowers are coming from her wife and all from another admirer. When questioned as to why she thinks this Kirstie said it was a number of things including the fact Saffa gets so coy and quiet about them when they arrive, whereas if they were from the old ball and chain she’d be more blasé than that. I’m not so sure so some more Clueless sleuthing may have to occur.
Have a good weekend peeps.
Friday 26 February 2010
Thursday 25 February 2010
Stick, stick, give us the stick!
I think the Moody NZ guy is close to smacking CJ in the face. I’m standing buy with my video camera just in case he does so keep your eyes peeled on YouTube. You can feel the people around the office willing him on, it’s in the atmosphere, I’m sure I’ve seen some clenched fists and a raised hand once or twice out of the corner of my eye. Go on Moody, do it. Do it, do it, do it…..it’s like some faint tribal chant.
This isn’t something that’s come out of the blue, it’s been building since day one when she plonked herself down between me and Moody and he introduced himself. They actually share a lot of common traits in some respects. They both talk to themselves (I have to admit Moody’s is bordering on looking like a crazy and he also laughs at work emails), they both generally go on a lot when you ask them a question and were hoping for a nice short and succinct answer and they both have a good knowledge of what they do (although Moody trumps CJ on this due to age and experience). However, that is where the similarities end. Moody might be moody but I can forgive him for that as he’s close to retirement and has been putting up with the same old shit for years on end. He’s got a right to be grumpy and have a moan and be negative and pessimistic – hell when I reach his age I plan to do the same. CJ on the other hand is just plain fucking irritating and down right rude – give me moody any time.
They talk to each other a lot about various work things and tend to disagree on everything. CJ will always take the line that she is right all the time and has always done it better than any other way (smack her Moody, go on!) and Moody will say that it’s always done that way, you can’t change it, don’t fight the system etc. CJ will talk to Moody in an incredibly patronising manner like he’s some 18 year old intern or something and Moody will politely argue his case without having to resort to being a patronising bitch (see CJ it can be done!). He’s always polite, he’ll turn something into a joke if he sees her getting her knickers in a twist, and he lets her think she’s won a lot of the time just for a quiet life. He even lets her be rude enough to blatantly not listen to him. She’ll turn back to her computer mid conversation and start working on something and just throw in the 3 million “yeah’s” ever 5 seconds – personally I’d haul her up on this with a “are you listening to me?!” but he just carries on regardless and eventually gets the hint and stops talking.
So we have Moody having to put up with:
Patronising talk
Being told he is wrong all of the time
Her little tantrums
The words “yeah” and “darling” being used at least 400 times every minute
Rude behaviour
The gacking (he must hear it too surely?)
Having to hear how amazing and wonderful she is and how the company couldn’t survive without her
Everyone moaning at him because she’s not in AGAIN
This has been going on for almost 3 months now on a daily basis (except when she’s not here so lets call it 1 month) which doesn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But imagine that at you, 7 hours a day 5 days a week, in your face, you can’t escape.
I think Moody’s patience has finally run out.
This week she has taken to questioning him about everything and seems to be taking on the role of a second wife. She keeps pulling him up on talking to himself “Are you talking to yourself again Moody?!” in some haughty tone. Er can I point out that you too in fact talk to yourself? Pot, kettle, black? “Don’t be so negative Moody” – you try working in this industry for 40 years without a trace of cynicism luv, don’t question the man and his attitude. “Are you OK Moody?” This one has been asked on a fairly frequent basis, not sure why, maybe she can sense the violent vibes coming from his every pore and is scared for her life. She should be. His answers are getting shorter and curter and you can see the fuse fizzing closer and closer to the TNT.
I think maybe I should suggest some good come backs or questions he could ask her:
“Are you talking with your mouth full again?”
“You’ve just turned up at 11am moaning about traffic and you’re leaving at 4pm?”
“And stop sighing, no-one cares if you have lots of work to do”
I think they might work; it might lessen his need to ram a sharp stick in her eye. But then I’m 50/50 about wanting to see the sharp stick. Hell who am I kidding BRING ON THE STICK!!
P.S. Her mobile has just gone off at a ridiculously high volume with “Sweet Child of Mine” blaring across the office. Profuse apologies from her and Moody turns and says “could you turn it up, I can’t quite hear it”. Moody 1 - CJ 0.
This isn’t something that’s come out of the blue, it’s been building since day one when she plonked herself down between me and Moody and he introduced himself. They actually share a lot of common traits in some respects. They both talk to themselves (I have to admit Moody’s is bordering on looking like a crazy and he also laughs at work emails), they both generally go on a lot when you ask them a question and were hoping for a nice short and succinct answer and they both have a good knowledge of what they do (although Moody trumps CJ on this due to age and experience). However, that is where the similarities end. Moody might be moody but I can forgive him for that as he’s close to retirement and has been putting up with the same old shit for years on end. He’s got a right to be grumpy and have a moan and be negative and pessimistic – hell when I reach his age I plan to do the same. CJ on the other hand is just plain fucking irritating and down right rude – give me moody any time.
They talk to each other a lot about various work things and tend to disagree on everything. CJ will always take the line that she is right all the time and has always done it better than any other way (smack her Moody, go on!) and Moody will say that it’s always done that way, you can’t change it, don’t fight the system etc. CJ will talk to Moody in an incredibly patronising manner like he’s some 18 year old intern or something and Moody will politely argue his case without having to resort to being a patronising bitch (see CJ it can be done!). He’s always polite, he’ll turn something into a joke if he sees her getting her knickers in a twist, and he lets her think she’s won a lot of the time just for a quiet life. He even lets her be rude enough to blatantly not listen to him. She’ll turn back to her computer mid conversation and start working on something and just throw in the 3 million “yeah’s” ever 5 seconds – personally I’d haul her up on this with a “are you listening to me?!” but he just carries on regardless and eventually gets the hint and stops talking.
So we have Moody having to put up with:
Patronising talk
Being told he is wrong all of the time
Her little tantrums
The words “yeah” and “darling” being used at least 400 times every minute
Rude behaviour
The gacking (he must hear it too surely?)
Having to hear how amazing and wonderful she is and how the company couldn’t survive without her
Everyone moaning at him because she’s not in AGAIN
This has been going on for almost 3 months now on a daily basis (except when she’s not here so lets call it 1 month) which doesn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But imagine that at you, 7 hours a day 5 days a week, in your face, you can’t escape.
I think Moody’s patience has finally run out.
This week she has taken to questioning him about everything and seems to be taking on the role of a second wife. She keeps pulling him up on talking to himself “Are you talking to yourself again Moody?!” in some haughty tone. Er can I point out that you too in fact talk to yourself? Pot, kettle, black? “Don’t be so negative Moody” – you try working in this industry for 40 years without a trace of cynicism luv, don’t question the man and his attitude. “Are you OK Moody?” This one has been asked on a fairly frequent basis, not sure why, maybe she can sense the violent vibes coming from his every pore and is scared for her life. She should be. His answers are getting shorter and curter and you can see the fuse fizzing closer and closer to the TNT.
I think maybe I should suggest some good come backs or questions he could ask her:
“Are you talking with your mouth full again?”
“You’ve just turned up at 11am moaning about traffic and you’re leaving at 4pm?”
“And stop sighing, no-one cares if you have lots of work to do”
I think they might work; it might lessen his need to ram a sharp stick in her eye. But then I’m 50/50 about wanting to see the sharp stick. Hell who am I kidding BRING ON THE STICK!!
P.S. Her mobile has just gone off at a ridiculously high volume with “Sweet Child of Mine” blaring across the office. Profuse apologies from her and Moody turns and says “could you turn it up, I can’t quite hear it”. Moody 1 - CJ 0.
Tuesday 23 February 2010
Me love you long time!
CJ offered me a massage this morning.
CJ: “Nancy you’re a full time member of staff aren’t you?”
Nancy “Er yeah, last time I checked”
CJ: “What are you doing at 11.40am today for 20 minutes?”
Quick think of something, think of something….
Nancy “Er nothing”
Damn.
CJ: “Would you like a lovely wellbeing massage?”
Nancy: “Excuse me?”
CJ: “I have a massage booked at 11.40am today but I can’t make it, would you like to go instead?”
Nancy: Sounding dubious “What does it involve?”
CJ: “Well you sit on a darling bean bag and they put headphones on you and you listen to soothing music and soothing voices (when she says this bit she makes a face that looks like the little old man in The Emperor’s New Groove – “beware the gooooove!” – if you haven’t seen it look it up, class film) and someone gives you a head, shoulder and neck massage.”
Nancy: “Do I have to pay for it?”
CJ: “No, it’s free, it’s all part of the wellbeing week”
Nancy: “erm….”
Now as much as this sounds nice for some reason she has freaked me out a bit by offering it to me and now I don’t want it.
CJ: “Go on, it’ll be lovely, really nice and relaxing” (The goooove, beware the groooove!)
Nancy: “I’ll pass CJ it’s not really my thing you know”
CJ: “Oh, er ok, are you sure? It’s just that when I realised I couldn’t go I thought of you!”
Me screaming internally.
Nancy: “Yeah thanks anyway – why don’t you try Ginger? She loves that kind of thing”
Mercifully she does and Ginger accepts although after a very similar conversation where she sounded incredibly doubtful about the whole thing and emailed me straight after saying “Er what just happened there?....Massage?!”
Strange how this woman brings out the worst in me, I couldn’t have been any more uninterested or ungrateful when she offered me this perfectly reasonable free massage. What’s wrong with a free massage?! Maybe it’s because initially I thought she might be offering me one herself, maybe it’s because as soon as she says “what are you doing at 11.40am?” I get on the defensive because the thought of being stuck in a meeting room with her is unbearable? This probably just goes to prove how much she winds me up.
I stopped feeling guilty when she started gacking on her lunch and the sighing through her nose started she sounded like a horse – WTF?!
CJ: “Nancy you’re a full time member of staff aren’t you?”
Nancy “Er yeah, last time I checked”
CJ: “What are you doing at 11.40am today for 20 minutes?”
Quick think of something, think of something….
Nancy “Er nothing”
Damn.
CJ: “Would you like a lovely wellbeing massage?”
Nancy: “Excuse me?”
CJ: “I have a massage booked at 11.40am today but I can’t make it, would you like to go instead?”
Nancy: Sounding dubious “What does it involve?”
CJ: “Well you sit on a darling bean bag and they put headphones on you and you listen to soothing music and soothing voices (when she says this bit she makes a face that looks like the little old man in The Emperor’s New Groove – “beware the gooooove!” – if you haven’t seen it look it up, class film) and someone gives you a head, shoulder and neck massage.”
Nancy: “Do I have to pay for it?”
CJ: “No, it’s free, it’s all part of the wellbeing week”
Nancy: “erm….”
Now as much as this sounds nice for some reason she has freaked me out a bit by offering it to me and now I don’t want it.
CJ: “Go on, it’ll be lovely, really nice and relaxing” (The goooove, beware the groooove!)
Nancy: “I’ll pass CJ it’s not really my thing you know”
CJ: “Oh, er ok, are you sure? It’s just that when I realised I couldn’t go I thought of you!”
Me screaming internally.
Nancy: “Yeah thanks anyway – why don’t you try Ginger? She loves that kind of thing”
Mercifully she does and Ginger accepts although after a very similar conversation where she sounded incredibly doubtful about the whole thing and emailed me straight after saying “Er what just happened there?....Massage?!”
Strange how this woman brings out the worst in me, I couldn’t have been any more uninterested or ungrateful when she offered me this perfectly reasonable free massage. What’s wrong with a free massage?! Maybe it’s because initially I thought she might be offering me one herself, maybe it’s because as soon as she says “what are you doing at 11.40am?” I get on the defensive because the thought of being stuck in a meeting room with her is unbearable? This probably just goes to prove how much she winds me up.
I stopped feeling guilty when she started gacking on her lunch and the sighing through her nose started she sounded like a horse – WTF?!
Monday 22 February 2010
Cheers big ears
I am for some reason blessed with very good selective hearing and where I sit manage to over hear a lot of discussions. Some are of course very dull and work based and immediately tuned out of, some are full of juicy gossip, some are heated arguments which not only me but the rest of the office hear and some are little snippets of information.
This morning was one of the latter. As you’ll recall my gripe on Friday was about my inept supervisor (I don’t think I gave him a name but to stop me referring to him as ‘my supervisor’ throughout the blog lets call him Harley – he rides a bike) and his inability to follow simple instruction. I was hoping that this morning he would be in the office so I could go and wave several documents under his nose and demand he sign them. However, he was nowhere to be seen on my arrival and by 9am had still not shown up. A few enquiries and no one seemed to know of his whereabouts. Moon Monkey rocks up a bit later and I over hear him talking to someone about Harley. He called MM yesterday and said he was having to go into A&E and would let him know if he’d be in on Monday. That’s all that was said so that’s all I caught.
Of course this information doesn’t get passed down to us mere mortals who might like to know where our supervisor is, maybe even have some concern for him and his state of health (I genuinely do hope he’s okay, as much of a numpty as he is he’s still a nice bloke). No, no, no, we simply have to sit and wonder and create a whole plethora of possibilities.
Later still someone on reception rang asking for Harley’s mobile number which I handed over but warned them he might be ‘off sick’ today. Andre overheard this and asked if Harley was ok so I explained what I had heard MM chirping on about. CJ and the grumpy New Zealander overheard this as well and asked if I knew any more – of course not, don’t be silly that would involve MM actually speaking to me.
So this piece of information has travelled around the office and the majority now know Harley is off all day, might be in hospital or just visiting and we wait to see what develops. Enough said.
