How to ruin any chance of promotion.
Well it seems that in most offices there are people lined up to nut nuzzle, schmooze or woo the boss to be promoted. I find it interesting how the office back stabber and office nut nuzzler (brown nose) seem to be in allegiance until it comes down to a final show down. In the meantime, the office strumpet is practically shimmying about the office attempting to hypnotise the boss with booosoka shuffling. It can either entice the boss or result in motion sickness – it all depends on rate of motion and angle. Unfortunately, for the office strumpet, she usually misses the position because she is already lying on her back with some other high-ranking, married superior who offers power potential through association.
All the while the office victim is telling stories of how she has been overlooked for promotion ten years in a row and how nothing good ever happens to her. The office efficient is planning her secret efficient strategy. The office bore is telling a three-hour self-amused story of the day he once heard that someone might have been promoted – which was actually him. In that monologue he deviates numerous times and forgets what he was actually trying to tell you. To him it is incredibly amusing but to others they would rather have hair ripped from their private parts. At that point, the rest of the team are standing by the window trying to work out how they can escape through the bombproof glass without actually dying… Why does no one ever bring long ropes and glass cutters to the office for such necessary escape eventuality?
So of course while the majority of the team consider abseiling twenty floors to escape the office bore, the office backstabber and nut nuzzle are freed up to do their thing! When it comes to being under pressure to get promotion both will return to their natural behaviour: the back stabber prepares to backstab the nut nuzzler. However, all animals have survival techniques and the nut nuzzler has cleverly adopted his natural instinct to survive. He has already bent over and has adopted the brown nosing position behind the back stabber. Obviously, the back stabber receives pleasure from this action but the reward for promotion is greater than having your ego massaged internally using a nose. From the observers point of view the pair resemble the snake trying to eat its own tail and a no win situation ensues. The backstabber is unable to backstab the nut nuzzler because he is practically absorbed in her behind. The backstabber has essentially become a living hat. What’s more, you cannot backstab yourself and it is hard to backstab someone standing behind you unless you are a martial artist and can do a good back flip at the perfect time. While all this is taking place I realised that promotion simply means more work. It also means more responsibility, more stress and less time to write blogs about what takes place in the office. What at first seemed to be an unintentional technique to avoid promotion has revealed it is my natural tendency. How can the office observer observe if they are working flat out? So if you do want to be promoted do not do any of the below:
• Do not send pictures of dogs in wigs to your boss, especially if he has no hair or wears a wig himself. If the boss is a woman, she may also be offended because she may interpret that you are likening her to a dog. Admittedly, it was a great idea at the time but a dog in a wig does nothing to convince your boss of leadership skills, other than leadership of dogs in wigs. What’s more, do not sit hysterically laughing at the array of dogs you have found on the internet when you are supposed to be working towards a crucial presentation, which does not involve said dogs in wigs. It could actually suggest that you are evolving into the office I do diddlysquat.
• When disclosing psychological techniques for delivering bad news do not say anything actually offensive directly to you boss. The sandwich technique is a classic technique where you sandwich the bad news between two pieces of good news. Take for example the following delivery, which I gave my boss as an example. “So how you deliver the bad news is like this: that is a nice shirt, yep you’re ugly as sin, but you have nice shoes.”
“Hang on that’s a bit harsh…”
In that moment, I realised my choice of bad news was not terribly thought through. I had essentially told my boss that he was ugly. Oh God!!!!!!!!!!!!! (He isn’t at all. He is actually quite handsome. Oooops!”
And that was when the digging begins… The hole was already deep and was becoming a well.
‘No not you… You are actually good looking – but you know that. You must know that. No, you are definitely not ugly as sin. It was just an example of bad news… It just popped into my head… Oh God! Please do not be offended. Your wife must think you are good looking… She married you didn’t she? See that is more evidence of you not being ugly as sin. Admittedly, she might have really liked your personality. I did not just say that… Oh God… You are a good-looking man… You don’t need me to tell you that…’
Dig, dig, dig.
The hole wasn’t just deep - it was becoming a well.
Silence.
Intensive blushing.
Nervous laughter and time to involve the team and get them away from the window and the office bore.
“He’s good looking isn’t he? He’s not ugly as sin.”
The teammates gazed at me in horror as I continued to justify what I said. Promotion for miss dry… Pahhhh! No chance! Bus trip to work banishment – oh one ticket please! No return!
When you actively involve teammates to justify the horrifying thing you have just said by accident you know it has all gone wrong. In that moment of silence, I realised there was no saving the situation.
“Look over there,” I said pointing. They all looked over there and I hid under the desk. (Actually, I made that up, but thinking about it… That is what I will do in the future). Anyway, from now on I will bring in my own tumbleweed and roll it around the office!
• Alternatively, you can evolve into the role of office stinker and repel everyone on a daily basis. You will definitely not even be called into potential promotion interview through the boss’s fear of being stuck in a confined space with a hideous stench.
• If you really do not want to avoid promotion just make a massive mistake with your name on. When I worked as a temp, I once made a payment of eight hundred dollars to the wrong account. I was beside myself and instantly ran over to my previous boss and apologised profusely. She turned to me and smiled. ‘That is cannon fodder Michelle, I once paid the wrong account eight one million. Strangely, she was a boss… Hmm… Thinking about it – maybe my theory is not perfect! In fact, maybe my antics will keep me in the mind of the boss and get me a promotion that I do not really want. Actually too late – office power-hungry has convinced everyone of her true potential and as always, she has taken no prisoners. The backstabber can never backstab her because she knows that power hungry will lift her by the throat and stare into her eyes like Darth Vader! There will be deep breathing and there will be power surges through the office that no one can actually explain.
So moral of the story: bring long ropes and glasscutters to work. The action of considering escape from the office bores three-hour monologue will endear you to the team and create the perfect teambuilding escape strategy.
Moral of the story two – when laughing hysterically at images of dogs in wigs and fancy dress – go to the bathroom and laugh. Do not share the images with boss or anyone with hair depreciation.
Moral of the story three – when offending a person of a higher title than you – make sure you sandwich it, have and escape route or offer them the office strumpet as a distraction for offense – that is if she is not already being taken by anyone else.
Sunday 24 April 2011
Thursday 21 April 2011
TOILET OF TERROR!
The office toilet dynamic and the curious incident of the nostril violator.
Whether we like it or not, we all, during the course of the day, have to visit the office loo. To be honest if I did not have to go I would avoid the toiletry dynamic at all costs. So today, as with every other day I have ventured into the toilet of terror! Yes it is the toilet of terror. You never know who, what or how you are going to find this loo. What’s more, when you do venture there it is often the case that cleaning is in progress and the appropriate ‘you must cross your legs and wait’ sign is stuck to the door. Now when you have a cleaning sign on the door you generally make the assumption that cleaning is taking place. I believe this cleaner may well be the anti-thesis of cleaning and goes in there and destroys the area. In actual fact I think she goes in there and sprays nostril violation stink bombs and throws toilet paper on the floor so it can get stuck to your shoes.
When I have finally managed to access the toilet of terror, I have noticed some common themes that appear to be repeat toiletry patterns. The end loo is always taken by someone sitting rustling loo roll. That in toiletry terms means it is time to evacuate the area – women and children first and I am letting you know of an impending posterior tragedy. Also if anyone passes wind in the bathroom they generally have a tendency to stay in the cubicle until any potential witnesses have left. If miss vanity is in the loo the rips-snorter creator is likely to be in the toilet most of the day.
Talking of the office vanity, she seems to spend the majority of the day studying her non-existent zits in the mirror. She applies make-up on make-up and adjusts, readjusts and adjusts her clothing. Her hair is endlessly brushed and lip gloss is applied then re-applied and applied again. Some call it applying the slap, I would say that is a defensive technique to buffer the slap that she deserves for allowing other people to sweat blood while she makes herself look nice. What’s more, she gets away with this by fluttering her false eyelashes and smelling nice. In one office I worked in we had to type a code into the phone to collate the time that we spent in the loo. This then became a metric and each person’s time in the loo was added up and added to a chart. One particular girl was called into a meeting and asked her to justify her average time spent in the loo.
I just walked into the ‘restroom’ to find the office ‘I am on a diet’ studying her bottom in the mirror. Clenching one’s bottom cheeks does not change the size of the bottom, only the shape. It you wear cheap trousers clenching will only reveal cellulite and make it look like a squashed organge, so don’t do it. Now, something I have noticed is that when women look in mirrors they adopt what I now call ‘the my best slim face. ‘ They suck in their cheeks and kind of do an ‘I’m in a magazine pose.’ What’s more, it seems that all women do this – no exception – the old, the ugly, the strumpet the cute – all of them! They also have a tendency to look at themselves from a three-quarter angle and lift up the closest shoulder. Some look hunched others look like pin-ups others… Well… We won’t go there. Many also tip their head to hide double chins. I guess that I notice this because for years I worked as a photographer on cruise ships. And when it came to photographing portly women I had to stand on something tall and make them look up to avoid capturing extra chins or hanging skin. Obviously sometimes you might have to consider standing on the ship’s funnel to get the best angle and distance but you had to do what you had to do to get the best shot. At one time I was re-touching and asked to add a whole head of hair to a bald man… I have also had to remove every wrinkle from and eighty year old… Try doing that when she had probably spent about sixty years in the sun!
Sorry I deviated from the bathroom. In the toilet of terror there is often the moment of loo role lack. I have heard people whimper ‘hello… Is anyone there… There is no loo roll in here…’
Now what I do wonder is who in their right mind would choose to clean loos? There must be other alternatives than loos. One particular cleaner I met at a previous work place was amazing. She interpreted the little messages from the loo. Rather than reading tea leaves she could read other things and offer her opinion on your life and diet… She could tell you about your state of health according to colour, texture and consistency. I never took my opportunity to have this done because I did not comprehend how the shape of my intestine could actually shape my life. Also I have never felt the need to share my posterial creations with strangers…
Talking of that… I do have a real issue with those who do not flush the loo. Now what is going on with that? Is it that people are proud, want to show off or simply torture others? There is nothing worse than walking into a loo with an item floating there which has not flushed. Admittedly most people’s reaction is to turn and walk away. Please flush it because it will affect other people’s days. In terms of being kind to your fellow humans - why allow them to experience the horror that you have experienced too? Now what people don’t actually know – apparently – is that if you repeatedly pump the flush button it will eventually flush. Effort in will result in a full flush…. Wow! Amazing!
Has anyone else ever witnessed the competition between length and force of peeing sound whilst other women visit the loo? Personally I have a tendency to suffer stage fright when others are present and have to really concentrate to allow anything to happen. Others seem to have the tendency to simply go for it and let loose. The sheer force and power behind it can lead me to a number of conclusions: they drank a river. Somewhere in their lineage they adopted a horse genetic. Or they have the pelvic floor of steel. I think the power-pee-er is more than likely the office power hungry because even in the bathroom her insecurity is demonstrated by the sheer force of her peeing skills.