On a completely separate note Kirstie is chatting to me at my desk about her husbands work. He works in a fairly high security prison and at the weekend had saved a prisoners life when he found him trying to hang himself and cut him down. All very dramatic. Whilst we’re having this conversation CJ is chatting to Grumpy NZ about whatever it is they talk about and suddenly she turns to us and says “are you talking about Harley?” Now Kirstie is a bit flummoxed by this interruption because I don’t think she has heard about Harley’s A&E trip and even if she had this remark was sprung upon her in rather a random fashion. We both look at CJ slightly perplexed/annoyed and Kirstie says “Er, no” and stares blankly at her. Neither of us decides to offer up an alternative explanation to the conversation we are having so CJ says “oh, er sorry I was listening to 2 conversations at once there” and turns back to GNZ all embarrassed.
Er yes CJ we are talking about Harley, he tried to hang himself at the weekend and we’re just chatting about it idly over coffee here at my desk in an open office. Stupid bitch. Andre even had a giggle when this happened and piped up with “you talking about your husband Kirstie?” just to make CJ feel even more of a prick which I appreciated her for. Kirstie got back to her desk and emailed me with “I feel a bit bad about being so rude to her” so I pointed out that maybe CJ shouldn’t have been ear wigging in the first place and also not butted in on our conversation uninvited?
That shut CJ up for a short while anyway.
The other conversations or perhaps I should say ‘person’ who I keep overhearing today is FB. Thank the lord it is her last day in the office today for a while (it seems like she has been here an eternity) so she is making the most of it with an early start (12.50pm) and by talking loudly to anyone who will listen. My favourites so far have been when she was pleading with some random Scottish guy who is sat next to her today (he really sounds like Sean Connery) to check some work for her and her outbursts about her hair.
FB - “Sean would you mind checking through this document for me?”
Sean – I’m sorry FB but I’m very busy and don’t want to get pulled into that”
FB – “Oh go on it won’t take you long, please”
Sean – “No, I’ve far too much on myself”
FB “But it’s so short, please, please, please!”
Sean – “NO!”
FB “It’ll take you no time at all, pretty, pretty, pretty, please, please, please” (I’m not making this up, this is pretty much word for word)
Sean – “NO!!”
FB – “I’ll just email it to you now”
Sean – “And I will delete it”
FB – “Go on its easy all you have to do is read it through”
Sean – “And I have this little delete button which makes it easy for me not to”
This actually went on for some time more but I think when Sean reached for his 007 regulation shotgun she finally shut up. The hair outbursts have been like this:
FB – “Oh I am having such a bad hair day!!”
Cue emails between me and Kirsty along the lines of “every day is a bad hair day luv” and “I think she’s been having a bad hair life!” etc etc. I may have mentioned before that FB’s hair is like some massive awful birds nest of curly split ends and stands out all over the place.
FB – “Oh my hair is driving me mad, I am having such a bad hair day! Although maybe every day is a bad hair day”
Sean – “Well I didn’t like to say anything but…”
FB – “Oh Sean, ha ha ha ha ha!”
I don’t think he’s joking you freak.
This morning was one of the latter. As you’ll recall my gripe on Friday was about my inept supervisor (I don’t think I gave him a name but to stop me referring to him as ‘my supervisor’ throughout the blog lets call him Harley – he rides a bike) and his inability to follow simple instruction. I was hoping that this morning he would be in the office so I could go and wave several documents under his nose and demand he sign them. However, he was nowhere to be seen on my arrival and by 9am had still not shown up. A few enquiries and no one seemed to know of his whereabouts. Moon Monkey rocks up a bit later and I over hear him talking to someone about Harley. He called MM yesterday and said he was having to go into A&E and would let him know if he’d be in on Monday. That’s all that was said so that’s all I caught.
Of course this information doesn’t get passed down to us mere mortals who might like to know where our supervisor is, maybe even have some concern for him and his state of health (I genuinely do hope he’s okay, as much of a numpty as he is he’s still a nice bloke). No, no, no, we simply have to sit and wonder and create a whole plethora of possibilities.
Later still someone on reception rang asking for Harley’s mobile number which I handed over but warned them he might be ‘off sick’ today. Andre overheard this and asked if Harley was ok so I explained what I had heard MM chirping on about. CJ and the grumpy New Zealander overheard this as well and asked if I knew any more – of course not, don’t be silly that would involve MM actually speaking to me.
So this piece of information has travelled around the office and the majority now know Harley is off all day, might be in hospital or just visiting and we wait to see what develops. Enough said.
On a completely separate note Kirstie is chatting to me at my desk about her husbands work. He works in a fairly high security prison and at the weekend had saved a prisoners life when he found him trying to hang himself and cut him down. All very dramatic. Whilst we’re having this conversation CJ is chatting to Grumpy NZ about whatever it is they talk about and suddenly she turns to us and says “are you talking about Harley?” Now Kirstie is a bit flummoxed by this interruption because I don’t think she has heard about Harley’s A&E trip and even if she had this remark was sprung upon her in rather a random fashion. We both look at CJ slightly perplexed/annoyed and Kirstie says “Er, no” and stares blankly at her. Neither of us decides to offer up an alternative explanation to the conversation we are having so CJ says “oh, er sorry I was listening to 2 conversations at once there” and turns back to GNZ all embarrassed.
Er yes CJ we are talking about Harley, he tried to hang himself at the weekend and we’re just chatting about it idly over coffee here at my desk in an open office. Stupid bitch. Andre even had a giggle when this happened and piped up with “you talking about your husband Kirstie?” just to make CJ feel even more of a prick which I appreciated her for. Kirstie got back to her desk and emailed me with “I feel a bit bad about being so rude to her” so I pointed out that maybe CJ shouldn’t have been ear wigging in the first place and also not butted in on our conversation uninvited?
That shut CJ up for a short while anyway.
The other conversations or perhaps I should say ‘person’ who I keep overhearing today is FB. Thank the lord it is her last day in the office today for a while (it seems like she has been here an eternity) so she is making the most of it with an early start (12.50pm) and by talking loudly to anyone who will listen. My favourites so far have been when she was pleading with some random Scottish guy who is sat next to her today (he really sounds like Sean Connery) to check some work for her and her outbursts about her hair.
FB - “Sean would you mind checking through this document for me?”
Sean – I’m sorry FB but I’m very busy and don’t want to get pulled into that”
FB – “Oh go on it won’t take you long, please”
Sean – “No, I’ve far too much on myself”
FB “But it’s so short, please, please, please!”
Sean – “NO!”
FB “It’ll take you no time at all, pretty, pretty, pretty, please, please, please” (I’m not making this up, this is pretty much word for word)
Sean – “NO!!”
FB – “I’ll just email it to you now”
Sean – “And I will delete it”
FB – “Go on its easy all you have to do is read it through”
Sean – “And I have this little delete button which makes it easy for me not to”
This actually went on for some time more but I think when Sean reached for his 007 regulation shotgun she finally shut up. The hair outbursts have been like this:
FB – “Oh I am having such a bad hair day!!”
Cue emails between me and Kirsty along the lines of “every day is a bad hair day luv” and “I think she’s been having a bad hair life!” etc etc. I may have mentioned before that FB’s hair is like some massive awful birds nest of curly split ends and stands out all over the place.
FB – “Oh my hair is driving me mad, I am having such a bad hair day! Although maybe every day is a bad hair day”
Sean – “Well I didn’t like to say anything but…”
FB – “Oh Sean, ha ha ha ha ha!”
I don’t think he’s joking you freak.
Friday 19 February 2010
Rage
Why is it that people in positions of management, being paid I am sure ridiculously large salaries and bonuses and who can take 2 days a week “working from home” (he comes all the way from Kent, oh boo hoo) seem to be totally incompetent and lacking common sense? I mean simple things, like listening to people, reading emails, answering the phone, following simple instructions. I’m not talking anything necessitating a PHD or some training in world domination. Simple. Easy. Straight forward?
My supervisor is one such person. He loves to pass the buck, he doesn’t like to get involved, the little hassle as possible for him the better. He doesn’t like emails; he will actually take the time to respond to some emails to say “please don’t include me on these emails” even if he really should be. We’re in the 21st feckin’ century now so people tend to use email once in a while, especially when we’re all working in different countries and might need to swap a couple of bits of information. I understand the annoyance of people who sit 3 desks away sending an email instead of walking over to speak to you (I had one guy do that this morning to arrange a meeting that happened 10 minutes later, I ended up standing up and shouting across the room that I was available so please stop sending me Outlook invites) but lets be honest a lot of business nowadays rests on correspondence over emails.
He’s also good at saving everything up until about 15 minutes before he’s about to leave (and ‘work from home’ the next day) and then dumping it on your desk for you to find the next morning. Half done, hashed up, post it notes all over it and he’s not even in the office to question about it. This morning I had 3 such documents. One of which I had given him Tuesday to sign in 2 places. Both marked up. It comes back only signed in one place. I put a fat post it note on it saying PLEASE ALSO SIGN PAGE 2 and now it is sitting on my desk still not signed on page 2. Can he read? Maybe not, maybe I am being unfair in expecting him to follow straight forward requests? This is not a one off occurrence either, his stupidity and incompetence know no bounds and he’s the most pedantic man in the world. I have documents come back with commas and full stops circled but he’s missed the fact that I put in $45,500.00 rather than $4,500.00. Sometimes I do it on purpose just to see what happens.
Thank god it’s Friday and I am leaving early and not giving a shit about any of this for the next 2 days.
Happy weekends people.
My supervisor is one such person. He loves to pass the buck, he doesn’t like to get involved, the little hassle as possible for him the better. He doesn’t like emails; he will actually take the time to respond to some emails to say “please don’t include me on these emails” even if he really should be. We’re in the 21st feckin’ century now so people tend to use email once in a while, especially when we’re all working in different countries and might need to swap a couple of bits of information. I understand the annoyance of people who sit 3 desks away sending an email instead of walking over to speak to you (I had one guy do that this morning to arrange a meeting that happened 10 minutes later, I ended up standing up and shouting across the room that I was available so please stop sending me Outlook invites) but lets be honest a lot of business nowadays rests on correspondence over emails.
He’s also good at saving everything up until about 15 minutes before he’s about to leave (and ‘work from home’ the next day) and then dumping it on your desk for you to find the next morning. Half done, hashed up, post it notes all over it and he’s not even in the office to question about it. This morning I had 3 such documents. One of which I had given him Tuesday to sign in 2 places. Both marked up. It comes back only signed in one place. I put a fat post it note on it saying PLEASE ALSO SIGN PAGE 2 and now it is sitting on my desk still not signed on page 2. Can he read? Maybe not, maybe I am being unfair in expecting him to follow straight forward requests? This is not a one off occurrence either, his stupidity and incompetence know no bounds and he’s the most pedantic man in the world. I have documents come back with commas and full stops circled but he’s missed the fact that I put in $45,500.00 rather than $4,500.00. Sometimes I do it on purpose just to see what happens.
Thank god it’s Friday and I am leaving early and not giving a shit about any of this for the next 2 days.
Happy weekends people.
Thursday 18 February 2010
Interflora for the one, two, three you love
The more avid readers amongst you would have noted that yesterday there was no blog, no happenings or hilarity from the office of Nancy. Sorry about that, once again I found myself overwhelmed with work and the time for blogging evaporated and then suddenly it was 5pm. As you know I don’t do overtime and I’m not using my own free time to write this when I could be out enjoying myself and doing productive things such as drinking and watching CSI Miami episodes. This gap in service may appear from time to time and I will try to limit these absences but bear with us while we return to normality (or abnormality as the case may be).
To be honest not a lot has been going on in Hobbitville anyway, it’s been a quiet week and with illnesses and the like all the freaks and geeks have been keeping themselves to themselves. I do have a bit of gossip though which I shall furnish you with now…
Saffa has been receiving flowers this week at an alarming rate. Her desk looks as though a florist has exploded all over it. She’s also received 2 vases to put said flowers in. I have enquired about all these gifts and apparently her good wife brought her ‘flowers for a year’ for Crimbo. So every week she gets a bunch of flowers. How sweet. When we all arrived on Friday last week there was a bunch waiting for her including a vase which she got very excited about as she actually has something to put all these bunches in. The flowers were white roses, her favourite.
At lunch time another bunch of white roses arrives so we speculate that maybe because it’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday she’s got an extra bunch? Makes sense, romantic time of year, that additional gift of lurve. Kirstie being the nosy cow she is (and I love her for it or otherwise where would I get all this information?) wanders over and says “you should take these home for the weekend or they’ll be wasted sat here”. Saffa goes a bit quiet and holding the new bunch in her hand says “hmmmm, I don’t think it would be a good idea if I took these ones home”. Kirstie just raises an eyebrow and doesn’t enquire any further (damnit Kirstie enquire further!). After a brief conflab with Kirstie she assures me that by the look on Saffa’s face the 2nd bunch is not from her wife. Uh oh, is she playing away from home again? Does she not learn?!
Then today another bunch turns up also with a vase. So 2 vases sent from the wife within a week of each other? Methinks not. Time for another conflab. Suspicion arises again as her normal flower delivery happens on a Friday so if she gets a 4th bunch tomorrow we’re pretty sure she’s getting these from more than one source. I’ll keep you posted. We are also wondering if there’s any other tell tale signs that Saffa has an admirer or maybe they are not just admiring from afar? Stir it up Kirstie!
In other news FB is not in today which has made the office all the more pleasant. CJ is off sick again and has been the whole week now and Kirstie and I have calculated that since she started in December she has probably been at work for about 55% of that time. Not that I’m complaining, please do stay away with your nasty germs, but how much time can one person possibly take off before they start having a word? Obviously she doesn’t feel the need to impress by turning up for work on time/at all. This will no doubt result in more sighing when she returns as she’ll have 5 times as much work to do and catch up on. I’ll look forward to that.