Hovering… I understand that when we actually consider all the different bear behinds that have sat on toilet seats is quite disturbing, but hovering is not the answer. It seems that women who wish to strengthen their thighs and have no contact with the evil loo, often go for the hover, but the truth is hovering is selfish. Honestly how good are you at aiming? You might have a pelvic floor which could shoot a basketball but that is a rare phenomenon and you are messing up the loo for others and giving the anti-thesis cleaner no change to make her own mess!
Now I have just witnessed the ultimate in the bathroom, a woman who simply adjusted her tone and almost created a cyclic hum with her number one production. I am actually astounded – how did she learn that? Is it a natural talent?
What I would like to know is whether anyone else notices this stuff going on? Or is it that the office observer simply notices everything because they it is intrinsic to them.
Moral of the story: don’t visit the toilet of terror if you want to remain emotionally unaffected.
Moral of the story two: to compete in the power pee Olympics do numerous pelvic floor exercises at the desk. Build up your skills to shooting basketballs and only then compete!
Moral of the story three – develop a bladder of steel which can last nine hours without any visits. You will impress your boss because of how long you spend at the desk
Moral of the story four: bring your own potty to the desk.
Whether we like it or not, we all, during the course of the day, have to visit the office loo. To be honest if I did not have to go I would avoid the toiletry dynamic at all costs. So today, as with every other day I have ventured into the toilet of terror! Yes it is the toilet of terror. You never know who, what or how you are going to find this loo. What’s more, when you do venture there it is often the case that cleaning is in progress and the appropriate ‘you must cross your legs and wait’ sign is stuck to the door. Now when you have a cleaning sign on the door you generally make the assumption that cleaning is taking place. I believe this cleaner may well be the anti-thesis of cleaning and goes in there and destroys the area. In actual fact I think she goes in there and sprays nostril violation stink bombs and throws toilet paper on the floor so it can get stuck to your shoes.
When I have finally managed to access the toilet of terror, I have noticed some common themes that appear to be repeat toiletry patterns. The end loo is always taken by someone sitting rustling loo roll. That in toiletry terms means it is time to evacuate the area – women and children first and I am letting you know of an impending posterior tragedy. Also if anyone passes wind in the bathroom they generally have a tendency to stay in the cubicle until any potential witnesses have left. If miss vanity is in the loo the rips-snorter creator is likely to be in the toilet most of the day.
Talking of the office vanity, she seems to spend the majority of the day studying her non-existent zits in the mirror. She applies make-up on make-up and adjusts, readjusts and adjusts her clothing. Her hair is endlessly brushed and lip gloss is applied then re-applied and applied again. Some call it applying the slap, I would say that is a defensive technique to buffer the slap that she deserves for allowing other people to sweat blood while she makes herself look nice. What’s more, she gets away with this by fluttering her false eyelashes and smelling nice. In one office I worked in we had to type a code into the phone to collate the time that we spent in the loo. This then became a metric and each person’s time in the loo was added up and added to a chart. One particular girl was called into a meeting and asked her to justify her average time spent in the loo.
I just walked into the ‘restroom’ to find the office ‘I am on a diet’ studying her bottom in the mirror. Clenching one’s bottom cheeks does not change the size of the bottom, only the shape. It you wear cheap trousers clenching will only reveal cellulite and make it look like a squashed organge, so don’t do it. Now, something I have noticed is that when women look in mirrors they adopt what I now call ‘the my best slim face. ‘ They suck in their cheeks and kind of do an ‘I’m in a magazine pose.’ What’s more, it seems that all women do this – no exception – the old, the ugly, the strumpet the cute – all of them! They also have a tendency to look at themselves from a three-quarter angle and lift up the closest shoulder. Some look hunched others look like pin-ups others… Well… We won’t go there. Many also tip their head to hide double chins. I guess that I notice this because for years I worked as a photographer on cruise ships. And when it came to photographing portly women I had to stand on something tall and make them look up to avoid capturing extra chins or hanging skin. Obviously sometimes you might have to consider standing on the ship’s funnel to get the best angle and distance but you had to do what you had to do to get the best shot. At one time I was re-touching and asked to add a whole head of hair to a bald man… I have also had to remove every wrinkle from and eighty year old… Try doing that when she had probably spent about sixty years in the sun!
Sorry I deviated from the bathroom. In the toilet of terror there is often the moment of loo role lack. I have heard people whimper ‘hello… Is anyone there… There is no loo roll in here…’
Now what I do wonder is who in their right mind would choose to clean loos? There must be other alternatives than loos. One particular cleaner I met at a previous work place was amazing. She interpreted the little messages from the loo. Rather than reading tea leaves she could read other things and offer her opinion on your life and diet… She could tell you about your state of health according to colour, texture and consistency. I never took my opportunity to have this done because I did not comprehend how the shape of my intestine could actually shape my life. Also I have never felt the need to share my posterial creations with strangers…
Talking of that… I do have a real issue with those who do not flush the loo. Now what is going on with that? Is it that people are proud, want to show off or simply torture others? There is nothing worse than walking into a loo with an item floating there which has not flushed. Admittedly most people’s reaction is to turn and walk away. Please flush it because it will affect other people’s days. In terms of being kind to your fellow humans - why allow them to experience the horror that you have experienced too? Now what people don’t actually know – apparently – is that if you repeatedly pump the flush button it will eventually flush. Effort in will result in a full flush…. Wow! Amazing!
Has anyone else ever witnessed the competition between length and force of peeing sound whilst other women visit the loo? Personally I have a tendency to suffer stage fright when others are present and have to really concentrate to allow anything to happen. Others seem to have the tendency to simply go for it and let loose. The sheer force and power behind it can lead me to a number of conclusions: they drank a river. Somewhere in their lineage they adopted a horse genetic. Or they have the pelvic floor of steel. I think the power-pee-er is more than likely the office power hungry because even in the bathroom her insecurity is demonstrated by the sheer force of her peeing skills.
Hovering… I understand that when we actually consider all the different bear behinds that have sat on toilet seats is quite disturbing, but hovering is not the answer. It seems that women who wish to strengthen their thighs and have no contact with the evil loo, often go for the hover, but the truth is hovering is selfish. Honestly how good are you at aiming? You might have a pelvic floor which could shoot a basketball but that is a rare phenomenon and you are messing up the loo for others and giving the anti-thesis cleaner no change to make her own mess!
Now I have just witnessed the ultimate in the bathroom, a woman who simply adjusted her tone and almost created a cyclic hum with her number one production. I am actually astounded – how did she learn that? Is it a natural talent?
What I would like to know is whether anyone else notices this stuff going on? Or is it that the office observer simply notices everything because they it is intrinsic to them.
Moral of the story: don’t visit the toilet of terror if you want to remain emotionally unaffected.
Moral of the story two: to compete in the power pee Olympics do numerous pelvic floor exercises at the desk. Build up your skills to shooting basketballs and only then compete!
Moral of the story three – develop a bladder of steel which can last nine hours without any visits. You will impress your boss because of how long you spend at the desk
Moral of the story four: bring your own potty to the desk.
Tuesday 19 April 2011
DARTH VADER BREATHING AND THE ART OF KEEPING CALM!
Darth Vader, the dark side and the disabled sticker.
Since we are all human, we all have off days. The virtues of kindness, joy and light evacuate and can be eclipsed. The result is the dark side taking over which, in psychology, is known as the shadow. I call this a Darth Vader day. Yesterday was that day for me…. We can’t all be perfect all of the time and in many cases most people can’t be perfect any of the time (no matter how much they convince themselves). So when the Darth Vader day arrives you just have to accept it and allow it to be. Rather than suppress any anger, rage or frustration I believe that experiencing it allows it to drive you and experience life to the full. If you suppress it it is like pushing it down and I believe the body repays you with uncontrollable flatulence or a bad stomach…
To me, when I feel anger, it is usually when I need to say no… Or disagree with something. If I do not say no I will have the incident buzzing around my head until I actually do say no. So Monday night is weigh in night for me… At the moment I am trying to shift an excess ten pounds, which has cleverly attached itself to my waist… So what better way to do that then to attend a weekly weigh in? Have you noticed with weigh-ins that as soon as you step on the scales you feel the need to confess everything that passed your lips?
In a rush, and already feeling a bit grumpy, I arrived at my car. And what has happened? I was blocked in. Not only was I blocked in, but on one side I had four inches to manoeuvre and the other side the person had actually parked on the double yellow line, on a corner and their bumper was actually touching mine! Why does it always happen when you are late? It was then the transformation began. The Darth Vader breathing increased and the dark side emerged… With the fight to remain calm, I took a closer look at the car behind. Did it have a dodgy hand break or was it light enough to life above my head. No. Worse. Booooom! It wasn’t just a car. It was a car with a disabled sticker in the window… What are you supposed to do with that? Other than adopt louder Darth Vader breathing.
I glanced around the road to see if I could see any disabled people who might own the car. Nothing… Then I stood for a moment and thought ‘hang on!’ Okay why is it okay that a disabled person did that with their car? Surely everyone should consider everyone else. I contemplated ringing the doorbells of all the nearby flats, but what was I supposed to ask? ‘Are there any disabled people in there who own car reg…’ I was completely flummoxed – it was not okay but I could not do anything about it. That is when the brewing began… I was angry but there was an ‘unfair card’ being pulled. I was supposed to not be angry because the person was disabled. In the end I simply got in the car and used both bumpers of the other cars to gauge my space. That is why they are called bumpers.
With a bee in my bonnet, I climbed on the scales at the weigh in and even worse I had gained 1.5 pounds… I reckon anger weighs heavier than fat! Actually in truth, during the week I had eaten one measly pizza. That was the only thing outside the dietary jurisdiction. To compensate I had been to the gym six times, been running, done abs and rowed for over an hour with the local rowers… And still a pizza had stuck to my body and would not shift.
‘But I only had one pizza,’ I said.
The weigher sighed, ‘carbs – make glycogen stores- that is what will be doing it… ‘
In that moment I was not only angry with being jammed in, the pizza was now on the list… Was I never going to be able to eat a pizza, chocolate or bread ever again just to remain slim…?
‘You probably have a very sensitive body – one which is very efficient,’ she said.
Brilliant – a body that is efficient and hoards pizza!
I have just discussed this with the office comedian and office cheeky. They have the following theory:
‘I would say that your body is not used to pizza,’ said office cheeky.
‘I suggest you increase the amount and frequency and you will build resilence to pizza,’ said office comedian with a certain look on his face.
‘Little and often…’ said office cheeky.
‘We know – we are your office dieticians,’ said office comedian contemplating eating yet another double decker whilst office cheeky filled a bucket with coffee and drank it through a straw!
So on the way home I called in at by best friend’s house. Her boyfriend wrestled the dog in the garden while I told them about the blocked in car.
“So what would you do?” I asked.
Mid-dog wrestle my male friend contemplated but was intent on extracting a dribble-imbued ball from the dog’s mouth. ‘Well there is no excuse unless the driver is blind!’ he finally said waving the drool covered ball victoriously.
My best friend and I frowned, ‘So what should I have done? Knock on all the flats and get a guide-dog to move the car.’
The dog and my best friend’s boyfriend stopped wrestling, looked at each other and nodded.
A little bit later, they served up dinner in the garden while I resorted to eating cucumber. They appeared a little concerned but I advised them of how efficient my body was. It was during this insightful moment that the dog adopted its best worming position and with a mad look in its eye appeared to be writing its name on the grass with his bottom. Of course that broke the atmosphere and made us all laugh. What’s more, the dog looked particularly proud of itself. I always find it amazing how dogs choose apt times to de-worm. This particular dog actually adopted that pose during a funeral and made a diagonal line amongst the guests while the eulogy was being read out. Well I left the house with my best-friend’s boyfriend demonstrating to the dog how to climb through the dog flap. It seemed the dog was enjoying watching the chap climb through and every time he went through the dog wagged his tail. Then when it came to the dog to go through the dog just sat and wagged its tail. I think that was a case of a dog training its owner!
So on my way home I came to the conclusion that I had to take action. I know this is bad and I do not profess to be an angel, but I think people need to be made aware how their behaviour affects others.
So I left a note on the car with the disabled sticker which said the following:
In the future please can you consider others? As you must be aware you blocked me in which made me late for an important meeting. Now I assume you expect me to consider you, well it should work both ways. As I currently see it – your behaviour was selfish and unkind. I think you should know that.
Moral of the story: if we all considered others - less bumpers would get bumped.
Moral of the story two: to lighten all dark sides employ a dog with worms.
Moral of the story three: don’t eat pizza if you want to be thin, don’t park where people can block you in and don’t eat your dinner (especially spaghetti) in plain view of a dog with worms!
Since we are all human, we all have off days. The virtues of kindness, joy and light evacuate and can be eclipsed. The result is the dark side taking over which, in psychology, is known as the shadow. I call this a Darth Vader day. Yesterday was that day for me…. We can’t all be perfect all of the time and in many cases most people can’t be perfect any of the time (no matter how much they convince themselves). So when the Darth Vader day arrives you just have to accept it and allow it to be. Rather than suppress any anger, rage or frustration I believe that experiencing it allows it to drive you and experience life to the full. If you suppress it it is like pushing it down and I believe the body repays you with uncontrollable flatulence or a bad stomach…
To me, when I feel anger, it is usually when I need to say no… Or disagree with something. If I do not say no I will have the incident buzzing around my head until I actually do say no. So Monday night is weigh in night for me… At the moment I am trying to shift an excess ten pounds, which has cleverly attached itself to my waist… So what better way to do that then to attend a weekly weigh in? Have you noticed with weigh-ins that as soon as you step on the scales you feel the need to confess everything that passed your lips?
In a rush, and already feeling a bit grumpy, I arrived at my car. And what has happened? I was blocked in. Not only was I blocked in, but on one side I had four inches to manoeuvre and the other side the person had actually parked on the double yellow line, on a corner and their bumper was actually touching mine! Why does it always happen when you are late? It was then the transformation began. The Darth Vader breathing increased and the dark side emerged… With the fight to remain calm, I took a closer look at the car behind. Did it have a dodgy hand break or was it light enough to life above my head. No. Worse. Booooom! It wasn’t just a car. It was a car with a disabled sticker in the window… What are you supposed to do with that? Other than adopt louder Darth Vader breathing.
I glanced around the road to see if I could see any disabled people who might own the car. Nothing… Then I stood for a moment and thought ‘hang on!’ Okay why is it okay that a disabled person did that with their car? Surely everyone should consider everyone else. I contemplated ringing the doorbells of all the nearby flats, but what was I supposed to ask? ‘Are there any disabled people in there who own car reg…’ I was completely flummoxed – it was not okay but I could not do anything about it. That is when the brewing began… I was angry but there was an ‘unfair card’ being pulled. I was supposed to not be angry because the person was disabled. In the end I simply got in the car and used both bumpers of the other cars to gauge my space. That is why they are called bumpers.
With a bee in my bonnet, I climbed on the scales at the weigh in and even worse I had gained 1.5 pounds… I reckon anger weighs heavier than fat! Actually in truth, during the week I had eaten one measly pizza. That was the only thing outside the dietary jurisdiction. To compensate I had been to the gym six times, been running, done abs and rowed for over an hour with the local rowers… And still a pizza had stuck to my body and would not shift.
‘But I only had one pizza,’ I said.
The weigher sighed, ‘carbs – make glycogen stores- that is what will be doing it… ‘
In that moment I was not only angry with being jammed in, the pizza was now on the list… Was I never going to be able to eat a pizza, chocolate or bread ever again just to remain slim…?
‘You probably have a very sensitive body – one which is very efficient,’ she said.
Brilliant – a body that is efficient and hoards pizza!
I have just discussed this with the office comedian and office cheeky. They have the following theory:
‘I would say that your body is not used to pizza,’ said office cheeky.
‘I suggest you increase the amount and frequency and you will build resilence to pizza,’ said office comedian with a certain look on his face.
‘Little and often…’ said office cheeky.
‘We know – we are your office dieticians,’ said office comedian contemplating eating yet another double decker whilst office cheeky filled a bucket with coffee and drank it through a straw!
So on the way home I called in at by best friend’s house. Her boyfriend wrestled the dog in the garden while I told them about the blocked in car.
“So what would you do?” I asked.
Mid-dog wrestle my male friend contemplated but was intent on extracting a dribble-imbued ball from the dog’s mouth. ‘Well there is no excuse unless the driver is blind!’ he finally said waving the drool covered ball victoriously.
My best friend and I frowned, ‘So what should I have done? Knock on all the flats and get a guide-dog to move the car.’
The dog and my best friend’s boyfriend stopped wrestling, looked at each other and nodded.
A little bit later, they served up dinner in the garden while I resorted to eating cucumber. They appeared a little concerned but I advised them of how efficient my body was. It was during this insightful moment that the dog adopted its best worming position and with a mad look in its eye appeared to be writing its name on the grass with his bottom. Of course that broke the atmosphere and made us all laugh. What’s more, the dog looked particularly proud of itself. I always find it amazing how dogs choose apt times to de-worm. This particular dog actually adopted that pose during a funeral and made a diagonal line amongst the guests while the eulogy was being read out. Well I left the house with my best-friend’s boyfriend demonstrating to the dog how to climb through the dog flap. It seemed the dog was enjoying watching the chap climb through and every time he went through the dog wagged his tail. Then when it came to the dog to go through the dog just sat and wagged its tail. I think that was a case of a dog training its owner!
So on my way home I came to the conclusion that I had to take action. I know this is bad and I do not profess to be an angel, but I think people need to be made aware how their behaviour affects others.
So I left a note on the car with the disabled sticker which said the following:
In the future please can you consider others? As you must be aware you blocked me in which made me late for an important meeting. Now I assume you expect me to consider you, well it should work both ways. As I currently see it – your behaviour was selfish and unkind. I think you should know that.
Moral of the story: if we all considered others - less bumpers would get bumped.
Moral of the story two: to lighten all dark sides employ a dog with worms.
Moral of the story three: don’t eat pizza if you want to be thin, don’t park where people can block you in and don’t eat your dinner (especially spaghetti) in plain view of a dog with worms!
Monday 18 April 2011
SATURDAY NIGHT BOTTOM MESMERISATION AND DAD DANCING!
Saturday night, hypnotic buttock motion and the role of dad dancing to impress women.
Saturday night, as with all Saturday nights, is the opportunity to venture into the human alcohol imbued jungle. It is the prime time to watch the mating techniques of numerous inebriated human animals. Large gestures, exaggerated hip motions and puffed out chests are just a few of the techniques used to attract attention. One of the major techniques in Bournemouth is ridiculous fancy dress outfits. When I say fancy dress I do not mean a ‘fancy’ dress as in a nice evening dress. Instead large groups of men (the stag night) can be witness dressed as babies, large items of fruit or super heroes. These are directly proportionate to hen parties who are dressed as policewomen, nurses or pirates. There are obviously variations on these themes but the women wear items that are revealing, a bit rude and are suggestive. In the opposite faction the men dress as fruit. I have not determined the ultimate psychology behind this, but essentially the men go for phallic / heroes. And the women go for ‘have some of this big boy!”
With all the above in mind, Saturday night is the prime opportunity to take part in a human safari. It is dangerous, there are conflicts and there are passing outs in the street. Survival of the fittest is demonstrated by the winning Alpha male escorting the most attractive female in the direction of a taxi. Of course there are those who are unsuccessful in the mating escapades. The women are often found collapsed in piles outside bars with opportunist men attempting to prize them off the pavement. Alternatively you find those who resort to stuffing chips and kebabs in their faces with far too much Chilly sauce as a consolidation prize.
So this brings me to the dance floor. The dance floor is the prime place for demonstration of sexual prowess. With low lights, alcohol and loud music this is the prime place to appear attractive without actually being attractive. The constant flashing of lights and intoxication evolves beyond beer goggles into cocktail glasses! No one has to talk; they just need to demonstrate their sexual prowess by dancing.
In terms of dance, or that which is defined as dance, - the pointing at of genitalia, waving at genitalia or simulating certain motions with your best friend or any passer-by who is not offended by the randy-dog leg grabbing technique appears in abundance. On this particular evening a group of stags, wearing baby attire, were in full testicular swing. Dad dancing extraordinaire was being demonstrated in all directions and genitalia thrusting filled the dance floor. As the evening hotted up, the men attempted to out thrust each other until two blondes arrived on the dance floor. That was when things became interesting and best friends stopped being best friends and survival of the fittest/alpha-malism competition was on!
The two blondes, wearing their best animal patterned dresses, rotated their hips and hypnotised. The men did not stand a chance. In that moment I understood that the word hypnotism may have originated from such hip motion because it was actually hypnotic (Hip – notic)
My fellow safari observer, who was male, was transfixed by the motion too.
“Does that mesmerize?” I asked turning to him.