To be honest not a lot has been going on in Hobbitville anyway, it’s been a quiet week and with illnesses and the like all the freaks and geeks have been keeping themselves to themselves. I do have a bit of gossip though which I shall furnish you with now…
Saffa has been receiving flowers this week at an alarming rate. Her desk looks as though a florist has exploded all over it. She’s also received 2 vases to put said flowers in. I have enquired about all these gifts and apparently her good wife brought her ‘flowers for a year’ for Crimbo. So every week she gets a bunch of flowers. How sweet. When we all arrived on Friday last week there was a bunch waiting for her including a vase which she got very excited about as she actually has something to put all these bunches in. The flowers were white roses, her favourite.
At lunch time another bunch of white roses arrives so we speculate that maybe because it’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday she’s got an extra bunch? Makes sense, romantic time of year, that additional gift of lurve. Kirstie being the nosy cow she is (and I love her for it or otherwise where would I get all this information?) wanders over and says “you should take these home for the weekend or they’ll be wasted sat here”. Saffa goes a bit quiet and holding the new bunch in her hand says “hmmmm, I don’t think it would be a good idea if I took these ones home”. Kirstie just raises an eyebrow and doesn’t enquire any further (damnit Kirstie enquire further!). After a brief conflab with Kirstie she assures me that by the look on Saffa’s face the 2nd bunch is not from her wife. Uh oh, is she playing away from home again? Does she not learn?!
Then today another bunch turns up also with a vase. So 2 vases sent from the wife within a week of each other? Methinks not. Time for another conflab. Suspicion arises again as her normal flower delivery happens on a Friday so if she gets a 4th bunch tomorrow we’re pretty sure she’s getting these from more than one source. I’ll keep you posted. We are also wondering if there’s any other tell tale signs that Saffa has an admirer or maybe they are not just admiring from afar? Stir it up Kirstie!
In other news FB is not in today which has made the office all the more pleasant. CJ is off sick again and has been the whole week now and Kirstie and I have calculated that since she started in December she has probably been at work for about 55% of that time. Not that I’m complaining, please do stay away with your nasty germs, but how much time can one person possibly take off before they start having a word? Obviously she doesn’t feel the need to impress by turning up for work on time/at all. This will no doubt result in more sighing when she returns as she’ll have 5 times as much work to do and catch up on. I’ll look forward to that.
Tuesday 16 February 2010
One look could kill….
Some a-hole has given me a butt load of work to do today and seeing as my brain isn’t used to this amount of activity between 8.30am and 5pm Monday to Friday I’m finding it hard to multi task. The danger of not using the little grey cells for over a year to do anything more challenging than typing up a word document or photocopying means that when you are suddenly called upon to do something a little more taxing they have to start firing up again and this can take some time. A defensive mechanism that my noodle seems to have taken on is to procrastinate to the most extreme levels possible and therefore make the task even more arduous and prolonged. Today has been no exception.
However now we are fast approaching 5pm and I’ll be buggered if I’m going to be here any longer than necessary - “over time” is not a word in my vocabulary – so today’s blog is short and sweet. My sincere apologies and I promise to make up for it later in the week with some big, juicy (careful) laugh a minute shocker of a blog. If my brain has recovered by then that is.
Today we have cake in the office, cake and sweets and chocolate and pastries. It’s one of the old codger’s birthdays and he has been so kind to furnish us with nummies to eat. The usual h-i-larious email went round about it being his 36th birthday and an equally h-i-larious one came back from some clever dick asking if he’d got the numbers the wrong way round and we were all asked to help ourselves to cake. Don’t mind if I do, thanks very much and happy birthday me old mukka.
FB (yes she’s still here much to our annoyance and coughing and spluttering all over the place until Monday apparently – NO!!) had somehow managed to make it through the doors at 10.10am, which threw me and Gunner a bit as we thought it must be the afternoon. She was therefore here for the unveiling of the cakes and immediately starts harping on at the top of her whining, shrill French voice (you need to adopt an ‘Allo ‘Allo accent when you read this – I’m not being a xenophobe she does actually talk like that) “Oh my god! What is all this poison?!” Unfortunately she is too loud to ignore or block out so whoever is nearest to her gives the correct response of “what?!” to which she starts going on about the cakes.
“Oh my god, what is all this poison? Who brought in all this poison? Look at all this poison!”
I tell you it’s like Alice Cooper’s in the building.
The old codger pipes up with “I did, it’s my birthday” and then is playfully berated for forcing all of this ‘poison’ upon FB.
Immediately I receive 2 emails – one from Gunner and one from Ginger (I’m sure Kirstie would have joined in but she’s off today):
From: Gunner
Sent: 16 February 2010 10:46
To: Nancy Clueless
Subject: Aaargh
WELL DON’T FEKIN EAT IT THEN YOU HIDEOUS TROUT!
From: Ginger
Sent: 16 February 2010 10:45
To: Nancy Clueless
Subject: WTF
What is all this poison?! WTF? Shut up you skinny bint and have a doughnut!
I respond to Gunner:
From: Nancy Clueless
Sent: 16 February 2010 10:49
To: Gunner
Subject: RE: Aaargh
You have to translate:
“What is all this poison?!” = “I am fishing for people to say to me ‘but FB you don’t need to worry about your weight!’”
Which no one will do because she is a hideous trout.
Yes that’s right FB is a skinny bint fishing for compliments. She does it all the time when cakes and sweets are in the office and rarely do people rise to it any more. If Ladybum was still about he might come up with something to get her affections for a few minutes but now he’s gone she’s got no chance.
So as this is going on I am tempted to go up and make some massive show of having a Danish pastry “Oh thanks so much for these delicious looking cakes!! Happy Birthday! I think I may have 2 because I really don’t have to worry about my weight and they are so yummy!” But FB beats me to it and follows Saffa up to the table to get a fucking cake! “Oh look at what you are making me do!” Yeah I can see that gun he’s holding to your head luv. 5 minutes later and she’s back up for a 2nd one.
From: Nancy Clueless
Sent: 16 February 2010 11:07
To: Ginger
Subject: RE: WTF
She’ll be dead with all that poison soon.
Well we can but wish. She’s just been up for a third cake. Even pig faced me has only had the Danish and a Forrero Rocher. Oh yes and as I type she’s going for a 4th. There is much show over this one “How many have you had Saffa? Oh la la, this is my 4th!” NO ONE CARES YOU GREEDY FUCK WIT JUST EAT IT AND SHUT THE HELL UP! I might just move the tray of chocolates to her desk and save her the walk and opportunity to go on about every thing she sticks in her gob. Funny she’s not so vocal about the other things she likes to put in her mouth in this office.
Saucer of milk table 3!
However now we are fast approaching 5pm and I’ll be buggered if I’m going to be here any longer than necessary - “over time” is not a word in my vocabulary – so today’s blog is short and sweet. My sincere apologies and I promise to make up for it later in the week with some big, juicy (careful) laugh a minute shocker of a blog. If my brain has recovered by then that is.
Today we have cake in the office, cake and sweets and chocolate and pastries. It’s one of the old codger’s birthdays and he has been so kind to furnish us with nummies to eat. The usual h-i-larious email went round about it being his 36th birthday and an equally h-i-larious one came back from some clever dick asking if he’d got the numbers the wrong way round and we were all asked to help ourselves to cake. Don’t mind if I do, thanks very much and happy birthday me old mukka.
FB (yes she’s still here much to our annoyance and coughing and spluttering all over the place until Monday apparently – NO!!) had somehow managed to make it through the doors at 10.10am, which threw me and Gunner a bit as we thought it must be the afternoon. She was therefore here for the unveiling of the cakes and immediately starts harping on at the top of her whining, shrill French voice (you need to adopt an ‘Allo ‘Allo accent when you read this – I’m not being a xenophobe she does actually talk like that) “Oh my god! What is all this poison?!” Unfortunately she is too loud to ignore or block out so whoever is nearest to her gives the correct response of “what?!” to which she starts going on about the cakes.
“Oh my god, what is all this poison? Who brought in all this poison? Look at all this poison!”
I tell you it’s like Alice Cooper’s in the building.
The old codger pipes up with “I did, it’s my birthday” and then is playfully berated for forcing all of this ‘poison’ upon FB.
Immediately I receive 2 emails – one from Gunner and one from Ginger (I’m sure Kirstie would have joined in but she’s off today):
From: Gunner
Sent: 16 February 2010 10:46
To: Nancy Clueless
Subject: Aaargh
WELL DON’T FEKIN EAT IT THEN YOU HIDEOUS TROUT!
From: Ginger
Sent: 16 February 2010 10:45
To: Nancy Clueless
Subject: WTF
What is all this poison?! WTF? Shut up you skinny bint and have a doughnut!
I respond to Gunner:
From: Nancy Clueless
Sent: 16 February 2010 10:49
To: Gunner
Subject: RE: Aaargh
You have to translate:
“What is all this poison?!” = “I am fishing for people to say to me ‘but FB you don’t need to worry about your weight!’”
Which no one will do because she is a hideous trout.
Yes that’s right FB is a skinny bint fishing for compliments. She does it all the time when cakes and sweets are in the office and rarely do people rise to it any more. If Ladybum was still about he might come up with something to get her affections for a few minutes but now he’s gone she’s got no chance.
So as this is going on I am tempted to go up and make some massive show of having a Danish pastry “Oh thanks so much for these delicious looking cakes!! Happy Birthday! I think I may have 2 because I really don’t have to worry about my weight and they are so yummy!” But FB beats me to it and follows Saffa up to the table to get a fucking cake! “Oh look at what you are making me do!” Yeah I can see that gun he’s holding to your head luv. 5 minutes later and she’s back up for a 2nd one.
From: Nancy Clueless
Sent: 16 February 2010 11:07
To: Ginger
Subject: RE: WTF
She’ll be dead with all that poison soon.
Well we can but wish. She’s just been up for a third cake. Even pig faced me has only had the Danish and a Forrero Rocher. Oh yes and as I type she’s going for a 4th. There is much show over this one “How many have you had Saffa? Oh la la, this is my 4th!” NO ONE CARES YOU GREEDY FUCK WIT JUST EAT IT AND SHUT THE HELL UP! I might just move the tray of chocolates to her desk and save her the walk and opportunity to go on about every thing she sticks in her gob. Funny she’s not so vocal about the other things she likes to put in her mouth in this office.
Saucer of milk table 3!
Monday 15 February 2010
Huddled round a burning hobbit
Today the office is cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. I am wearing 2 jumpers, a scarf, a pair of gloves and 2 pairs of socks. It’s very hard to type in gloves but I’m not taking them off in case I get frostbite. OK, so maybe a slight over exaggeration but it is feckin’ cold. We’ve been told that it’s because the building can take up to 4 hours to warm up after a weekend. So why not turn it on 4 hours before everyone’s due in? This is the 21st Century I’m sure that some fandangled system on a timer could be set up. Common sense no?
Different people have used different methods to combat this big chill. People such as Gunner and the moody NZ guy have just left their jackets on, perhaps also as an indication that they are ready to go home at any given opportunity. Ginger has phoned in sick again so she’ll be tucked up at home in the warm. CJ has been talking so much on the phone and huffing and puffing that she’s managed to create enough warm air to heat her area anyway and her stomping to and from the kitchen with her handbag must bring on a sweat too.
Andre has donned her enormous cardigan that she keeps in one of the cupboards here which looks like it took several hundred people at Laura Ashley to put together from the wool of 12 mountain sheep. Just to be extra sure she has also put her cape back on. The big velvet black one with a hood that may have at one time belonged to Robin Hood (actually more likely to be Little John) and as she walks around the office billows behind her in a dramatic fashion. Andre doesn’t deal with the cold very well which is surprising for someone of her size and considering how very English she is. I would have thought she had cherished these traditional winters and harped on about “the winter of ’62 when the Thames froze over and I had to defrost my dog’s paws from the kitchen floor!” Instead she wraps herself up in a hundred layers of clothing (both pre and post 19 century) and makes multiple complaints to the service desk about the temperature.
As most people who work in big offices know, air conditioning and heating is a law unto itself and the people who control it are also the people who used to control the heating (or lack of it) at school. Go back to school in September and they’d refuse to turn the heating on until Christmas so you’d all sit shivering round a Bunsen burner trying to get the feeling back in your fingertips. Come the summer time they’d refuse to turn it off and you’d fight for the seat next to the window in the French classroom whilst your thighs stuck to the plastic chairs. Despite knowing and experiencing all of this and the various random explanations from the building services people Andre is determined become the one woman fight against the system. She’s tightened up the air con vents in the floor or put bins over the ones she can’t get out so we’re all constantly banging into them. She walks around putting her hands over the heating vents to make sure they’re working and tutting away. She even forced them to buy her a little mini fan heater for under her desk! The woman is obsessed. More fool you if you enquire about the temperature in our building when she’s about
FB has come in at the ridiculously early time of 13.50 today (she must have got up early) and is saying she has ‘the flu’. No luv you’ve got a cold, if you had the flu you wouldn’t have ‘struggled in’ as you say, you’d be bedridden and possibly in hospital. Take a Lemsip and shut the fuck up will you?
Oh great CJ has hiccups. So she’s gaking and hiccupping while eating that apple. I’d tell her to eat a banana as that always helps hiccups for me but I couldn’t bear the noises she’d make – “gak, hic, gak, hic!” Charming.
Different people have used different methods to combat this big chill. People such as Gunner and the moody NZ guy have just left their jackets on, perhaps also as an indication that they are ready to go home at any given opportunity. Ginger has phoned in sick again so she’ll be tucked up at home in the warm. CJ has been talking so much on the phone and huffing and puffing that she’s managed to create enough warm air to heat her area anyway and her stomping to and from the kitchen with her handbag must bring on a sweat too.
Andre has donned her enormous cardigan that she keeps in one of the cupboards here which looks like it took several hundred people at Laura Ashley to put together from the wool of 12 mountain sheep. Just to be extra sure she has also put her cape back on. The big velvet black one with a hood that may have at one time belonged to Robin Hood (actually more likely to be Little John) and as she walks around the office billows behind her in a dramatic fashion. Andre doesn’t deal with the cold very well which is surprising for someone of her size and considering how very English she is. I would have thought she had cherished these traditional winters and harped on about “the winter of ’62 when the Thames froze over and I had to defrost my dog’s paws from the kitchen floor!” Instead she wraps herself up in a hundred layers of clothing (both pre and post 19 century) and makes multiple complaints to the service desk about the temperature.
As most people who work in big offices know, air conditioning and heating is a law unto itself and the people who control it are also the people who used to control the heating (or lack of it) at school. Go back to school in September and they’d refuse to turn the heating on until Christmas so you’d all sit shivering round a Bunsen burner trying to get the feeling back in your fingertips. Come the summer time they’d refuse to turn it off and you’d fight for the seat next to the window in the French classroom whilst your thighs stuck to the plastic chairs. Despite knowing and experiencing all of this and the various random explanations from the building services people Andre is determined become the one woman fight against the system. She’s tightened up the air con vents in the floor or put bins over the ones she can’t get out so we’re all constantly banging into them. She walks around putting her hands over the heating vents to make sure they’re working and tutting away. She even forced them to buy her a little mini fan heater for under her desk! The woman is obsessed. More fool you if you enquire about the temperature in our building when she’s about
FB has come in at the ridiculously early time of 13.50 today (she must have got up early) and is saying she has ‘the flu’. No luv you’ve got a cold, if you had the flu you wouldn’t have ‘struggled in’ as you say, you’d be bedridden and possibly in hospital. Take a Lemsip and shut the fuck up will you?
Oh great CJ has hiccups. So she’s gaking and hiccupping while eating that apple. I’d tell her to eat a banana as that always helps hiccups for me but I couldn’t bear the noises she’d make – “gak, hic, gak, hic!” Charming.
Friday 12 February 2010
FB part 2
OK so you may have to bear with me today as I’ve just got back from lunch (it’s Friday remember?) where I had to neck a pint of cider because I was lagging and everyone wanted to get back. So the typing skills are not at their sharpest today. Ladybum’s last day today (officially, no more extra weeks) and yesterday he was promising to buy everyone lunch but by 12.45pm today he hadn’t made any movements and we were getting hungry and itching for a drink so we upped and went shouting things like “SHALL WE GO TO THE PUB THEN?” as we walked – no effect so we had a drink on his behalf. Tight arse. Actually probably wrong phrase to use seeing that as his arse is anything butt (that’s a deliberate mistake by the way…)
Anyway I’m rambling. I was going to tell you all about FB and Mr Breakdown’s demise and the gossip and scandal that went on behind these walls not so long ago. You’ve got the background – FB’s a bitch whore from hell, Mr B’s a weak willed married man on the verge of a mental collapse. He is under her charm and willing to do her bidding within the company much to the amusement and then fury of her colleagues.
As I mentioned before FB managed to get 4, no 5 people sacked/to leave last year. The first was a ‘redundancy’ which was 2 people to start but Gunner managed to hang on in there. Then the next 3 were the aftermath of the climax of lunacy that surrounded these love birds. The latter is a tale of madness and disbelief and I tell no lies in this blog (where would be the fun in that? The truth is always far more interesting) so the following is FACT.
Last summer I was still a wee young temp and after my sidekick jumped ship to go travelling (she was a whipper snapper, 18 years old) I gained another partner in crime in the form of an older NZ lady called Cathy (not really, you know how this works by now). Lovely lady, hysterically funny, always up for a laugh and a chat and a gossip and looking to enjoy the good things in life. I liked her. She sat where CJ sits now and didn’t irritate me in the least – ah how I long for the olden days.
So Cathy was here a good few months before she encountered FB’s wrath. I was actually off work the day it happened and so came back in the following week and she filled me in. At the time rumours were rife about Mr B and FB and gossip spread like wild fire and most recently, just after Cathy was employed SNB had made a hasty exit from the company. I came in one morning and Gunner dragged me into a meeting room to tell me:
“SNB’s been sacked”
“What?!”
“Yeah they had a meeting with her yesterday afternoon and told her to go, by the time she had got back to her desk they’d shut down her computer and told her to leave the building”
Ah the joys of corporate working – fuck you very much and goodbye.
It was no coincidence that a few days previously SNB had put in a formal compliant to Mr B about FB. Her time keeping was shit (worse than mine in fact), she’d create her own working hours and so many people had complained about her SNB felt something had to be done. Error. Hello P45 and swift booting from the building. We were all shocked, we all liked her as scary as she was and she was good at her job, seemed like a daft move on the companies part.
So a couple of months down the line and the loathing and hatred for FB has grown and grown and the gossip as well. So this particular Friday morning poor Cathy is lured by FB into a meeting room on the premise that she wants to talk to her about some work. No, no, no. Never fall for that one. And if you do make sure you’re wired and have a sock with a snooker ball in it in your hand. FB proceeds to accuse Cathy of spreading rumours about her and Mr B. Cathy very wisely denies all knowledge and also very truthfully states it wasn’t her who started any rumours. FB demands to know what she has heard etc etc. Eventually Cathy says she has had enough of this unprofessional behaviour and goes to leave the room. FB physically bars the door and tries to push Cathy back and Cathy barges her way past. Told you – GBH.
Cathy’s thinking on her feet now so she tells Gunner all about it and he says to speak to our supervisor when he’s back in on Monday. She tells me all this Monday morning and then we watch FB frogmarch the supervisor into a meeting room. Cathy does the same afterwards and is told that he will have to speak to Mr B about this. Fuck. No chance then.
What followed was a meeting between the 4 of them where these 2 managers allowed FB to start shouting at Cathy again and sling accusations at her and eventually Cathy got up again and left the room. Whilst this was happening I was leaving early for the day and as I was making a swift exit Kirstie says to me “are you not going to this 4pm meeting?” what 4pm meeting? Mr B had emailed round (funnily enough excluding me) telling everyone to attend a team meeting at 4pm. So as Cathy stormed out Mr B caught her and said “we’re having a team meeting now and you have to attend”.
Guess what the meeting was about? That’s right Mr B sat back and let FB have full reign in front of the entire department saying how things had been made up about her and people were spreading lies. If it wasn’t bad enough she then named names and physically pointed out Cathy AND another member of staff who wasn’t even aware he was involved in all of this! THEN she went round the room asking people to comment. Gunner said people’s mouths were literally on the floor and they walked out shaking their heads and commenting on Mr B’s state of mind. I’m sorry I missed it, I would have been happy to give feedback on what a bare faced liar FB is and how I would be going to HR first thing the next day.
Obviously Cathy was rather shaken up by all of this and worried on how it would affect her. We urged her to go to HR to at least make an informal complaint which she did. HR were gobsmacked and urged her to make a formal complaint but this would involve interviewing people and would ‘not be a comfortable exercise’ so being a lady who was moving back to NZ and had seen enough workplaces to know when to walk out did just that. It was a shame as I think we could have taken FB to the cleaners but I can also understand the stress she was under. The guy FB accused went a few months later – a parting gesture on Mr B’s side. Think he was glad to get out of here. Happy times.
Once HR had got wind of all this though and so that was the beginning of the end for Mr B. Sick days turned into sick weeks and eventually he was signed off for stress, never to return. Whilst FB got hers a little while later with the move abroad and halving of the salary BUT SHE’S STILL HERE! Seems that it’s not experience and knowledge and a go getting survival technique that helps you get by in this business, its blowjobs.
SNB is now working happily for another company for more money in Italy and suing the company for wrong dismissal. The other accused member of staff took off 2 months to holiday in France and is comfortably employed elsewhere. The redundancy lady has had a baby and Cathy is now running a tour bus company in NZ with her hubby and enjoying the sunny views from her balcony. In the days before she moved back to NZ and was doing some more temping she managed to end up working with Mr B’s wife’s best friend – but that’s another story.
Anyway I’m rambling. I was going to tell you all about FB and Mr Breakdown’s demise and the gossip and scandal that went on behind these walls not so long ago. You’ve got the background – FB’s a bitch whore from hell, Mr B’s a weak willed married man on the verge of a mental collapse. He is under her charm and willing to do her bidding within the company much to the amusement and then fury of her colleagues.
As I mentioned before FB managed to get 4, no 5 people sacked/to leave last year. The first was a ‘redundancy’ which was 2 people to start but Gunner managed to hang on in there. Then the next 3 were the aftermath of the climax of lunacy that surrounded these love birds. The latter is a tale of madness and disbelief and I tell no lies in this blog (where would be the fun in that? The truth is always far more interesting) so the following is FACT.
Last summer I was still a wee young temp and after my sidekick jumped ship to go travelling (she was a whipper snapper, 18 years old) I gained another partner in crime in the form of an older NZ lady called Cathy (not really, you know how this works by now). Lovely lady, hysterically funny, always up for a laugh and a chat and a gossip and looking to enjoy the good things in life. I liked her. She sat where CJ sits now and didn’t irritate me in the least – ah how I long for the olden days.
So Cathy was here a good few months before she encountered FB’s wrath. I was actually off work the day it happened and so came back in the following week and she filled me in. At the time rumours were rife about Mr B and FB and gossip spread like wild fire and most recently, just after Cathy was employed SNB had made a hasty exit from the company. I came in one morning and Gunner dragged me into a meeting room to tell me:
“SNB’s been sacked”
“What?!”
“Yeah they had a meeting with her yesterday afternoon and told her to go, by the time she had got back to her desk they’d shut down her computer and told her to leave the building”
Ah the joys of corporate working – fuck you very much and goodbye.
It was no coincidence that a few days previously SNB had put in a formal compliant to Mr B about FB. Her time keeping was shit (worse than mine in fact), she’d create her own working hours and so many people had complained about her SNB felt something had to be done. Error. Hello P45 and swift booting from the building. We were all shocked, we all liked her as scary as she was and she was good at her job, seemed like a daft move on the companies part.
So a couple of months down the line and the loathing and hatred for FB has grown and grown and the gossip as well. So this particular Friday morning poor Cathy is lured by FB into a meeting room on the premise that she wants to talk to her about some work. No, no, no. Never fall for that one. And if you do make sure you’re wired and have a sock with a snooker ball in it in your hand. FB proceeds to accuse Cathy of spreading rumours about her and Mr B. Cathy very wisely denies all knowledge and also very truthfully states it wasn’t her who started any rumours. FB demands to know what she has heard etc etc. Eventually Cathy says she has had enough of this unprofessional behaviour and goes to leave the room. FB physically bars the door and tries to push Cathy back and Cathy barges her way past. Told you – GBH.
Cathy’s thinking on her feet now so she tells Gunner all about it and he says to speak to our supervisor when he’s back in on Monday. She tells me all this Monday morning and then we watch FB frogmarch the supervisor into a meeting room. Cathy does the same afterwards and is told that he will have to speak to Mr B about this. Fuck. No chance then.
What followed was a meeting between the 4 of them where these 2 managers allowed FB to start shouting at Cathy again and sling accusations at her and eventually Cathy got up again and left the room. Whilst this was happening I was leaving early for the day and as I was making a swift exit Kirstie says to me “are you not going to this 4pm meeting?” what 4pm meeting? Mr B had emailed round (funnily enough excluding me) telling everyone to attend a team meeting at 4pm. So as Cathy stormed out Mr B caught her and said “we’re having a team meeting now and you have to attend”.
Guess what the meeting was about? That’s right Mr B sat back and let FB have full reign in front of the entire department saying how things had been made up about her and people were spreading lies. If it wasn’t bad enough she then named names and physically pointed out Cathy AND another member of staff who wasn’t even aware he was involved in all of this! THEN she went round the room asking people to comment. Gunner said people’s mouths were literally on the floor and they walked out shaking their heads and commenting on Mr B’s state of mind. I’m sorry I missed it, I would have been happy to give feedback on what a bare faced liar FB is and how I would be going to HR first thing the next day.
Obviously Cathy was rather shaken up by all of this and worried on how it would affect her. We urged her to go to HR to at least make an informal complaint which she did. HR were gobsmacked and urged her to make a formal complaint but this would involve interviewing people and would ‘not be a comfortable exercise’ so being a lady who was moving back to NZ and had seen enough workplaces to know when to walk out did just that. It was a shame as I think we could have taken FB to the cleaners but I can also understand the stress she was under. The guy FB accused went a few months later – a parting gesture on Mr B’s side. Think he was glad to get out of here. Happy times.
Once HR had got wind of all this though and so that was the beginning of the end for Mr B. Sick days turned into sick weeks and eventually he was signed off for stress, never to return. Whilst FB got hers a little while later with the move abroad and halving of the salary BUT SHE’S STILL HERE! Seems that it’s not experience and knowledge and a go getting survival technique that helps you get by in this business, its blowjobs.
SNB is now working happily for another company for more money in Italy and suing the company for wrong dismissal. The other accused member of staff took off 2 months to holiday in France and is comfortably employed elsewhere. The redundancy lady has had a baby and Cathy is now running a tour bus company in NZ with her hubby and enjoying the sunny views from her balcony. In the days before she moved back to NZ and was doing some more temping she managed to end up working with Mr B’s wife’s best friend – but that’s another story.
Thursday 11 February 2010
What’s that smell?
We’ve got a bad penny in the office, she keeps turning up, and always just as you think you’ve got rid of her for good. She already has a nick name so I don’t even have to make one up, it’s FB which was originally short for French Bint and now Fucking Bitch. She’s well liked by everyone as you’ll have guessed. As far as I can tell the only person who actually likes her or at least will talk to her is Ladybum and that’s probably only so he can have a good hug and a perv when she comes back into the office.