The answer was obvious; his eyes were fixed on the ‘said’ bottom. He could barely speak and his head motioned in exactly way as the hypnotic bottom. Her motion reminded me of a cobra and how it subtly motioned until its prey was completely dazed and then it would attack. Strangely my fellow safari observer could hardly string a sentence together either. In the meantime, I considered how the application of the sound of jungle drums to would work well accompany the blonde bottom undulation.
“It is really interesting… “ he finally said choking on his words. “I never realised a bottom actually hypnotised,” he said. It is really nice to watch…” he said dreamily.
It was then that the competition increased. A group of hens arrived in the arena dressed as police women. They carried truncheons and handcuffs. The invasion changed the dynamic of the room and the men scattered and were confused. Rather than just focus on the blondes they thought they could go for all of them and work by numbers. That never works and men never really seem to learn that.
As soon as the competition arrived, the animal pattern wearing blondes increased their rate of bottom mesmerisation. The men increased their thrusting but the hens were accosting the thrusting men. It was like the Serengeti crossing. All manner of species were diving into the water and some of them were going to be picked off by the alligators. The men were scattered, there was no group dynamic or strategy. It was carnage. The men were confused which did they go for? Did they accept the easy pickings in terms of hen party versus the prize of the hypnotic bottom owners? The competition was rife. Hen’s versus the cobras. The men could not think because the blood had been dispersed between the two brains and all they could do is thrust their parts. It was genitila testicular war!
Of course, the blondes had a strategy. As soon as the men were distracted, they pulled out the ultimate male-attention attracting card. They danced closely with each other and kissed each other on the cheek. It was at that moment a ‘matrix’-like moment took place. All the men froze, the hens features distorted, they had been out-alpha-femaled… The male attention had shifted and the hens were now desperate. And what happened? It was a fraught moment and the hens had to get the attention back. The hens glanced at each other and to their leader. Someone had to do something and do it quickly. They could not repeat what the blondes were doing so there was one thing for it. The leader of the hens lifted her top and showed off a pair of massive bazookas. Bang! The men did not know where to look. Two brains not enough blood. Two eyes not enough vision. Mental overload took place and the men folded. They reverted to what they knew and all adopted their worst dad dancing. No one was impressed and the blondes left the dance floor.
Later that evening my fellow safari observer and I walked past a number of kebab shops. The stag night were in there stuffing consolidation. The blondes were being escorted to taxis by two very masculine opportunist and the hen night were in a pile outside the bar laughing hysterically. Men were attempting to help them up and legs were flaying.
Moral of the story: if you are a man focus on one woman and go for it. Scattering your mind will scatter your options which will result in your evening ending in chips and kebab.
Moral of the story two – hypnotising the room with the bottom can only be achieved successfully if there is not hen-like competition. Too much bottom mesmerisation results in dad dancing. It is the default for the drunken male.
Moral of the story three – do not dad dance even if your instinct drives you to. Do not thrust your pelvis at your friends to gain attention. I suggest you spot potential bottom mesmerisers early on and make your move before the rest of them room are transfixed by an undulating bottom.
NOTE: My fellow safari observer mentioned something very profound which may well provided insight. When a person is drunk and talks to someone sober, the sober person never understands. Yet when two drunken people talk to each other – they always understand! The language of inebriation seems to be exclusive to those who are wasted.
Saturday night, as with all Saturday nights, is the opportunity to venture into the human alcohol imbued jungle. It is the prime time to watch the mating techniques of numerous inebriated human animals. Large gestures, exaggerated hip motions and puffed out chests are just a few of the techniques used to attract attention. One of the major techniques in Bournemouth is ridiculous fancy dress outfits. When I say fancy dress I do not mean a ‘fancy’ dress as in a nice evening dress. Instead large groups of men (the stag night) can be witness dressed as babies, large items of fruit or super heroes. These are directly proportionate to hen parties who are dressed as policewomen, nurses or pirates. There are obviously variations on these themes but the women wear items that are revealing, a bit rude and are suggestive. In the opposite faction the men dress as fruit. I have not determined the ultimate psychology behind this, but essentially the men go for phallic / heroes. And the women go for ‘have some of this big boy!”
With all the above in mind, Saturday night is the prime opportunity to take part in a human safari. It is dangerous, there are conflicts and there are passing outs in the street. Survival of the fittest is demonstrated by the winning Alpha male escorting the most attractive female in the direction of a taxi. Of course there are those who are unsuccessful in the mating escapades. The women are often found collapsed in piles outside bars with opportunist men attempting to prize them off the pavement. Alternatively you find those who resort to stuffing chips and kebabs in their faces with far too much Chilly sauce as a consolidation prize.
So this brings me to the dance floor. The dance floor is the prime place for demonstration of sexual prowess. With low lights, alcohol and loud music this is the prime place to appear attractive without actually being attractive. The constant flashing of lights and intoxication evolves beyond beer goggles into cocktail glasses! No one has to talk; they just need to demonstrate their sexual prowess by dancing.
In terms of dance, or that which is defined as dance, - the pointing at of genitalia, waving at genitalia or simulating certain motions with your best friend or any passer-by who is not offended by the randy-dog leg grabbing technique appears in abundance. On this particular evening a group of stags, wearing baby attire, were in full testicular swing. Dad dancing extraordinaire was being demonstrated in all directions and genitalia thrusting filled the dance floor. As the evening hotted up, the men attempted to out thrust each other until two blondes arrived on the dance floor. That was when things became interesting and best friends stopped being best friends and survival of the fittest/alpha-malism competition was on!
The two blondes, wearing their best animal patterned dresses, rotated their hips and hypnotised. The men did not stand a chance. In that moment I understood that the word hypnotism may have originated from such hip motion because it was actually hypnotic (Hip – notic)
My fellow safari observer, who was male, was transfixed by the motion too.
“Does that mesmerize?” I asked turning to him.
The answer was obvious; his eyes were fixed on the ‘said’ bottom. He could barely speak and his head motioned in exactly way as the hypnotic bottom. Her motion reminded me of a cobra and how it subtly motioned until its prey was completely dazed and then it would attack. Strangely my fellow safari observer could hardly string a sentence together either. In the meantime, I considered how the application of the sound of jungle drums to would work well accompany the blonde bottom undulation.
“It is really interesting… “ he finally said choking on his words. “I never realised a bottom actually hypnotised,” he said. It is really nice to watch…” he said dreamily.
It was then that the competition increased. A group of hens arrived in the arena dressed as police women. They carried truncheons and handcuffs. The invasion changed the dynamic of the room and the men scattered and were confused. Rather than just focus on the blondes they thought they could go for all of them and work by numbers. That never works and men never really seem to learn that.
As soon as the competition arrived, the animal pattern wearing blondes increased their rate of bottom mesmerisation. The men increased their thrusting but the hens were accosting the thrusting men. It was like the Serengeti crossing. All manner of species were diving into the water and some of them were going to be picked off by the alligators. The men were scattered, there was no group dynamic or strategy. It was carnage. The men were confused which did they go for? Did they accept the easy pickings in terms of hen party versus the prize of the hypnotic bottom owners? The competition was rife. Hen’s versus the cobras. The men could not think because the blood had been dispersed between the two brains and all they could do is thrust their parts. It was genitila testicular war!
Of course, the blondes had a strategy. As soon as the men were distracted, they pulled out the ultimate male-attention attracting card. They danced closely with each other and kissed each other on the cheek. It was at that moment a ‘matrix’-like moment took place. All the men froze, the hens features distorted, they had been out-alpha-femaled… The male attention had shifted and the hens were now desperate. And what happened? It was a fraught moment and the hens had to get the attention back. The hens glanced at each other and to their leader. Someone had to do something and do it quickly. They could not repeat what the blondes were doing so there was one thing for it. The leader of the hens lifted her top and showed off a pair of massive bazookas. Bang! The men did not know where to look. Two brains not enough blood. Two eyes not enough vision. Mental overload took place and the men folded. They reverted to what they knew and all adopted their worst dad dancing. No one was impressed and the blondes left the dance floor.
Later that evening my fellow safari observer and I walked past a number of kebab shops. The stag night were in there stuffing consolidation. The blondes were being escorted to taxis by two very masculine opportunist and the hen night were in a pile outside the bar laughing hysterically. Men were attempting to help them up and legs were flaying.
Moral of the story: if you are a man focus on one woman and go for it. Scattering your mind will scatter your options which will result in your evening ending in chips and kebab.
Moral of the story two – hypnotising the room with the bottom can only be achieved successfully if there is not hen-like competition. Too much bottom mesmerisation results in dad dancing. It is the default for the drunken male.
Moral of the story three – do not dad dance even if your instinct drives you to. Do not thrust your pelvis at your friends to gain attention. I suggest you spot potential bottom mesmerisers early on and make your move before the rest of them room are transfixed by an undulating bottom.
NOTE: My fellow safari observer mentioned something very profound which may well provided insight. When a person is drunk and talks to someone sober, the sober person never understands. Yet when two drunken people talk to each other – they always understand! The language of inebriation seems to be exclusive to those who are wasted.
Friday 15 April 2011
TWO BRAINS - NOT ENOUGH BLOOD AND THE WORLD OF WOMAN THROUGH MALE EYES!
So how often do you receive a phone call asking how obvious you are on a scale of one to ten?
I would guess not very often, well I have just had a call from the mail room asking me that very question. ‘Are you a blonde or a brunette,’ he asked.
‘Neither, I am red,’
‘Ah fiery then… Good I like fiery ones…’he replied.
Apparently I came off the phone looking rather confused and the men in the close vicinity were studying my expression and pointed out that I was blushing.
‘So what is making you pull that face?’ they asked.
‘On the scale of 1-10 how obvious are you?’
For a while there was silence. The general consensus of opinion was that most people in the office were about a five. So why was I nominated an eight?
A few minutes later, our trusty mail man turned up with my book delivery… Yes I have my books delivered to my desk – how luxury is that? In truth I have every delivered to the office because I can’t take the delivery at home.
“Ah a fiery one…” said the mail man.
I shook my head, “I’m not fiery…”
“Is she fiery?” he asked my male colleagues.
Both nodded, “really fiery!”
“I knew it!” he said.
Thanks!
Anyway, whilst rummaging under the desk I heard a chap say ‘boobs,’ under his breath. There was an elongated silence and all the men in the vicinity stopped typing, breathing or making random comments. It was eerie to say the least, so I popped up and looked around. The mesmerised look of a man who had been hypnotised was the only way I could describe the facial expressions of all the men in close proximity. In that moment I was struck by a bolt of inspirational lightening and it was then that I identified ‘the male compulsive blurt. ‘‘Sorry?’
‘Boobs,’ he said with a whisper and a nod in a certain direction. Admittedly there was a pair jiggling past in too looser bra. Two angry ferrets in sacks wrestled and were intent on escape.
I turned to my other male colleague who was smiling and had a similar expression on his face.
‘Busted!’
It was then I was provided with an insight into the male office view. So it seems that whenever any woman walks into the room the men have a tendency to imagine her in the way that nature intended.
“So what every woman who comes into the room - you know… You imagine?”
The pair smiled a very knowing male smile.
“That is a male secret. We have disclosed something very precious to you. You are now an honory bloke!’
Great!
“So what all women?”
“All women except those that are ugly or over sixty,” said the office cheeky.
“Really?”
“Actually all women…”
I studied them both and the pair grinned as a couple of women walked through the office carrying coffee. In that moment, I glimpsed the world through their eyes…
“So what about the blurt? Is it kind of like when you say something before you mind filters it.”
The pair shook their heads.
“That is just women who do that,” came the response.
“Okay then… Can you justify that?”
“Men think before they speak, but the blurt is different. It is a male reflex action that enables other men to know there is potential visual absorption in the area, just in case they miss the display. Look at it kind of like a call. In fact it is a natural tribal instinc - you would not want your friends to miss out on the potential sight.”
“What like when women go to the loo together?”
The men shook their heads, I was obviously a woman and still could not step into the mind of a man – even if I had been privilege to become the honorary bloke.
“So meetings…”
“Let me just say if you walk into a room full of men you are not likely to wow them with intelligence. We are men and we are visual – you should know that!
I glanced at them both and suddenly it all made sense. I call it the two brains not enough blood syndrome. Obviously there is only a certain amount of blood in a man’s body and when any type of twitching occurs in the nether regions, the blood slips from his cerebral cortex to the alternative location for thought.
“This kind of thought only comes with the male appendage. Think of it like the appendage being the hard-wear and the blurt, in terms of boosooka recognition, is the software…”
I sat for a while brooding about how different the male mind is from a woman’s and came up with a few morals of the story.
Moral of the story: To avoid being envisioned naked at work - wear clothes that contain mirrors.
Second moral of the story: If you don’t want that kind of attention move at great speed erratically flapping your arms.
Third moral of the story: If you want that kind of attention do the can-can as you walk into the office. Or maybe possibly shout ‘here I am boys!’ When doing the can-can make sure you have not left your knickers behind!
Oh and before we go any further I have to share my amazing linguistic discovery. After returning to the office after a run at the gym I noticed a general air of doom. It seemed that room had a grey cloud of Friday afternoon boredom descending upon it. And then it hit me they were all suffering from BOREDOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
That little combination will be milked until the literary cow is dry!opportunity. Are you suffering from boredooooom? I feel a bit of boredooooooooooooom coming on! They mystery of the angry hamster and the office of boredooooooooom! Right that is off my chest now. I feel better.
I have had my escape from mundanity! Hooorah!
I would guess not very often, well I have just had a call from the mail room asking me that very question. ‘Are you a blonde or a brunette,’ he asked.
‘Neither, I am red,’
‘Ah fiery then… Good I like fiery ones…’he replied.
Apparently I came off the phone looking rather confused and the men in the close vicinity were studying my expression and pointed out that I was blushing.
‘So what is making you pull that face?’ they asked.
‘On the scale of 1-10 how obvious are you?’
For a while there was silence. The general consensus of opinion was that most people in the office were about a five. So why was I nominated an eight?
A few minutes later, our trusty mail man turned up with my book delivery… Yes I have my books delivered to my desk – how luxury is that? In truth I have every delivered to the office because I can’t take the delivery at home.
“Ah a fiery one…” said the mail man.
I shook my head, “I’m not fiery…”
“Is she fiery?” he asked my male colleagues.
Both nodded, “really fiery!”
“I knew it!” he said.
Thanks!
Anyway, whilst rummaging under the desk I heard a chap say ‘boobs,’ under his breath. There was an elongated silence and all the men in the vicinity stopped typing, breathing or making random comments. It was eerie to say the least, so I popped up and looked around. The mesmerised look of a man who had been hypnotised was the only way I could describe the facial expressions of all the men in close proximity. In that moment I was struck by a bolt of inspirational lightening and it was then that I identified ‘the male compulsive blurt. ‘‘Sorry?’
‘Boobs,’ he said with a whisper and a nod in a certain direction. Admittedly there was a pair jiggling past in too looser bra. Two angry ferrets in sacks wrestled and were intent on escape.
I turned to my other male colleague who was smiling and had a similar expression on his face.
‘Busted!’
It was then I was provided with an insight into the male office view. So it seems that whenever any woman walks into the room the men have a tendency to imagine her in the way that nature intended.
“So what every woman who comes into the room - you know… You imagine?”
The pair smiled a very knowing male smile.
“That is a male secret. We have disclosed something very precious to you. You are now an honory bloke!’
Great!
“So what all women?”
“All women except those that are ugly or over sixty,” said the office cheeky.
“Really?”
“Actually all women…”
I studied them both and the pair grinned as a couple of women walked through the office carrying coffee. In that moment, I glimpsed the world through their eyes…
“So what about the blurt? Is it kind of like when you say something before you mind filters it.”
The pair shook their heads.
“That is just women who do that,” came the response.
“Okay then… Can you justify that?”
“Men think before they speak, but the blurt is different. It is a male reflex action that enables other men to know there is potential visual absorption in the area, just in case they miss the display. Look at it kind of like a call. In fact it is a natural tribal instinc - you would not want your friends to miss out on the potential sight.”
“What like when women go to the loo together?”
The men shook their heads, I was obviously a woman and still could not step into the mind of a man – even if I had been privilege to become the honorary bloke.
“So meetings…”
“Let me just say if you walk into a room full of men you are not likely to wow them with intelligence. We are men and we are visual – you should know that!
I glanced at them both and suddenly it all made sense. I call it the two brains not enough blood syndrome. Obviously there is only a certain amount of blood in a man’s body and when any type of twitching occurs in the nether regions, the blood slips from his cerebral cortex to the alternative location for thought.
“This kind of thought only comes with the male appendage. Think of it like the appendage being the hard-wear and the blurt, in terms of boosooka recognition, is the software…”
I sat for a while brooding about how different the male mind is from a woman’s and came up with a few morals of the story.
Moral of the story: To avoid being envisioned naked at work - wear clothes that contain mirrors.
Second moral of the story: If you don’t want that kind of attention move at great speed erratically flapping your arms.
Third moral of the story: If you want that kind of attention do the can-can as you walk into the office. Or maybe possibly shout ‘here I am boys!’ When doing the can-can make sure you have not left your knickers behind!
Oh and before we go any further I have to share my amazing linguistic discovery. After returning to the office after a run at the gym I noticed a general air of doom. It seemed that room had a grey cloud of Friday afternoon boredom descending upon it. And then it hit me they were all suffering from BOREDOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
That little combination will be milked until the literary cow is dry!opportunity. Are you suffering from boredooooom? I feel a bit of boredooooooooooooom coming on! They mystery of the angry hamster and the office of boredooooooooom! Right that is off my chest now. I feel better.
I have had my escape from mundanity! Hooorah!
FRIDAY BRILLIANCE AND THE ART OF NAKED PROMOTION
If we all live for Friday then surely if we named all days Friday then we could live every day and not just live for the weekend… Sometimes I even astound myself with my own brilliance – how do I share that modestly? Actually there seems to be something wrong with that plan… We would not have a weekend and would just work seven days a week. Okay so I take it back – not quite so brilliant but the thought was there… So what about the endless Saturday? Hmmm… but then how would we afford the weekend if we did not have week days? My goodness I am actually glad for the week days because the weekend is a celebration of not working… Okay I feel better now. Although there should be a bit of daily celebration somewhere within the day… I will think about that…
You know what? I have just decided that celebration should be a necessary part of the day. At a certain point each day it would be lovely to do a little dance to celebrate being alive and the wonders of ‘the self’. Obviously I am not suggesting do the hokey cokey or the Macarena (how does one spell that word?) but a minimalist celebratory dance to remember that we exist and that life is good… Seventies staying alive dancing at the desk is a pure celebratory move. Body popping would be for the office show off and pole dancing for the office strumpet. The office bore would probably do dad dancing and the office little and cute would just do a cute little dance and everyone’s heart would warm. Those pigeons would probably start mating again… (if you are wondering what I am talking about this is in office little and cute posting.)
So today, it is Friday and I am excited… I am always quite excited but this time next week I am off on me holidays… In the meantime, I have team mates making suggestions on how to promote my books. So the general consensus of opinion, from the male contingency, comes down to nudity… Why does it always come down to being naked? They kindly came up with the Demi Moore cross legged pose with my books cleverly positioned. Why do they keep suggesting that I should be naked… Maybe we should have a nudist office… Oh how awful would that be? I suggest looking around the room and imagining that… Of course there would be issues. We would probably get pubes on the photo-copier and then we would have to bring little hankies so as not to make a mess or dirty the office furniture.
Anyway the boys are off on one… “Michelle the fact of the matter is nakedness sells!”
“So how will that sell a children’s book?” I asked.
The men grinned at me and told me that the dad’s would buy it and read it to their children…. They have an answer for everything. Me being me decided to throw a blow-up cat amongst the male pigeons… “So which of you would be willing to do that? You know pose naked with my books? Since we live in a world of equal opportunity....”
The men looked at each other with horror. “No… We were meaning you…”
“Oh really, well as we are all grown-ups and as you told me that nakedness sells – then your nakedness should equally sell.”
I watched three men go pale and almost retch when they glanced at each other and the thought of their hairy bodies being put on a billboard- suddenly it was not so appealing! The men being men then began to nominate the potential totty who would make a good naked poster… Bless them. Fantasy is a major part of their day… So around the office the general question was ‘would you pose naked to promote Michelle’s book?' Interestingly both the office strumpet and the office desperate (for hide the sausage) were very up for it – plus a few older randoms offered their lacking clothes services. So in the world of fantasy we now have a line of office workers posing naked with books arranged over naughty body parts. Since I used to work as a professional photographer I have been nominated to create the ‘imaginary’ image. Now, just to take this a little bit further I set a diary meeting… Title – naked picture for Michelle’s book promotion… At this point fear appeared in the numerous ‘oh I am up for it’ bunch and strangely none of them actually wanted to be photographed. It was all just naked book bravado…
So today it is a case of back to the book promotion drawing board… Oh and of course the men have come up with another naked idea – let’s get me riding a horse with my hair over said naked parts with my books as a bra… Lady book Godiva… What is it with men?
You know what? I have just decided that celebration should be a necessary part of the day. At a certain point each day it would be lovely to do a little dance to celebrate being alive and the wonders of ‘the self’. Obviously I am not suggesting do the hokey cokey or the Macarena (how does one spell that word?) but a minimalist celebratory dance to remember that we exist and that life is good… Seventies staying alive dancing at the desk is a pure celebratory move. Body popping would be for the office show off and pole dancing for the office strumpet. The office bore would probably do dad dancing and the office little and cute would just do a cute little dance and everyone’s heart would warm. Those pigeons would probably start mating again… (if you are wondering what I am talking about this is in office little and cute posting.)