FB was here when I arrived on my temping contract and I had little to do with her until she was shipped off to another office abroad for a couple of months. She returned and it soon became apparent from all of the comments flying about that she had managed to piss a lot of people off in the company. FB is about 5’ 3’’ has masses of uncontrollable wavy hair that looks like a forest of split ends and dresses like a child, I reckon she is in her very early 30’s. She has a penchant for patterned tights, thick soled trainers circa 1996 and dresses with t-shirts underneath. She looks weird.
Employed by the ex manager (Mr Breakdown) in hindsight we see probably not for her work based skills. A couple of people have said how after he interviewed her he wouldn’t stop going on about how amazing she was for weeks – clearly besotted. After a small business trip away together she started boffing him. Married with children is he but this stopped neither of them and soon it became quite evident there was something going on. Plus he confided in SNB so soon it was on the proverbial grapevine.
This place is an utter hive of gossip and so any news like this is devoured and brought up at any available opportunity, usually with new instalments and embezzlements. It’s Friday pub lunch chat for sure. This gossip was to eventually be the beginning of the end for Mr Breakdown but more of that another time.
Because FB had Mr Breakdown with his nuts in her hand both metaphorically and physically she had quite a hold over him (and probably still does, I don’t think it’s any coincidence she is back in the UK around Valentines weekend) and so got away with shed loads. Shat at her job she tends to do her own filing, documents, anything the opposite to how it should be done. She’s always getting things wrong, rubbing people up the wrong way and demanding the impossible. However if you were to dare make a complaint or defy her demands then it is basically the end of the line. Christmas before last ‘redundancies’ started happening in the department with several people who had got on her bad side and since I started 4 people have been sacked or left because of her. 4 people?! She doesn’t have a particularly important or high up job and we also recently discovered her salary was almost twice as much as it should be for some one her age with her experience.
As well as being an uber bitch and spoilt child she has an incredibly irritating manner. She actually says things like “ooh la la!” (no I’m not taking the piss) very loudly in the office and stretches and yawns nosily – “oh I am so tired…”. Its so people like Ladybum ask what’s wrong and to draw attention to herself. It makes me want to walk over and shove a stapler down her throat.
Since the fall of Mr Breakdown she has lost a lot of her slutty power. Moon Monkey has no interest in her or her blow jobs and has little time for her whining (although she’s still trying, as I type she is knelt at his desk talking to him and giving him the eye no doubt – Careful Moon Monkey she’ll turn you to stone!!!) She should have gone the same way as Mr B but all those complaints never got logged so instead they’ve halved her salary and sent her off to another country, far far away to work. HA HA! She wasn’t happy; we could hear across the office from the meeting room she wasn’t happy. I’m surprised she didn’t get violent; I think there’s a charge of GBH in there just waiting to happen if it hasn’t already.
If you’re interested I’ll tell you the story of how it all came to a head (careful…) and Mr Breakdown had his breakdown and FB disappeared from the English shores on a permanent office move. That sounds like Friday writing to me though so until tomorrow.
FB was here when I arrived on my temping contract and I had little to do with her until she was shipped off to another office abroad for a couple of months. She returned and it soon became apparent from all of the comments flying about that she had managed to piss a lot of people off in the company. FB is about 5’ 3’’ has masses of uncontrollable wavy hair that looks like a forest of split ends and dresses like a child, I reckon she is in her very early 30’s. She has a penchant for patterned tights, thick soled trainers circa 1996 and dresses with t-shirts underneath. She looks weird.
Employed by the ex manager (Mr Breakdown) in hindsight we see probably not for her work based skills. A couple of people have said how after he interviewed her he wouldn’t stop going on about how amazing she was for weeks – clearly besotted. After a small business trip away together she started boffing him. Married with children is he but this stopped neither of them and soon it became quite evident there was something going on. Plus he confided in SNB so soon it was on the proverbial grapevine.
This place is an utter hive of gossip and so any news like this is devoured and brought up at any available opportunity, usually with new instalments and embezzlements. It’s Friday pub lunch chat for sure. This gossip was to eventually be the beginning of the end for Mr Breakdown but more of that another time.
Because FB had Mr Breakdown with his nuts in her hand both metaphorically and physically she had quite a hold over him (and probably still does, I don’t think it’s any coincidence she is back in the UK around Valentines weekend) and so got away with shed loads. Shat at her job she tends to do her own filing, documents, anything the opposite to how it should be done. She’s always getting things wrong, rubbing people up the wrong way and demanding the impossible. However if you were to dare make a complaint or defy her demands then it is basically the end of the line. Christmas before last ‘redundancies’ started happening in the department with several people who had got on her bad side and since I started 4 people have been sacked or left because of her. 4 people?! She doesn’t have a particularly important or high up job and we also recently discovered her salary was almost twice as much as it should be for some one her age with her experience.
As well as being an uber bitch and spoilt child she has an incredibly irritating manner. She actually says things like “ooh la la!” (no I’m not taking the piss) very loudly in the office and stretches and yawns nosily – “oh I am so tired…”. Its so people like Ladybum ask what’s wrong and to draw attention to herself. It makes me want to walk over and shove a stapler down her throat.
Since the fall of Mr Breakdown she has lost a lot of her slutty power. Moon Monkey has no interest in her or her blow jobs and has little time for her whining (although she’s still trying, as I type she is knelt at his desk talking to him and giving him the eye no doubt – Careful Moon Monkey she’ll turn you to stone!!!) She should have gone the same way as Mr B but all those complaints never got logged so instead they’ve halved her salary and sent her off to another country, far far away to work. HA HA! She wasn’t happy; we could hear across the office from the meeting room she wasn’t happy. I’m surprised she didn’t get violent; I think there’s a charge of GBH in there just waiting to happen if it hasn’t already.
If you’re interested I’ll tell you the story of how it all came to a head (careful…) and Mr Breakdown had his breakdown and FB disappeared from the English shores on a permanent office move. That sounds like Friday writing to me though so until tomorrow.
Wednesday 10 February 2010
Whine flu
There’s a freak disease going round the office, both Saffa and CJ are off sick at the moment and Ladybum’s been hacking more than usual. Yesterday I really thought he was close to death, there was wheezing and coughing and fleming and god knows what coming from his side of the desk partition. Then it all went quiet and I was considering (only considering mind) leaping into First Aider action when the familiar laboured breathing started up again and normality was resumed.
I guess illness is inevitable in a building encased in sealed windows and with air conditioning. All those freak germs circulating around the place, landing on your coffee mug and lunch. Plus when they use the photocopier before you or hand you a document they’re transferring disease like those irresponsible people on those Dettox adverts, leaving green finger prints all over the place (what is up with those adverts anyway? I mean jesus, if you can’t sneeze in your own home without your mother gassing you in a bleach spray then there’s something wrong with the world).
I have been protecting myself against the onslaught of infection by taking my vitamin C like my mother always nagged me to, drinking plenty of water, eating fruit and trying to spend as little time as possible around these people. Unfortunately the latter is a little harder to achieve as my job tends to have me tied to my desk with minimal movement. On very bad days I like to hide myself in the stacks and pretend to be filing so there is always that solitude if I so need it. I am thinking about creating some kind of anti-freak deterrent that could be assembled around me. Perhaps an enormous bubble that would hold me, my chair, computer and desk? Or some kind of fort to build up around my work area (Andre could help me put it together and we could have battlements and flags and a moat)? If I wanted to go for simpler and less effort I could always just have a sign on my desk saying FUCK OFF FREAKS? That could work. I could even take a leaf out of the Nazi Dettox Mum’s book and create an anti-freak spray that I could carry around on a utility belt, along with my face mask (to stop spraying bits of banana), i-pod, smelling salts and gun (you never know).
The 2 days of no CJ have been blissfully quiet and calm though. Everyone who sits in her immediate vicinity has welcomed the break and long may it continue. If we’re lucky she’ll get snowed in at the end of the week and we’ll have another couple of days without her. I know this isn’t going to do me any good though, I’ll get used to the quiet and when she gets back it’ll be 10 times worse and I have no doubt she will be whinging on about how ill she was, as though no other person on the planet had been sick before. Still, until then I will continue to enjoy the distinct absence of gacking and sighing.
Sigh. Oh christ, is that a symptom?!
I guess illness is inevitable in a building encased in sealed windows and with air conditioning. All those freak germs circulating around the place, landing on your coffee mug and lunch. Plus when they use the photocopier before you or hand you a document they’re transferring disease like those irresponsible people on those Dettox adverts, leaving green finger prints all over the place (what is up with those adverts anyway? I mean jesus, if you can’t sneeze in your own home without your mother gassing you in a bleach spray then there’s something wrong with the world).
I have been protecting myself against the onslaught of infection by taking my vitamin C like my mother always nagged me to, drinking plenty of water, eating fruit and trying to spend as little time as possible around these people. Unfortunately the latter is a little harder to achieve as my job tends to have me tied to my desk with minimal movement. On very bad days I like to hide myself in the stacks and pretend to be filing so there is always that solitude if I so need it. I am thinking about creating some kind of anti-freak deterrent that could be assembled around me. Perhaps an enormous bubble that would hold me, my chair, computer and desk? Or some kind of fort to build up around my work area (Andre could help me put it together and we could have battlements and flags and a moat)? If I wanted to go for simpler and less effort I could always just have a sign on my desk saying FUCK OFF FREAKS? That could work. I could even take a leaf out of the Nazi Dettox Mum’s book and create an anti-freak spray that I could carry around on a utility belt, along with my face mask (to stop spraying bits of banana), i-pod, smelling salts and gun (you never know).
The 2 days of no CJ have been blissfully quiet and calm though. Everyone who sits in her immediate vicinity has welcomed the break and long may it continue. If we’re lucky she’ll get snowed in at the end of the week and we’ll have another couple of days without her. I know this isn’t going to do me any good though, I’ll get used to the quiet and when she gets back it’ll be 10 times worse and I have no doubt she will be whinging on about how ill she was, as though no other person on the planet had been sick before. Still, until then I will continue to enjoy the distinct absence of gacking and sighing.
Sigh. Oh christ, is that a symptom?!
Tuesday 9 February 2010
Normals need not apply
I have been sat here today wondering why anyone would want to work here. Aside from the perks of the job such as Friday pub time and no one caring what hours you keep of course. My department is so dull and I ended up here purely by accident in a ‘drive by temping’ so I just puzzle over the people who actually applied to work here and went through the interview process and everything.
Looking around it also makes you consider what the interview process must have been like to employ these people. I mean Andre alone is freaky even before she opens her mouth and god only knows what medieval get up she wore to her interview. She must have really talked the talk and managed to omit any Hobbit or Dr Who references throughout (quite a feat) in order to fool them into employing her. Maybe everyone else they saw was monumentally shit, as faced with that versus a normal with the same skills set I think I’d be sending out a rejection letter to 21 Bamblebrook Place, The Shire.
I guess many an employer has made the mistake of employing a nut job and regretted it eternally afterwards. Half an hour isn’t really enough time to gauge whether this person has any underlying freak tendencies or eats with their mouth open and we all lie at least a little bit when under fire in those situations don’t we? Plus there’s equal opportunities and we mustn’t discriminate against height, abnormally large man arses, abnormally large moon faces or a penchant for extra marital affairs must we?
So then I start to think maybe that was the plan, maybe they wanted to employ as many freaks and weirdo’s as they could and fill the department with them? We are the only department in this company that has this reputation and that goes internationally as well. The old boss who had the mental breakdown is mainly to blame as he took on most of the people here – hmmmm, maybe there’s the answer. I reckon there was a pre-requisite questionnaire that had to be completed by all staff:
Name:
Name you go by in 3rd Life:
Name you go by in Warcraft:
Name you told the girl in that bar last night:
Age:
Your real/human age:
Do you have any distinguishing features? E.g. Large body parts, freaky or abnormal hands, excessive facial hair etc.
Languages (real or fictitious) spoken:
How would you describe your general health?
a) Good, I exercise daily and eat a balanced diet
b) Fair, I am overweight and prefer to eat only kitkats, crisps, coke and animals killed by a crossbow but I do walk to work with a staff I got from Gandalf.
c) Bad, I have the biggest man arse in the world and have breathing difficulties after walking from the photocopier to my desk.
Aptitude tests:
If handed a banana to eat would you:
a) Peel it, take a bite, chew it quietly with your mouth shut, swallow it.
b) Offer it to the man sitting next to you EVERY TIME, peel it, take a bite, eat with your mouth open while you bang your teeth together and then have a full conversation with someone with the banana still in your mouth.
c) Refuse the banana as it may contain additives and wasn’t killed by a crossbow.
While working on a document are you most likely to:
a) Read it quietly, refer to colleagues for advice and submit it on time.
b) Read it out loud, talk to yourself continuously and laugh in a disconcerting manner at work emails then bitch about it all to everyone who will listen.
c) Read it quietly, work on it, save it to some unknown place on your computer, then be unable to find it, blame the computer, then find it and discover you have done it all wrong anyway because you were thinking about Orcs too much.
During a phone conversation are you likely to repeat any of the following words a ridiculous amount of times:
‘Yeah’, ‘Wooooow’, ‘Mmmmmm’, ‘Darling’, ‘Yeah’, ‘Absolutely’ (please delete as applicable)
We have a strict dress code which adopts professional and smart attire, however on Fridays we have a ‘dress down’ policy. Would you have an issue with this?
Yes
No
Can I wear my battle armour on the Friday?
Finally please list your personal hobbies and out of work activities, if you run out of room please use the additional freak sheet attached to this form.
If they fill out all the sections and score above 80% on the freak factor then they’re in! I have drawn the conclusion that this could be the only way they could have been allowed to enter the building, let alone the company. I snuck in as they originally only thought I would be here for 6 weeks (sigh, so did I) and felt the need to weigh up the ‘normal / not so normal’ quota. People would get suspicious otherwise.