So today, it is Friday and I am excited… I am always quite excited but this time next week I am off on me holidays… In the meantime, I have team mates making suggestions on how to promote my books. So the general consensus of opinion, from the male contingency, comes down to nudity… Why does it always come down to being naked? They kindly came up with the Demi Moore cross legged pose with my books cleverly positioned. Why do they keep suggesting that I should be naked… Maybe we should have a nudist office… Oh how awful would that be? I suggest looking around the room and imagining that… Of course there would be issues. We would probably get pubes on the photo-copier and then we would have to bring little hankies so as not to make a mess or dirty the office furniture.
Anyway the boys are off on one… “Michelle the fact of the matter is nakedness sells!”
“So how will that sell a children’s book?” I asked.
The men grinned at me and told me that the dad’s would buy it and read it to their children…. They have an answer for everything. Me being me decided to throw a blow-up cat amongst the male pigeons… “So which of you would be willing to do that? You know pose naked with my books? Since we live in a world of equal opportunity....”
The men looked at each other with horror. “No… We were meaning you…”
“Oh really, well as we are all grown-ups and as you told me that nakedness sells – then your nakedness should equally sell.”
I watched three men go pale and almost retch when they glanced at each other and the thought of their hairy bodies being put on a billboard- suddenly it was not so appealing! The men being men then began to nominate the potential totty who would make a good naked poster… Bless them. Fantasy is a major part of their day… So around the office the general question was ‘would you pose naked to promote Michelle’s book?' Interestingly both the office strumpet and the office desperate (for hide the sausage) were very up for it – plus a few older randoms offered their lacking clothes services. So in the world of fantasy we now have a line of office workers posing naked with books arranged over naughty body parts. Since I used to work as a professional photographer I have been nominated to create the ‘imaginary’ image. Now, just to take this a little bit further I set a diary meeting… Title – naked picture for Michelle’s book promotion… At this point fear appeared in the numerous ‘oh I am up for it’ bunch and strangely none of them actually wanted to be photographed. It was all just naked book bravado…
So today it is a case of back to the book promotion drawing board… Oh and of course the men have come up with another naked idea – let’s get me riding a horse with my hair over said naked parts with my books as a bra… Lady book Godiva… What is it with men?
Wednesday 13 April 2011
Hanging out for holidays and advancement in the knicker continuum
Hanging out for holidays.
So do you ever get to the point where you have not had any time off for a while and you are desperate for a holiday? I guess that would be most people… I was just thinking about it… As you can imagine I am having the palm tree daydream and I have just realised that it is close to five months since I took a holiday. I know… What am I playing at? The thing is I have been pretty sly and utilised all the coming bank holidays to use the most limited amount of holiday days and maximise the most time off possible… So as of the 22nd I have 17 days in a row using a whole seven days holiday – bliss!
So it is Wednesday and that means Wednesday call of doom! It is the most boring call in the world and the other team members are comfort eating chocolate digestives. Rather than add on the poundage I have wondered off into Michelle land of Laaaaaa and today the land of Laaaaaaa is full of holidays. Amongst the holiday scene a giant pair of knickers has doubled as a hammock! It seems the ’knickers on wheels’ post has raised a few eyebrows in the office and it seems knickers attached to wheels could become the next big thing… Dragging your knickers around the office on the bottom of your chair could be a signal for availability and single-dom. It could be a special mating signal - like those birds waving their giant red warbles about. Although I wouldn’t advise knicker waving from your chin.
Of course the post stimulated numerous knicker-loss horror stories… Of the numerous knickerless adventures, my friend’s knicker elastic evaporation was the worst. It is amazing how knicker elastic can select the most awkward of places to evaporate. While my friend was walking through the main central area within the place she worked that was precisely when the knicker escape began. Numerous business men sat at tables and her knickers slid down to her knees. To combat the issue she walked with a slightly wider stride but that did not help and the said knickers slid to her ankles. In that moment she had a choice – pull them back up or let them go… What would you choose? Whilst looking straight ahead she simply stepped out of the defiant undercarriage protectors and continued walking. What I find amazing is that no one pointed it out. It was as if it was a normal occurrence and a lone pair of knickers made their escape into the central meeting area. For the rest of that afternoon a pair of red, lace knickers remained on a white marble floor. People would not be able to miss them! Of course for the rest of the day she had to be aware that it was windy outside, she was wearing a skirt and could not allow anything to drop on the floor.
This then lead me to my ultimate horror story of loss of the knicker kind. This one also happened to me… In public, with a crowd and a school party!
I went to Cabo St. Lucas- Mexico , to swim the dolphin. My particular dolphin swimming partner was called Osiris. Now as part of the fun you get to hold onto the dolphin and swim. Unfortunately with a dolphin noise she blasted off and so did my bikini bottoms. Unfortunately we were in a pool, with large windows and a school party had just arrived. It was a while before I realised. I was just about to climb out after the rapid ride and I looked down in horror. The penny dropped and suddenly I understood that the dark material floating on the other side of the pool was in fact my nik naks! So after feeling somewhat humiliated by the dolphin, I had to swim back and collect them. The only possible good that could have come from that is that the school party would have had a lesson in female biology and the virtues of investing in pressure-resistant bikini bottoms.
I feel at this point it would be well worth having a moral of the story.
Moral of the story – invest in knickers that stick to you like glue… Actually no invest in anti-falling down knickers. Or alternatively wear two pairs of knickers then if you lose one pair you have a back up. For those who need an extreme contingency - wear three pairs. The should be a really small pair. The second a slightly larger pair and the third – a giant pair of granny knickers…!
Second Moral of the story - time your bikini bottom loss to be at night and away from a pool with windows.
Third moral of the story only go on holiday to nudist beaches and places where loss of knickers is not frowned upon.
From darkness came light and whether you realise it or not there are solutions for all knickery eventualities!
So do you ever get to the point where you have not had any time off for a while and you are desperate for a holiday? I guess that would be most people… I was just thinking about it… As you can imagine I am having the palm tree daydream and I have just realised that it is close to five months since I took a holiday. I know… What am I playing at? The thing is I have been pretty sly and utilised all the coming bank holidays to use the most limited amount of holiday days and maximise the most time off possible… So as of the 22nd I have 17 days in a row using a whole seven days holiday – bliss!
So it is Wednesday and that means Wednesday call of doom! It is the most boring call in the world and the other team members are comfort eating chocolate digestives. Rather than add on the poundage I have wondered off into Michelle land of Laaaaaa and today the land of Laaaaaaa is full of holidays. Amongst the holiday scene a giant pair of knickers has doubled as a hammock! It seems the ’knickers on wheels’ post has raised a few eyebrows in the office and it seems knickers attached to wheels could become the next big thing… Dragging your knickers around the office on the bottom of your chair could be a signal for availability and single-dom. It could be a special mating signal - like those birds waving their giant red warbles about. Although I wouldn’t advise knicker waving from your chin.
Of course the post stimulated numerous knicker-loss horror stories… Of the numerous knickerless adventures, my friend’s knicker elastic evaporation was the worst. It is amazing how knicker elastic can select the most awkward of places to evaporate. While my friend was walking through the main central area within the place she worked that was precisely when the knicker escape began. Numerous business men sat at tables and her knickers slid down to her knees. To combat the issue she walked with a slightly wider stride but that did not help and the said knickers slid to her ankles. In that moment she had a choice – pull them back up or let them go… What would you choose? Whilst looking straight ahead she simply stepped out of the defiant undercarriage protectors and continued walking. What I find amazing is that no one pointed it out. It was as if it was a normal occurrence and a lone pair of knickers made their escape into the central meeting area. For the rest of that afternoon a pair of red, lace knickers remained on a white marble floor. People would not be able to miss them! Of course for the rest of the day she had to be aware that it was windy outside, she was wearing a skirt and could not allow anything to drop on the floor.
This then lead me to my ultimate horror story of loss of the knicker kind. This one also happened to me… In public, with a crowd and a school party!
I went to Cabo St. Lucas- Mexico , to swim the dolphin. My particular dolphin swimming partner was called Osiris. Now as part of the fun you get to hold onto the dolphin and swim. Unfortunately with a dolphin noise she blasted off and so did my bikini bottoms. Unfortunately we were in a pool, with large windows and a school party had just arrived. It was a while before I realised. I was just about to climb out after the rapid ride and I looked down in horror. The penny dropped and suddenly I understood that the dark material floating on the other side of the pool was in fact my nik naks! So after feeling somewhat humiliated by the dolphin, I had to swim back and collect them. The only possible good that could have come from that is that the school party would have had a lesson in female biology and the virtues of investing in pressure-resistant bikini bottoms.
I feel at this point it would be well worth having a moral of the story.
Moral of the story – invest in knickers that stick to you like glue… Actually no invest in anti-falling down knickers. Or alternatively wear two pairs of knickers then if you lose one pair you have a back up. For those who need an extreme contingency - wear three pairs. The should be a really small pair. The second a slightly larger pair and the third – a giant pair of granny knickers…!
Second Moral of the story - time your bikini bottom loss to be at night and away from a pool with windows.
Third moral of the story only go on holiday to nudist beaches and places where loss of knickers is not frowned upon.
From darkness came light and whether you realise it or not there are solutions for all knickery eventualities!
Tuesday 12 April 2011
THE THRESHOLD OF BOREDOM & KNICKERS ON WHEELS!
The threshold of boredom and knickers on wheels.
Boredom… As my dad once said - boring people get bored. I would like to dispute this. Today I feel like a child who wants to go out and play. Outside the office there is bright sunshine and world that is full of potential. In the opposite camp I am sitting at my desk contemplating boredom. I feel like the child who has to do its homework before it gets to hang out with friends.
To alleviate a bit of boredom, I accidentally sent my colleague down to the shop with a vending card with not enough money to buy a coffee. It wasn’t intentional but she has just lined up to get to the front of the queue only to discover my lack of funds on the card and her lack of funds on her own card… A choice had to be made and humiliation ensued… This action generated a story and that story broke the ‘metrics’ tedium.
With boredom alleviation in mind I think I will share ‘my little incident.’ It began like this – each lunch hour I go to the gym. Not really for fitness purposes but it is an excuse to get out of the office and sweat. You can’t sweat in the office because it is frowned up… Obviously going to the gym involves bringing in a change of clothes… Well being desperate to get on with my work I put my bag down and threw myself into the world of metrics. A little later I was scooting between desks on my chair. At this point a colleague frowned at the floor and pointed.