Looking around it also makes you consider what the interview process must have been like to employ these people. I mean Andre alone is freaky even before she opens her mouth and god only knows what medieval get up she wore to her interview. She must have really talked the talk and managed to omit any Hobbit or Dr Who references throughout (quite a feat) in order to fool them into employing her. Maybe everyone else they saw was monumentally shit, as faced with that versus a normal with the same skills set I think I’d be sending out a rejection letter to 21 Bamblebrook Place, The Shire.
I guess many an employer has made the mistake of employing a nut job and regretted it eternally afterwards. Half an hour isn’t really enough time to gauge whether this person has any underlying freak tendencies or eats with their mouth open and we all lie at least a little bit when under fire in those situations don’t we? Plus there’s equal opportunities and we mustn’t discriminate against height, abnormally large man arses, abnormally large moon faces or a penchant for extra marital affairs must we?
So then I start to think maybe that was the plan, maybe they wanted to employ as many freaks and weirdo’s as they could and fill the department with them? We are the only department in this company that has this reputation and that goes internationally as well. The old boss who had the mental breakdown is mainly to blame as he took on most of the people here – hmmmm, maybe there’s the answer. I reckon there was a pre-requisite questionnaire that had to be completed by all staff:
Name:
Name you go by in 3rd Life:
Name you go by in Warcraft:
Name you told the girl in that bar last night:
Age:
Your real/human age:
Do you have any distinguishing features? E.g. Large body parts, freaky or abnormal hands, excessive facial hair etc.
Languages (real or fictitious) spoken:
How would you describe your general health?
a) Good, I exercise daily and eat a balanced diet
b) Fair, I am overweight and prefer to eat only kitkats, crisps, coke and animals killed by a crossbow but I do walk to work with a staff I got from Gandalf.
c) Bad, I have the biggest man arse in the world and have breathing difficulties after walking from the photocopier to my desk.
Aptitude tests:
If handed a banana to eat would you:
a) Peel it, take a bite, chew it quietly with your mouth shut, swallow it.
b) Offer it to the man sitting next to you EVERY TIME, peel it, take a bite, eat with your mouth open while you bang your teeth together and then have a full conversation with someone with the banana still in your mouth.
c) Refuse the banana as it may contain additives and wasn’t killed by a crossbow.
While working on a document are you most likely to:
a) Read it quietly, refer to colleagues for advice and submit it on time.
b) Read it out loud, talk to yourself continuously and laugh in a disconcerting manner at work emails then bitch about it all to everyone who will listen.
c) Read it quietly, work on it, save it to some unknown place on your computer, then be unable to find it, blame the computer, then find it and discover you have done it all wrong anyway because you were thinking about Orcs too much.
During a phone conversation are you likely to repeat any of the following words a ridiculous amount of times:
‘Yeah’, ‘Wooooow’, ‘Mmmmmm’, ‘Darling’, ‘Yeah’, ‘Absolutely’ (please delete as applicable)
We have a strict dress code which adopts professional and smart attire, however on Fridays we have a ‘dress down’ policy. Would you have an issue with this?
Yes
No
Can I wear my battle armour on the Friday?
Finally please list your personal hobbies and out of work activities, if you run out of room please use the additional freak sheet attached to this form.
If they fill out all the sections and score above 80% on the freak factor then they’re in! I have drawn the conclusion that this could be the only way they could have been allowed to enter the building, let alone the company. I snuck in as they originally only thought I would be here for 6 weeks (sigh, so did I) and felt the need to weigh up the ‘normal / not so normal’ quota. People would get suspicious otherwise.
Monday 8 February 2010
Drama, drama, drama
One thing I always try to do at work (especially with this place) is to keep my personal life just that. I don't want these people to know about the fine details of my existence outside this freak show and am quite happy to know as little about theirs as well as on the whole it can be disturbing (but then what would you have to write about Nancy? Good point). I'm not secretive to the point of suspicion and when asked will happily discuss my weekend but you reign in on some of the particulars don't you? For example "a few drink on Friday night" rather than "got hammered with my mates, can't remember much of the evening but got in at 5am and woke up on the bathroom floor clutching a bag of chips - do you want to see the photo's on Facebook?" I'm also not big on the talking about your relationship thing at work unlike a lot of my colleagues - again with the work/private life separation. But hey, each to their own.
Last year, one of the girls in our department happened to go to the other extreme and managed to drag her entire personal life into the office and also involve members of staff in the process. For me, as a happy bystander, it was actually quite entertaining as this car crash unravelled in front of us. For my boss at the time however it was not and she ended somehow caught up in a sapphic love triangle with a phone call from Thames Valley Police.
I'll try to keep it brief but there are so many twists and turns you'll have to excuse me if I wander.
Lets call this lady Saffa (yes, she's the poor South African getting pastry spat over her by CJ at Starbucks the other morning), and Saffa is in her early 30's and married to an English lady in her 40's who we will call Jane. Saffa and Jane had been going out for 2 years before they were married and brought a place together soon after. If you ask around the office, the general opinion is that Jane was more keen than Saffa to marry so soon and it was all a bit too much to quick for her. If I am ever to ask Saffa how her weekend was the general response is something to do with Homebase or a dinner party or the cats or 'not much really', so not the most exhilarating personal life (unless she is taking a similar stance to me and has in fact been out pole dancing, taking coke and having threesomes - not necessarily in that order).
So some time last year Friday comes around one week and no sign of Saffa. Lunch time rolls round and in she rocks, "sorry I'm late" no explanation, no one really raises an eye lid as no one ever gives that much of a fuck. Friday goes, weekend's over before it's started and we're back at work on Monday. But no Saffa. Lunch time rolls around but still no Saffa. My previous boss, a fairly scary large northern woman who you would not want to piss off is starting to get a bit concerned and so tries Saffa's mobile. It's turned off so she tries to find a home number but we don't have one. Leaves a few messages and hopes for the best. Monday thankfully comes to a close and I run from the building. Tuesday. Still no Saffa.
Back then were the days where I was still a dedicated smoker and so would often be summoned to the car park by scary northern boss for a fag. The benefit of these was that I would also be able to catch up with any gossip as this lady had her ear to the ground. Turns out she's had some strange phone calls that morning.
"Hello can I speak to Saffa please?"
"She's not in the office - is that Jane?"
Person hangs up.
SNB informs me that she thinks it was 'the other woman' - this is news to me and so I delve for more information.
Story goes that Saffa has discovered an old work colleague on Face Book who she used to fancy the pants off but decided wasn't gay and so didn't pursue it. Seems her gaydar was all off that day and she is in fact a lesbanana. They get chatting, meet up, hook up and therein follows a 5 month affair. So where was she Friday morning? Sleeping because she'd been up all Thursday night doing the no pants dance with this lady.
Fag break number 2:
Some further phone calls. Another one from 'the other woman' asking if SNB knows where Saffa is as she can't get hold of her and is concerned. She's crying and apologising and SNB is thinking "christ get off the phone and leave me alone!" She asks for SNB's mobile number and gets the correct response of 'fuck off' and so leaves hers in case we hear anything. Call number 2 was from the wife Jane, also concerned about Saffa's whereabouts but not crying. Apparently on Monday morning 'the other woman' turned up on their door step demanding to see Saffa. Saffa says "I'm going to sort this out" - fair enough, a chat in the car, perhaps a coffee somewhere? Nope, they drive off and Saffa doesn't return until the next morning! Now I'm no Sherlock Holmes but it doesn't take too many brain cells to figure out what they've been up to and I'm thinking it doesn't involve much talking.
Fag break number 3:
She's had them both on the phone again, heart to hearts going on, tears, advice.... Jane has decided to forgive Saffa and take her back, 'the other woman' just "wants her to be happy".
Fag break number 4 (actually I've stopped smoking at this point and am just going outside for the updates):
Saffa's been found, she's in a hotel somewhere probably drinking the mini bar dry in some melodramatic fashion and Jane's off to pick her up. SNB says if she could ask Saffa to perhaps call her to explain her 2 days absence from work she'd really appreciate it. Seems she has lost all patience now and I can't say I blame her.
Fag break number 5:
There's been a phone call from the police. SNB cacked herself and thought she'd run a red light or something but they're following up leads on a missing Saffa case it turns out. Both women had filed missing persons reports - again with the melodrama. The police man seems to be confused.
"So I have spoken to Jane - which one is that?"
"That's her wife"
"OK, I'm a bit confused"
"You're confused?!"
"This is such a waste of police time"
"You know they've found her now"
"Have they?!"
Conclusion to this dramatic tale was that Jane took Saffa back, Saffa sent a very apologetic email to SNB as she hadn't the guts to call her, SNB spent most of Tuesday threatening to sack Saffa, Saffa came back into work on the Wednesday looking very sheepish, meeting with SNB resulted in no sacking somehow and nothing more was said....
By this point the entire office knew all the details of what had been going on and Saffa's personal life had been hung out for all and sundry to have a gawp at. Of course no one says anything to her face but you don't forget something like that do you? "Ah Saffa, isn't she the one in your department who had that affair?"
No idea what happened to 'the other woman', maybe she stopped crying eventually and found a new love of her life. I know she asked SNB out for a drink but I'm pretty sure that was not so politely refused.
Last year, one of the girls in our department happened to go to the other extreme and managed to drag her entire personal life into the office and also involve members of staff in the process. For me, as a happy bystander, it was actually quite entertaining as this car crash unravelled in front of us. For my boss at the time however it was not and she ended somehow caught up in a sapphic love triangle with a phone call from Thames Valley Police.
I'll try to keep it brief but there are so many twists and turns you'll have to excuse me if I wander.
Lets call this lady Saffa (yes, she's the poor South African getting pastry spat over her by CJ at Starbucks the other morning), and Saffa is in her early 30's and married to an English lady in her 40's who we will call Jane. Saffa and Jane had been going out for 2 years before they were married and brought a place together soon after. If you ask around the office, the general opinion is that Jane was more keen than Saffa to marry so soon and it was all a bit too much to quick for her. If I am ever to ask Saffa how her weekend was the general response is something to do with Homebase or a dinner party or the cats or 'not much really', so not the most exhilarating personal life (unless she is taking a similar stance to me and has in fact been out pole dancing, taking coke and having threesomes - not necessarily in that order).
So some time last year Friday comes around one week and no sign of Saffa. Lunch time rolls round and in she rocks, "sorry I'm late" no explanation, no one really raises an eye lid as no one ever gives that much of a fuck. Friday goes, weekend's over before it's started and we're back at work on Monday. But no Saffa. Lunch time rolls around but still no Saffa. My previous boss, a fairly scary large northern woman who you would not want to piss off is starting to get a bit concerned and so tries Saffa's mobile. It's turned off so she tries to find a home number but we don't have one. Leaves a few messages and hopes for the best. Monday thankfully comes to a close and I run from the building. Tuesday. Still no Saffa.
Back then were the days where I was still a dedicated smoker and so would often be summoned to the car park by scary northern boss for a fag. The benefit of these was that I would also be able to catch up with any gossip as this lady had her ear to the ground. Turns out she's had some strange phone calls that morning.
"Hello can I speak to Saffa please?"
"She's not in the office - is that Jane?"
Person hangs up.
SNB informs me that she thinks it was 'the other woman' - this is news to me and so I delve for more information.
Story goes that Saffa has discovered an old work colleague on Face Book who she used to fancy the pants off but decided wasn't gay and so didn't pursue it. Seems her gaydar was all off that day and she is in fact a lesbanana. They get chatting, meet up, hook up and therein follows a 5 month affair. So where was she Friday morning? Sleeping because she'd been up all Thursday night doing the no pants dance with this lady.
Fag break number 2:
Some further phone calls. Another one from 'the other woman' asking if SNB knows where Saffa is as she can't get hold of her and is concerned. She's crying and apologising and SNB is thinking "christ get off the phone and leave me alone!" She asks for SNB's mobile number and gets the correct response of 'fuck off' and so leaves hers in case we hear anything. Call number 2 was from the wife Jane, also concerned about Saffa's whereabouts but not crying. Apparently on Monday morning 'the other woman' turned up on their door step demanding to see Saffa. Saffa says "I'm going to sort this out" - fair enough, a chat in the car, perhaps a coffee somewhere? Nope, they drive off and Saffa doesn't return until the next morning! Now I'm no Sherlock Holmes but it doesn't take too many brain cells to figure out what they've been up to and I'm thinking it doesn't involve much talking.
Fag break number 3:
She's had them both on the phone again, heart to hearts going on, tears, advice.... Jane has decided to forgive Saffa and take her back, 'the other woman' just "wants her to be happy".
Fag break number 4 (actually I've stopped smoking at this point and am just going outside for the updates):
Saffa's been found, she's in a hotel somewhere probably drinking the mini bar dry in some melodramatic fashion and Jane's off to pick her up. SNB says if she could ask Saffa to perhaps call her to explain her 2 days absence from work she'd really appreciate it. Seems she has lost all patience now and I can't say I blame her.
Fag break number 5:
There's been a phone call from the police. SNB cacked herself and thought she'd run a red light or something but they're following up leads on a missing Saffa case it turns out. Both women had filed missing persons reports - again with the melodrama. The police man seems to be confused.
"So I have spoken to Jane - which one is that?"
"That's her wife"
"OK, I'm a bit confused"
"You're confused?!"
"This is such a waste of police time"
"You know they've found her now"
"Have they?!"
Conclusion to this dramatic tale was that Jane took Saffa back, Saffa sent a very apologetic email to SNB as she hadn't the guts to call her, SNB spent most of Tuesday threatening to sack Saffa, Saffa came back into work on the Wednesday looking very sheepish, meeting with SNB resulted in no sacking somehow and nothing more was said....
By this point the entire office knew all the details of what had been going on and Saffa's personal life had been hung out for all and sundry to have a gawp at. Of course no one says anything to her face but you don't forget something like that do you? "Ah Saffa, isn't she the one in your department who had that affair?"