‘Are those knickers?’
Everyone on the bank of desks stood up to witness a black lacy pair of knickers attached to the wheel of my chair. Imagine if they had been granny knickers or apple carriers. Anyway, the harsh reality was that I had been driving my knickers around the office. Some of the guys pointed out they had noticed it earlier but they wanted to see how long it would take me to notice. Potentially I could have driven around for days… Even worse -my knickers on wheels could have been a permanent fixture in the office. I may have started a knickers on wheels trend!
Moral of the story: don’t change your knickers after the gym. Invest in disposable knickers or deny that the knickers are yours… Now that would have been weird…
Right back to work… I have had my boredom alleviation….
Boredom… As my dad once said - boring people get bored. I would like to dispute this. Today I feel like a child who wants to go out and play. Outside the office there is bright sunshine and world that is full of potential. In the opposite camp I am sitting at my desk contemplating boredom. I feel like the child who has to do its homework before it gets to hang out with friends.
To alleviate a bit of boredom, I accidentally sent my colleague down to the shop with a vending card with not enough money to buy a coffee. It wasn’t intentional but she has just lined up to get to the front of the queue only to discover my lack of funds on the card and her lack of funds on her own card… A choice had to be made and humiliation ensued… This action generated a story and that story broke the ‘metrics’ tedium.
With boredom alleviation in mind I think I will share ‘my little incident.’ It began like this – each lunch hour I go to the gym. Not really for fitness purposes but it is an excuse to get out of the office and sweat. You can’t sweat in the office because it is frowned up… Obviously going to the gym involves bringing in a change of clothes… Well being desperate to get on with my work I put my bag down and threw myself into the world of metrics. A little later I was scooting between desks on my chair. At this point a colleague frowned at the floor and pointed.
‘Are those knickers?’
Everyone on the bank of desks stood up to witness a black lacy pair of knickers attached to the wheel of my chair. Imagine if they had been granny knickers or apple carriers. Anyway, the harsh reality was that I had been driving my knickers around the office. Some of the guys pointed out they had noticed it earlier but they wanted to see how long it would take me to notice. Potentially I could have driven around for days… Even worse -my knickers on wheels could have been a permanent fixture in the office. I may have started a knickers on wheels trend!
Moral of the story: don’t change your knickers after the gym. Invest in disposable knickers or deny that the knickers are yours… Now that would have been weird…
Right back to work… I have had my boredom alleviation….
Monday 11 April 2011
Gossiptorial locations around the office.
Gossiptorial locations about the office and gossip spotting.
Today is another international conference call of doom. This is my prime opportunity to glance about the room and consider the intricacies of office life…
Today I have the feeling that gossip seems to be my focus. Thinking about it… There is always at least one gossip, two supporters and numerous others who are interested in other people’s lives and stories. It is like watching planets come into alignment and gravity pulls the gossiptorial group together. Such activity is what gives the office gossip her status and value. She alleviates the tedium and the dull repetition of the office grind.
In terms of gossip, there has to be specific locations for gossip other than instant messaging… These are the communal hubs where people have the opportunity to congregate and appear to be working. It seems that the various locations provide different levels of gossip potential depending on location and privacy… It is kind of like a gossip gathering… In my personal study and investigation I have come up with the following:
The photocopier…
The photocopier is the prime area to catch up on the general happenings. There is not too much actual gossip on the surface but people do have a tendency to reveal how they feel about others and tell you what is going on in their lives. Although, when the paper gets jammed it seems that while people perform the gynaecological operation on the machine, something stimulates them to share actual gossip. I believe that something must happen when the person is bent over and rummaging about the copier’s innards. My assumption is that there is a rush of blood to the head which results in the gossip release… In terms of photocopier disclosure – the collation of actual paper or paper shuffling will disclose the potential for a full confession. The speed and action of the paper shuffle is directly proportionate to what is about to be released. If you notice an increased rate of paper shuffle I suggest you find something to photocopy and get to that machine pretty quickly.
By sitting close to the copier I have learned about bunion removals… Births and birthing techniques. At other times I have been provided with numerous strategies for pulling… The photocopier is not the prime area for full reveals unless there is a massive paper shuffle, but the photocopier provides an entertaining place to catch up and gain insight into other people’s lives.
The lift.
As soon as those lift door shut – that is it! It is as if someone has shot the starters’ gun on the Olympic 100m race. For those who work on the higher floors there is potential for at least three floors of comprehensive gossip off-load. The lift is the prime area for power talking. This is stimulated by the fear that someone will join the lift mid-flow. Have you noticed that other people always enter the lift at the most juicy part of the conversation and it has to be continued in the loo?
The water cooler and /or coffee machine.
The locations of the water coolers vary but those that are in remote places are a hub for office chat. The bigger the bottle you take with you the longer you can chat. Although bringing a ten litre container to the work may indeed reveal a very obvious intention. The answer is to bring ten one bottles and confess that you get very very thirsty. The only problem is that the more water you drink the more time you spend in the loo – which again is another prime location for chat.
Lavatorial gossip.
This is the prime place. I have watched people check every cubicle to make sure that there are not ears a wiggin'. Once clear that is where the gossip off-load takes place. Did you hear… My God so and so… It is amazing. Sometimes people are not so careful in the cubicle check and I have been witness to the beginnings of an office mutiny. After one girl had been crying in the loo her colleague stamped her foot and made a plan for a mass resignation of the whole team. Within the month nine people left a team of ten… I am not saying spend your day on the loo if you are nosy but every so often lurking in the loo can give you an insight into the realities of what is taking place on the bank of desks near by….
The kitchen or communal area…
A little bit too obvious but often people talk in code in this location. I have noticed the office gossip checks this area on a regular basis and follows certain people into the area to see what juicy bits she can catch up on to plan her extraction strategy by mentioning that she already knows something from someone else.
The canteen.
Anywhere that people can form queues and fold their arms will produce gossip. The longer the queue, the more potential for gossip. Obviously sitting down at the table provides the potential for social interaction. Sitting down at a table beside a pair that are already gossiping provides potential for gossip absorption…
The cakes desk of disclosure.
When cakes are brought in or any type of share food – they seem to stimulate conversation. If someone is leaving it seems that people who have never actually talked to them before circle the area take some food and then feel it is perfect to delve into the intricacies of that person’s life. What’s more, when a person leaves everyone always seems stunned, curious and asks why.
When a temp leaves, even if they have not been talked to by the majority of the permanent staff, they still eat their cakes, ask them about their personal history and act like they are their best friend. This is all in order to get a cake. Of course the temp is going to go to London and become an international star, live an extra ordinary life and become a millionaire! In conclusion cake seems to be a gossip catalyst. By eating cake there is a whole load of disclosure… Maybe in comfort food we make our confessions…
Smoker’s hut.
This is the area where those who inhale bonfire disclose most information. I have never been privy to this; however, one of my friends began smoking so she could find out various information… It seemed that the smokers had a specialist knowledge and a network that involved inhalation, fire and disclosure.
The bus
Travelling to and from work is the prime area to catch up. I have noticed an array of office gossips who sit on the bus absorbing everything they can from those in the vicinity. For some reason people do not think they can be heard talking on a bus. The truth is everyone can hear. It is just that they appear to be listening to music but that is just a decoy… They are listening, absorbing and forming an opinion about everything that is being said!
The thing is all of the above is actually fascinating; however, being privy to gossip observation – I have noticed the Chinese whisper phenomenon. It amazes me how stories get exaggerated over time and gossip becomes malicious. I have even known someone who was gossiping over the e-mail to be picked up on her gossip. Her mails were used as evidence of bullying and she was actually fired… As much as gossip can be humorous – it is also someone’s life.
Alternatives make up gossip about an imaginary person / or imaginary friend. Or gossip about yourself in third person… Brilliant!
Okay I have to be involved in the call now – but a little mental wander gave me the escape I needed from mundanity!
Today is another international conference call of doom. This is my prime opportunity to glance about the room and consider the intricacies of office life…
Today I have the feeling that gossip seems to be my focus. Thinking about it… There is always at least one gossip, two supporters and numerous others who are interested in other people’s lives and stories. It is like watching planets come into alignment and gravity pulls the gossiptorial group together. Such activity is what gives the office gossip her status and value. She alleviates the tedium and the dull repetition of the office grind.
In terms of gossip, there has to be specific locations for gossip other than instant messaging… These are the communal hubs where people have the opportunity to congregate and appear to be working. It seems that the various locations provide different levels of gossip potential depending on location and privacy… It is kind of like a gossip gathering… In my personal study and investigation I have come up with the following:
The photocopier…
The photocopier is the prime area to catch up on the general happenings. There is not too much actual gossip on the surface but people do have a tendency to reveal how they feel about others and tell you what is going on in their lives. Although, when the paper gets jammed it seems that while people perform the gynaecological operation on the machine, something stimulates them to share actual gossip. I believe that something must happen when the person is bent over and rummaging about the copier’s innards. My assumption is that there is a rush of blood to the head which results in the gossip release… In terms of photocopier disclosure – the collation of actual paper or paper shuffling will disclose the potential for a full confession. The speed and action of the paper shuffle is directly proportionate to what is about to be released. If you notice an increased rate of paper shuffle I suggest you find something to photocopy and get to that machine pretty quickly.
By sitting close to the copier I have learned about bunion removals… Births and birthing techniques. At other times I have been provided with numerous strategies for pulling… The photocopier is not the prime area for full reveals unless there is a massive paper shuffle, but the photocopier provides an entertaining place to catch up and gain insight into other people’s lives.
The lift.
As soon as those lift door shut – that is it! It is as if someone has shot the starters’ gun on the Olympic 100m race. For those who work on the higher floors there is potential for at least three floors of comprehensive gossip off-load. The lift is the prime area for power talking. This is stimulated by the fear that someone will join the lift mid-flow. Have you noticed that other people always enter the lift at the most juicy part of the conversation and it has to be continued in the loo?
The water cooler and /or coffee machine.
The locations of the water coolers vary but those that are in remote places are a hub for office chat. The bigger the bottle you take with you the longer you can chat. Although bringing a ten litre container to the work may indeed reveal a very obvious intention. The answer is to bring ten one bottles and confess that you get very very thirsty. The only problem is that the more water you drink the more time you spend in the loo – which again is another prime location for chat.
Lavatorial gossip.
This is the prime place. I have watched people check every cubicle to make sure that there are not ears a wiggin'. Once clear that is where the gossip off-load takes place. Did you hear… My God so and so… It is amazing. Sometimes people are not so careful in the cubicle check and I have been witness to the beginnings of an office mutiny. After one girl had been crying in the loo her colleague stamped her foot and made a plan for a mass resignation of the whole team. Within the month nine people left a team of ten… I am not saying spend your day on the loo if you are nosy but every so often lurking in the loo can give you an insight into the realities of what is taking place on the bank of desks near by….