No idea what happened to 'the other woman', maybe she stopped crying eventually and found a new love of her life. I know she asked SNB out for a drink but I'm pretty sure that was not so politely refused.
Friday 5 February 2010
Drinking in the Workplace
I’m in a particularly good mood today, it being Friday an all. There’s no management in, CJ has taken a flexi day (although god knows how she has actually built up any flexi with the times she rocks up in the morning/afternoon), Ladybum brought in donuts and we spent an hour and a half in the pub at lunch time with cider and nacho’s - what’s not to like?
I signed Ladybum’s leaving card this morning, it says on the front “Sorry you’re leaving” and I had to ask “but are we really?” Yes, yes, he brought donuts in, I shouldn’t be so mean, but I’m really not sure he’ll be missed that much. As I was signing the card Kirstie piped up “you know he’s not leaving today now?” Turns out he’s here an extra week, something to do with a prolonged project but I reckon they’ve just found all the work he hasn’t finished and told him it’s got to be done. He seemed quite happy about it though, I thought he’d be bitching the whole day through. Maybe this Friday feeling is catching?
Friday lunches in the pub are a regular affair and tend to be attended by me and the 3 other ‘normal’s’ I work with. There’s Kirstie and 2 others who I shall call Gunner as he’s a massive Arsenal fan and Ginger, because well she’s Ginger. I know no points for originality but like I said, they’re normal’s so no distinguishing marks or behaviours to twist into a hilarious play on words with my devilish wit. Depending on our mood lunch can last from 1-2 hours (the longest on record was 2 ½ hours last summer – go team!) and we will have a few swift ones and maybe get some food.
This is also the ideal time for us all to have a massive bitch about all the mentals in the office. You’ll be shocked to hear that the topic of discussion at the moment is CJ and her general annoyingness and manner that makes people want to smack her in the face. We spent a good 30 minutes or so on her today and have all started laying bets on how long she’ll last here. We do talk about other things, what we’re up to at the weekend, Gunner’s many past jobs and drug induced frolics as a youngster, Kirstie’s wish to return to Australia with her hubby…but it always comes back to the bitching. I’m not going to apologise, we all do it and quite frankly it’s a time to let off steam and a lot of people in our office would be charged with GBH if we didn’t.
Me and Gunner are the 2 regulars down the pub on a Friday, we’ll go on our own, join up with different departments (who normally stay for their allocated hour and then leave us getting another round in) or invite whoever’s interested to come along. Kirstie would like to come down more often but tends to get stung with those Friday lunch time meetings (who does that?!) and Ginger is either skiving (exhibit a – today), going to lunch with her hubby (and then not coming back) or wanting to leave early (as in 1.30pm). Ginger is very good at not coming into work, she knows how to play the system and I take my hat off to her for it but Gunner and I think Moon Monkey in his Gestapo manner is going to cotton on to this soon and she needs to watch her back.
I just read that sentence back – this blog is starting to sound like some 70’s kids TV series.
One lunch time a few months back Gunner and I had been putting the world and the office to rights and I managed to put back 3 pints of la Strongbow (it’s all class with me) in about an hour and a half. I hadn’t eaten and so came back to work fairly inebriated – let’s not mince around the facts here, I was pissed. We strolled into the office laughing away and my supervisor wanders up to us and says “What time do you call this?” Well, the apples kicked in and before I knew it the words had left my mouth “Er, about 2.30?”
Long pause.
Luckily he didn’t have a response to that so I hurried past and tried to look busy at my desk all afternoon whilst fighting the urge to fall asleep, laugh loudly at emails and pee every 5 minutes. I’d recommend being drunk in the work place though, it makes the day go a lot quicker and data entry can be quite challenging when you can’t type properly. And here I am still employed. Can’t complain can I?
I signed Ladybum’s leaving card this morning, it says on the front “Sorry you’re leaving” and I had to ask “but are we really?” Yes, yes, he brought donuts in, I shouldn’t be so mean, but I’m really not sure he’ll be missed that much. As I was signing the card Kirstie piped up “you know he’s not leaving today now?” Turns out he’s here an extra week, something to do with a prolonged project but I reckon they’ve just found all the work he hasn’t finished and told him it’s got to be done. He seemed quite happy about it though, I thought he’d be bitching the whole day through. Maybe this Friday feeling is catching?
Friday lunches in the pub are a regular affair and tend to be attended by me and the 3 other ‘normal’s’ I work with. There’s Kirstie and 2 others who I shall call Gunner as he’s a massive Arsenal fan and Ginger, because well she’s Ginger. I know no points for originality but like I said, they’re normal’s so no distinguishing marks or behaviours to twist into a hilarious play on words with my devilish wit. Depending on our mood lunch can last from 1-2 hours (the longest on record was 2 ½ hours last summer – go team!) and we will have a few swift ones and maybe get some food.
This is also the ideal time for us all to have a massive bitch about all the mentals in the office. You’ll be shocked to hear that the topic of discussion at the moment is CJ and her general annoyingness and manner that makes people want to smack her in the face. We spent a good 30 minutes or so on her today and have all started laying bets on how long she’ll last here. We do talk about other things, what we’re up to at the weekend, Gunner’s many past jobs and drug induced frolics as a youngster, Kirstie’s wish to return to Australia with her hubby…but it always comes back to the bitching. I’m not going to apologise, we all do it and quite frankly it’s a time to let off steam and a lot of people in our office would be charged with GBH if we didn’t.
Me and Gunner are the 2 regulars down the pub on a Friday, we’ll go on our own, join up with different departments (who normally stay for their allocated hour and then leave us getting another round in) or invite whoever’s interested to come along. Kirstie would like to come down more often but tends to get stung with those Friday lunch time meetings (who does that?!) and Ginger is either skiving (exhibit a – today), going to lunch with her hubby (and then not coming back) or wanting to leave early (as in 1.30pm). Ginger is very good at not coming into work, she knows how to play the system and I take my hat off to her for it but Gunner and I think Moon Monkey in his Gestapo manner is going to cotton on to this soon and she needs to watch her back.
I just read that sentence back – this blog is starting to sound like some 70’s kids TV series.
One lunch time a few months back Gunner and I had been putting the world and the office to rights and I managed to put back 3 pints of la Strongbow (it’s all class with me) in about an hour and a half. I hadn’t eaten and so came back to work fairly inebriated – let’s not mince around the facts here, I was pissed. We strolled into the office laughing away and my supervisor wanders up to us and says “What time do you call this?” Well, the apples kicked in and before I knew it the words had left my mouth “Er, about 2.30?”
Long pause.
Luckily he didn’t have a response to that so I hurried past and tried to look busy at my desk all afternoon whilst fighting the urge to fall asleep, laugh loudly at emails and pee every 5 minutes. I’d recommend being drunk in the work place though, it makes the day go a lot quicker and data entry can be quite challenging when you can’t type properly. And here I am still employed. Can’t complain can I?
Thursday 4 February 2010
Monkey See Monkey Do
Late into work today, 10.30am. Lets just say that for reasons beyond my control I didn’t make it in for 8.30am and I wasn’t exactly rushing for the bus either. I have of course been busying myself with work since then, trying to catch up, planning to work until at least 5.05pm and working through lunch. Of course.
The “Very important meeting for lots of people. Lunch for 40” is still going on today. Who knows they might have been there all night.
It’s unlikely any of us will actually find out what the meeting agenda is, who all those people eating sandwiches at lunch were and if it will impact on us until it already has. I always find it amazing how an international company like this can be so shat at communicating with people. The current boss, Moon Monkey seems to work on a ‘need to know’ basis with staff and it seems even the ladies on reception or the DHL man know about things that happen before we do.
This guy is an odd bod. He came into the department a couple of months ago all shiny and new and fresh from a big sparkly corporate company. We had high hopes. Maybe this guy will actually listen to us? Maybe we won’t all be sat here wondering if we’re going to be employed tomorrow. Maybe he won’t have a mental breakdown like the last one. I mean he didn’t have to do much to impress seeing as the previous manager left under a dark cloud of accusations, having managed to start an illicit affair with an employee, let her influence his decisions on everything, eventually lose his mind quite publicly in a team meeting and then be signed off work for ‘stress’ for 2 months before disappearing forever. Just got to turn up and smile really haven’t you?
So first impressions were – big face. Massive. Could land a small aircraft on his chin. So the names “Big Chin” and “Moon Face” were born. Also looks a bit like a badger. Not sure how old – maybe in his 50’s (it was discovered at the work Xmas party he is in fact 39 – there were a lot of open mouthed expressions and I think someone said “seriously?”) and no wedding band so might not be married (now we know he is and has an offspring). Not big on the “good mornings” as he enters the office but seemed nice enough. We even had a team meeting where he promised that everything would be out in the open and everyone would be kept informed unlike the old days – hurrah!
But moving on a matter of months and it seems that was actually a big pile of old bollocks. He doesn’t talk to anyone less than 2 scales below his pay packet and has turned out to be the twat we hoped he wouldn’t be. Everything by the book, corporate smarm, employing freaks like CJ, patronising comments - “good afternoon” as you walk in 5 minutes late – and wants everything done now, now, now! No, hang on I’ve changed my mind and want this instead now, now, now! So Moon Face has now moved on to Moon Monkey. And that wasn’t even us – the ladies on reception came up with that one and even made a picture – see above, good isn’t it?
Seems he is spreading the love wherever he goes.
Last night he was flying out to another one of our offices. Poor old Kirstie (funny how I always say “poor old…” first when I talk about her, the girl is very put upon in this place and not actually that old) had to organise all his travel arrangements and had booked a cab for 4.30pm. He moved it to 5pm. 5pm came and went and no sign of Moon Monkey. Kirstie found him in a meeting room and dragged him out (she can be quite scary) and so at about 5.30pm he left the office to get a 7.20pm flight.
This morning Kirstie opens up her email to find one from Moon Monkey:
“Dear Kirstie
Last night I had to stop the cab driver at Baron’s Court tube station and get public transport because I was scared for my life. The man drove like a lunatic and I would like you to call the cab company to complain and not book with that driver again.
Regards
Moon Monkey”
Apparently he got to Baron’s Court at about 6pm to get on the tube to Heathrow. Would have been a bit tight timing wise I’d imagine. Needless to say there was a distinct lack of sympathy in the office this morning. Maybe if he missed it he could call for a private jet – he’s got the landing strip just under his bottom lip after all.
It’s unlikely any of us will actually find out what the meeting agenda is, who all those people eating sandwiches at lunch were and if it will impact on us until it already has. I always find it amazing how an international company like this can be so shat at communicating with people. The current boss, Moon Monkey seems to work on a ‘need to know’ basis with staff and it seems even the ladies on reception or the DHL man know about things that happen before we do.
This guy is an odd bod. He came into the department a couple of months ago all shiny and new and fresh from a big sparkly corporate company. We had high hopes. Maybe this guy will actually listen to us? Maybe we won’t all be sat here wondering if we’re going to be employed tomorrow. Maybe he won’t have a mental breakdown like the last one. I mean he didn’t have to do much to impress seeing as the previous manager left under a dark cloud of accusations, having managed to start an illicit affair with an employee, let her influence his decisions on everything, eventually lose his mind quite publicly in a team meeting and then be signed off work for ‘stress’ for 2 months before disappearing forever. Just got to turn up and smile really haven’t you?
So first impressions were – big face. Massive. Could land a small aircraft on his chin. So the names “Big Chin” and “Moon Face” were born. Also looks a bit like a badger. Not sure how old – maybe in his 50’s (it was discovered at the work Xmas party he is in fact 39 – there were a lot of open mouthed expressions and I think someone said “seriously?”) and no wedding band so might not be married (now we know he is and has an offspring). Not big on the “good mornings” as he enters the office but seemed nice enough. We even had a team meeting where he promised that everything would be out in the open and everyone would be kept informed unlike the old days – hurrah!
But moving on a matter of months and it seems that was actually a big pile of old bollocks. He doesn’t talk to anyone less than 2 scales below his pay packet and has turned out to be the twat we hoped he wouldn’t be. Everything by the book, corporate smarm, employing freaks like CJ, patronising comments - “good afternoon” as you walk in 5 minutes late – and wants everything done now, now, now! No, hang on I’ve changed my mind and want this instead now, now, now! So Moon Face has now moved on to Moon Monkey. And that wasn’t even us – the ladies on reception came up with that one and even made a picture – see above, good isn’t it?
Seems he is spreading the love wherever he goes.
Last night he was flying out to another one of our offices. Poor old Kirstie (funny how I always say “poor old…” first when I talk about her, the girl is very put upon in this place and not actually that old) had to organise all his travel arrangements and had booked a cab for 4.30pm. He moved it to 5pm. 5pm came and went and no sign of Moon Monkey. Kirstie found him in a meeting room and dragged him out (she can be quite scary) and so at about 5.30pm he left the office to get a 7.20pm flight.
This morning Kirstie opens up her email to find one from Moon Monkey:
“Dear Kirstie
Last night I had to stop the cab driver at Baron’s Court tube station and get public transport because I was scared for my life. The man drove like a lunatic and I would like you to call the cab company to complain and not book with that driver again.
Regards
Moon Monkey”
Apparently he got to Baron’s Court at about 6pm to get on the tube to Heathrow. Would have been a bit tight timing wise I’d imagine. Needless to say there was a distinct lack of sympathy in the office this morning. Maybe if he missed it he could call for a private jet – he’s got the landing strip just under his bottom lip after all.
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Arse Shelf
The office is unusually quiet today, morgue like in fact. You know when the sound of your typing on the keyboard becomes deafening and you get all self conscious about it? The quietness often lends itself to the day dragging and today is no exception with the clock appearing to move backwards. I have tried Facebook, personal emails, listening to my i-pod, having a cup of tea just so I can dunk my digestives in it, texting everyone I know and even re-organising my desk draws. Still the clock doesn’t seem to move.
Of course there is work to be done and unfortunately due to the lack of response on emails, texts and the book of face I am being forced to do some. Today’s tedious task of choice is data entry, trawling through hundreds of forwarded emails from potential suppliers. Joy. I have a bachelors degree you know.
So now you see why all these zany freaks I work with keep me going through the day. I may bitch and moan about CJ but at least it’s a distraction. Today even she has deserted me (actually it’s been a nice intermission in the gaking and sighing) and sat at the other end of the room due to her laptop still being buggered through water damage. I even missed a conversation earlier where apparently she kept on using the words “sex” and “tits” in some kind of corporate manner. Damn.
One person who does seem to be making a lot of noise generally is a guy who will soon be leaving us as he quit last month. He is about 5’ 4” tall, roughly that wide and has the biggest arse on a man I have ever seen in my life. A ladybum, that’s what it is – a huge shelf of a ladybum. Seriously, I could perch my coffee on there. His size means he also has trouble walking and sometimes sits at his desk wheezing, sounding like he is about to pass out. This concerns me because I am the closest qualified first aider and I would have to give CPR…..shudder. He also has these dodgy eyes that go in different directions and you never know which one to look at when talking to him. He’s Welsh so the whining is quite high pitched because of his accent and incredibly camp even though he is married (yes there is hope for us all!). Not really blessed in the looks department all in all.
Ladybum can be a bit of a perv and he can be a bit of a pessimist. If you ever get into a conversation with him then it’s either him perving over you or having a good old bitch about someone. Currently his main topic of bitch is Moon Monkey as he is the reason Ladybum has quit. He doesn’t like the direction the departments going in and is fed up with Moon Monkey. Aren’t we all? People are openly avoiding him so not to be dragged under the black cloud he currently sits and all his phone calls are all taken in the same manner,
“Oh hello David…..yes I suppose you’ve heard the news?......Well I’ve just had enough….”
And so it goes on. He’s also unable to talk at a normal volume on the phone so I think the people in finance at the other end of the building know all about his plumber, accountant and gay nephews living arrangements. I can’t say I’ll miss him and the phone calls, if anything his ring tone is incredibly irritating and you just know he’s going to end up shouting at someone.
There also appears to be a big meeting going on in one of the rooms down the corridor which could be the reasoning for the quietness. None of us plebs here knew what it was for and it seems to include our entire management team so we looked it up in the meetings diary:
Wednesday 3rd February
9am – 4.30pm
A very important meeting for lots of people. Lunch for 40.
Clear as mud then.
Of course there is work to be done and unfortunately due to the lack of response on emails, texts and the book of face I am being forced to do some. Today’s tedious task of choice is data entry, trawling through hundreds of forwarded emails from potential suppliers. Joy. I have a bachelors degree you know.
So now you see why all these zany freaks I work with keep me going through the day. I may bitch and moan about CJ but at least it’s a distraction. Today even she has deserted me (actually it’s been a nice intermission in the gaking and sighing) and sat at the other end of the room due to her laptop still being buggered through water damage. I even missed a conversation earlier where apparently she kept on using the words “sex” and “tits” in some kind of corporate manner. Damn.
One person who does seem to be making a lot of noise generally is a guy who will soon be leaving us as he quit last month. He is about 5’ 4” tall, roughly that wide and has the biggest arse on a man I have ever seen in my life. A ladybum, that’s what it is – a huge shelf of a ladybum. Seriously, I could perch my coffee on there. His size means he also has trouble walking and sometimes sits at his desk wheezing, sounding like he is about to pass out. This concerns me because I am the closest qualified first aider and I would have to give CPR…..shudder. He also has these dodgy eyes that go in different directions and you never know which one to look at when talking to him. He’s Welsh so the whining is quite high pitched because of his accent and incredibly camp even though he is married (yes there is hope for us all!). Not really blessed in the looks department all in all.
Ladybum can be a bit of a perv and he can be a bit of a pessimist. If you ever get into a conversation with him then it’s either him perving over you or having a good old bitch about someone. Currently his main topic of bitch is Moon Monkey as he is the reason Ladybum has quit. He doesn’t like the direction the departments going in and is fed up with Moon Monkey. Aren’t we all? People are openly avoiding him so not to be dragged under the black cloud he currently sits and all his phone calls are all taken in the same manner,
“Oh hello David…..yes I suppose you’ve heard the news?......Well I’ve just had enough….”
And so it goes on. He’s also unable to talk at a normal volume on the phone so I think the people in finance at the other end of the building know all about his plumber, accountant and gay nephews living arrangements. I can’t say I’ll miss him and the phone calls, if anything his ring tone is incredibly irritating and you just know he’s going to end up shouting at someone.
There also appears to be a big meeting going on in one of the rooms down the corridor which could be the reasoning for the quietness. None of us plebs here knew what it was for and it seems to include our entire management team so we looked it up in the meetings diary:
Wednesday 3rd February
9am – 4.30pm
A very important meeting for lots of people. Lunch for 40.
Clear as mud then.
Tuesday 2 February 2010
Can I have cream with my P45 please?
This morning the department were treated to an ‘informal team meeting’ in Starbucks. Free coffees and pastries all round. So who’s getting fired then?
It was a good opportunity to survey the band of freaks, geeks and pyscho’s I work with as I sat sipping my latte and pretending to be interested in the conversation going on around me.
There was CJ spraying pieces of pain au chocolate all over the poor Saffa girl, who politely smiled and listened while she no doubt was horrified by the spectacle going on in front of her and wishing she had a wetwipe. Me and one of the other ‘normals’ sat and watched in fascination as CJ stored the food in her cheek like a hamster while she talked.
Andre was panicking about her lack of fruit toast, “Where’s my fruit toast?! I ordered fruit toast!!” I’m actually surprised she ate or drank anything in there as it hadn’t been shot, trapped or slow roasted over cow dung.
Poor old Kirstie Allsopp (we shall call her thus due to her complete obsession with her home and doing it up – she is also a (nearly) ‘normal’) was having to dish out drinks and as everyone ignored her shouts of “Chai Latte!” and “Skinny Mochachino!”. I would have got up to help but just couldn’t be arsed.
The big boss, Moon Monkey (long story but the nickname has developed over many months and does have some reference to his massive moon face) attempted to make a few announcements about staffing and what-not but it was hard to hear him over the easy listening jazz pumping out the speakers around us. He also finally said “thank you” for the champagne and card we gave to congratulate him on the birth of his first child. We still have no idea what it’s called, we know it’s a ‘she’ and that’s about it. He’s not the most open and chatty man, when he disappeared out of the office and they announced his wife had gone into labour we didn’t even know he was married. He’s promised photo’s. I hope for his wife’s sake it doesn’t have his facial features.
On returning to the office CJ promptly spilt a glass of water all over her desk and killed her laptop. The IT guy was not impressed and borrowed my 2 tins of spaghetti hoops to prop it up over a vent in order to dry it out. The bonus is that she has had to move desks (did she break the PC as well?!). One of her favourite words she says a lot is ‘darling’ and so this was used profusely as she was mopping up.
“Oh no, I’ve spilt water over my darling laptop, I was too engrossed in this darling requisition”
It’s like the set of Ab Fab but without the champagne or laughter.
It was a good opportunity to survey the band of freaks, geeks and pyscho’s I work with as I sat sipping my latte and pretending to be interested in the conversation going on around me.
There was CJ spraying pieces of pain au chocolate all over the poor Saffa girl, who politely smiled and listened while she no doubt was horrified by the spectacle going on in front of her and wishing she had a wetwipe. Me and one of the other ‘normals’ sat and watched in fascination as CJ stored the food in her cheek like a hamster while she talked.
Andre was panicking about her lack of fruit toast, “Where’s my fruit toast?! I ordered fruit toast!!” I’m actually surprised she ate or drank anything in there as it hadn’t been shot, trapped or slow roasted over cow dung.
Poor old Kirstie Allsopp (we shall call her thus due to her complete obsession with her home and doing it up – she is also a (nearly) ‘normal’) was having to dish out drinks and as everyone ignored her shouts of “Chai Latte!” and “Skinny Mochachino!”. I would have got up to help but just couldn’t be arsed.
The big boss, Moon Monkey (long story but the nickname has developed over many months and does have some reference to his massive moon face) attempted to make a few announcements about staffing and what-not but it was hard to hear him over the easy listening jazz pumping out the speakers around us. He also finally said “thank you” for the champagne and card we gave to congratulate him on the birth of his first child. We still have no idea what it’s called, we know it’s a ‘she’ and that’s about it. He’s not the most open and chatty man, when he disappeared out of the office and they announced his wife had gone into labour we didn’t even know he was married. He’s promised photo’s. I hope for his wife’s sake it doesn’t have his facial features.
On returning to the office CJ promptly spilt a glass of water all over her desk and killed her laptop. The IT guy was not impressed and borrowed my 2 tins of spaghetti hoops to prop it up over a vent in order to dry it out. The bonus is that she has had to move desks (did she break the PC as well?!). One of her favourite words she says a lot is ‘darling’ and so this was used profusely as she was mopping up.
“Oh no, I’ve spilt water over my darling laptop, I was too engrossed in this darling requisition”
It’s like the set of Ab Fab but without the champagne or laughter.
Monday 1 February 2010
Lord of the Ringbinders
I have just been having a rather in-depth conversation about guns, firearms and battlefield weaponry. This seemed to somehow follow on from a previous conversation about kitchen bins. I’m not sure how we got there but in her usual manner Andre the Giant who sits behind me managed to saunter in on some inane chat and turn it into a topic of her choice. Andre (so called because of her massiveness in every respect) is very English. I don’t mean this as an insult, she would probably in fact take it as a compliment – I also don’t mean she’s some racist bigot, far from it. I mean that everything about her is English and ideally (for her) it is medieval English or anything pre the 1900’s.
Andre is very well spoken, only ever eats home made olde English recipes (that for some reason smell like warmed up road kill), wears robes and coats made by her own person tailor in traditional medieval style, owns a crossbow, a staff and I am pretty sure some firearms too. She will always wear her long blonde hair in plaits and knows everything there is to know about British history, and then some. I’m regularly handed print outs about what particular feast day of the year it is and the meaning behind it and if you happen to mention something with a historical reference in it she’ll pipe up with all the facts and details to it – whether you want them or not.
In contrast Andre is also a massive sci fi / fantasy geek and on her desk where people normally have pictures of their kids, partners or cats she has autographed print outs of the cast from Star Trek and Blake’s 7. She has been to several sci-fi conventions since I started here and to one took 8 changes of costume, including a dragon lady (you have no idea how scary this prospect is without seeing her with your own eyes – stuff of nightmares) outfit. Lord of the Rings is a way of life for her and I have been part of celebrations in the office for Frodo and Bilbo Baggin’s Birthdays (this included 7 courses served throughout the day and a sit down picnic lunch) and the ‘Ring Day’ where we celebrate the destruction of ‘the ring’. That’s right, the one ring that would rule them all. She can also write and speak Elfish and does so when taking minutes in meetings. Oh and she’s also a big fan of sumo wrestling and last year spent 2 weeks annual leave in Japan watching a tournament.
Now as I type I can hear you shouting “FREAK” from your desk/bed/sofa/toilet or wherever you may be reading this. And yes there is no denying it, the lady has certain lifestyle choices that do allocate her into the category of ‘not so normal’. However, you have to admire the woman….well, from afar anyway. In this hobbit loving, pheasant cooking, robe wearing, crossbow shooting, autograph hunting, costume wearing, history quoting lady’s world she is happy! She don’t give a stuff what anyone else thinks and will happily wander up the high street with a long red tunic on over her work clothes and staff in hand. She’ll hand out cakes to celebrate the christening of Gandalf and ignore the whispers and sniggers in the office. As she once said to me “why would I want to live in the real world?” The lady has a point.
Still a massive freak though.
Andre is very well spoken, only ever eats home made olde English recipes (that for some reason smell like warmed up road kill), wears robes and coats made by her own person tailor in traditional medieval style, owns a crossbow, a staff and I am pretty sure some firearms too. She will always wear her long blonde hair in plaits and knows everything there is to know about British history, and then some. I’m regularly handed print outs about what particular feast day of the year it is and the meaning behind it and if you happen to mention something with a historical reference in it she’ll pipe up with all the facts and details to it – whether you want them or not.
In contrast Andre is also a massive sci fi / fantasy geek and on her desk where people normally have pictures of their kids, partners or cats she has autographed print outs of the cast from Star Trek and Blake’s 7. She has been to several sci-fi conventions since I started here and to one took 8 changes of costume, including a dragon lady (you have no idea how scary this prospect is without seeing her with your own eyes – stuff of nightmares) outfit. Lord of the Rings is a way of life for her and I have been part of celebrations in the office for Frodo and Bilbo Baggin’s Birthdays (this included 7 courses served throughout the day and a sit down picnic lunch) and the ‘Ring Day’ where we celebrate the destruction of ‘the ring’. That’s right, the one ring that would rule them all. She can also write and speak Elfish and does so when taking minutes in meetings. Oh and she’s also a big fan of sumo wrestling and last year spent 2 weeks annual leave in Japan watching a tournament.
Now as I type I can hear you shouting “FREAK” from your desk/bed/sofa/toilet or wherever you may be reading this. And yes there is no denying it, the lady has certain lifestyle choices that do allocate her into the category of ‘not so normal’. However, you have to admire the woman….well, from afar anyway. In this hobbit loving, pheasant cooking, robe wearing, crossbow shooting, autograph hunting, costume wearing, history quoting lady’s world she is happy! She don’t give a stuff what anyone else thinks and will happily wander up the high street with a long red tunic on over her work clothes and staff in hand. She’ll hand out cakes to celebrate the christening of Gandalf and ignore the whispers and sniggers in the office. As she once said to me “why would I want to live in the real world?” The lady has a point.
Still a massive freak though.
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