The kitchen or communal area…
A little bit too obvious but often people talk in code in this location. I have noticed the office gossip checks this area on a regular basis and follows certain people into the area to see what juicy bits she can catch up on to plan her extraction strategy by mentioning that she already knows something from someone else.
The canteen.
Anywhere that people can form queues and fold their arms will produce gossip. The longer the queue, the more potential for gossip. Obviously sitting down at the table provides the potential for social interaction. Sitting down at a table beside a pair that are already gossiping provides potential for gossip absorption…
The cakes desk of disclosure.
When cakes are brought in or any type of share food – they seem to stimulate conversation. If someone is leaving it seems that people who have never actually talked to them before circle the area take some food and then feel it is perfect to delve into the intricacies of that person’s life. What’s more, when a person leaves everyone always seems stunned, curious and asks why.
When a temp leaves, even if they have not been talked to by the majority of the permanent staff, they still eat their cakes, ask them about their personal history and act like they are their best friend. This is all in order to get a cake. Of course the temp is going to go to London and become an international star, live an extra ordinary life and become a millionaire! In conclusion cake seems to be a gossip catalyst. By eating cake there is a whole load of disclosure… Maybe in comfort food we make our confessions…
Smoker’s hut.
This is the area where those who inhale bonfire disclose most information. I have never been privy to this; however, one of my friends began smoking so she could find out various information… It seemed that the smokers had a specialist knowledge and a network that involved inhalation, fire and disclosure.
The bus
Travelling to and from work is the prime area to catch up. I have noticed an array of office gossips who sit on the bus absorbing everything they can from those in the vicinity. For some reason people do not think they can be heard talking on a bus. The truth is everyone can hear. It is just that they appear to be listening to music but that is just a decoy… They are listening, absorbing and forming an opinion about everything that is being said!
The thing is all of the above is actually fascinating; however, being privy to gossip observation – I have noticed the Chinese whisper phenomenon. It amazes me how stories get exaggerated over time and gossip becomes malicious. I have even known someone who was gossiping over the e-mail to be picked up on her gossip. Her mails were used as evidence of bullying and she was actually fired… As much as gossip can be humorous – it is also someone’s life.
Alternatives make up gossip about an imaginary person / or imaginary friend. Or gossip about yourself in third person… Brilliant!
Okay I have to be involved in the call now – but a little mental wander gave me the escape I needed from mundanity!
MONDAY MORNING TYPING & GOSSIP
Monday morning, loud typing and the truth about gossip.
Arrival in the office on a Monday morning reveals an air of silence, intense concentration and everyone has a look on their face which suggests that someone has dropped a stink bomb. They focus on their screens and appear to be hard at work. To the untrained eye everything appears innocent because on each screen there is something important that they are ‘supposed to ’ work on. What’s more, there is frantic typing echoing in all directions. Do not be fooled by this scene. The truth is everyone is gossiping. YES… What happened at the weekend and who snogged who or got rejected by who.
With the support of a cup of black coffee, gossip is spreading. Instant messenger, e-mail and all other forms of electronic communication were simply developed for the pure purpose to gossip without people hearing you. Yes it is true. The sound of typing suggests work and the more frantic the typing the more hard working you appear to be. Of course what they don’t know is how comments about the size of people’s bottoms in certain clothing… Who did what to who are flying through the digital airways under the guise of hard work!
What’s more, the men are commenting on the office strumpet’s gravity-defying boosaka bra or the office hotty failed wooooing endeavours. There are reports of numerous young bucks attempting to wow the office hotty with drunken smooth moves resembling dad dancing combined with a bucking bull. Of course there was the struggle for alpha-malism with the standard puffed out chests, bonky moves and bottom caressing - all fuelled by ten pints of beer.
Monday morning is prime time for the vulturous office gossip to circle the room. Those who type most frantically reveal their potential. Watch the gossip hone in, arrange her arms under her breasts and go and sit on the desk. ‘So did you get up to anything good over the weekend?’ May be her opening line… In the meantime, warning goes out amongst the others who have sussed out her antics and each swear to keep what they have learned to themselves. The office gossip has techniques… Something in her aura sucks gossip from your very being and no matter how much you purposely resist you will admit that you accidentally snogged the office stinker and were found with your head down the loo 3o minutes later through complete anebriation. That is just how it is and within twenty minutes the whole room will know…
Monday mornings – a social gossip phenomenon!
Arrival in the office on a Monday morning reveals an air of silence, intense concentration and everyone has a look on their face which suggests that someone has dropped a stink bomb. They focus on their screens and appear to be hard at work. To the untrained eye everything appears innocent because on each screen there is something important that they are ‘supposed to ’ work on. What’s more, there is frantic typing echoing in all directions. Do not be fooled by this scene. The truth is everyone is gossiping. YES… What happened at the weekend and who snogged who or got rejected by who.
With the support of a cup of black coffee, gossip is spreading. Instant messenger, e-mail and all other forms of electronic communication were simply developed for the pure purpose to gossip without people hearing you. Yes it is true. The sound of typing suggests work and the more frantic the typing the more hard working you appear to be. Of course what they don’t know is how comments about the size of people’s bottoms in certain clothing… Who did what to who are flying through the digital airways under the guise of hard work!
What’s more, the men are commenting on the office strumpet’s gravity-defying boosaka bra or the office hotty failed wooooing endeavours. There are reports of numerous young bucks attempting to wow the office hotty with drunken smooth moves resembling dad dancing combined with a bucking bull. Of course there was the struggle for alpha-malism with the standard puffed out chests, bonky moves and bottom caressing - all fuelled by ten pints of beer.
Monday morning is prime time for the vulturous office gossip to circle the room. Those who type most frantically reveal their potential. Watch the gossip hone in, arrange her arms under her breasts and go and sit on the desk. ‘So did you get up to anything good over the weekend?’ May be her opening line… In the meantime, warning goes out amongst the others who have sussed out her antics and each swear to keep what they have learned to themselves. The office gossip has techniques… Something in her aura sucks gossip from your very being and no matter how much you purposely resist you will admit that you accidentally snogged the office stinker and were found with your head down the loo 3o minutes later through complete anebriation. That is just how it is and within twenty minutes the whole room will know…
Monday mornings – a social gossip phenomenon!
Saturday 9 April 2011
WRESTLING LADIES OF THE NIGHT...
Ladies of the night wrestling in the street in the evening!
Sharing a little personal history is not a bad thing is it? Well… I have recently moved into a beautiful attic flat in Boscombe. I signed the lease, handed over the cash and then… The life of glamour began. It turns out that there is a brothel directly opposite and tonight we have a battle taking place between two pro’s who are calling each other dirty using F words and expletives. Oh goodness how funny, one has called the other a tart but with slighty harsher language. The accusation back is that the other is a whore… Wow! So is calling what someone is actually offensive? Oh you banker! Ohhhhh you teacher! I will offend you by naming your profession!
So it all kicked off when one of the women aparently took the others’ business. That was the beginnings of world whore 1! Sorry my humour… Anyone got a tumble weed? Well the whore accusations have led to all the neighbours leaning out of the windows to see what is going on and that includes me. What’s more, the resident drunk has even crossed the road with a zig zag motion. He hasn’t quite made it yet, but the intention is there… I think he is crossing the road, he is trying but he keep falling backwards… Oh there he goes again… Nope stumbling back again… I am now willing him to make it… Ah nope. He has given up and is leaning against the wall preparing to take his run up.
I know that many people would not find such behaviour interesting but when two ladies of the night begin wrestling in the street, one quickly realises that not only is life unfolding before you but literary material is just ripe for the picking… The angry pro is screaming at the other one that she is filthy and horrible… Hmm… And lucky me gets to witness this from safety of my attic…
The other night someone did not pay the ‘said’ ladies and all hell broke loose at four in the morning… Demanding money for certain favours from a man who is drunk and has no cash is a no win situation. The solution – the woman involved threatened to call the police… How does that work? So… let me get this straight… The lady has broken the law by servicing the man and she is threatening to have him arrested for not paying for something that is against the law? Personally it is beyond me but who am I to understand such things?
Well it all fun and games here… With all this taking place I still love my flat and my view of the world. It amazes me how gritty reality takes place on the street below… I can pull my chair up to the window and sit and watch. I have no need for a television when the street drama unfolds on a nightly basis… Sometimes friends come round to watch too. We sit up in the window amazed by the variety of people wandering past... We come up with our own stories as to what actually lead them to that moment…
The ladies of the night have both found punters so they are now best friends again. See how easily these things can be resolved? Oops no they are not it has just kicked off again… Aparently one is cherry picking… Ah and now the police have turned up…
With all that is taking place I just find it amazing that we are all people interacting within life. We all have very different maps of life experience and that make us who we are… I do wonder about those women… As much as they are interesting and their angry wrestling has drawn attention to them, a series of events and choices have lead them to that moment… That is what fascinates me…
Oh god the walker of the invisible dog has just turned up to spice things up. Scampi, the non-existent dog is annoying him because he keeps running off!
Thank you Boscombe for another little escape from mundanity… Okay then back to editing the resonance will be finished – one day…
Sharing a little personal history is not a bad thing is it? Well… I have recently moved into a beautiful attic flat in Boscombe. I signed the lease, handed over the cash and then… The life of glamour began. It turns out that there is a brothel directly opposite and tonight we have a battle taking place between two pro’s who are calling each other dirty using F words and expletives. Oh goodness how funny, one has called the other a tart but with slighty harsher language. The accusation back is that the other is a whore… Wow! So is calling what someone is actually offensive? Oh you banker! Ohhhhh you teacher! I will offend you by naming your profession!
So it all kicked off when one of the women aparently took the others’ business. That was the beginnings of world whore 1! Sorry my humour… Anyone got a tumble weed? Well the whore accusations have led to all the neighbours leaning out of the windows to see what is going on and that includes me. What’s more, the resident drunk has even crossed the road with a zig zag motion. He hasn’t quite made it yet, but the intention is there… I think he is crossing the road, he is trying but he keep falling backwards… Oh there he goes again… Nope stumbling back again… I am now willing him to make it… Ah nope. He has given up and is leaning against the wall preparing to take his run up.
I know that many people would not find such behaviour interesting but when two ladies of the night begin wrestling in the street, one quickly realises that not only is life unfolding before you but literary material is just ripe for the picking… The angry pro is screaming at the other one that she is filthy and horrible… Hmm… And lucky me gets to witness this from safety of my attic…
The other night someone did not pay the ‘said’ ladies and all hell broke loose at four in the morning… Demanding money for certain favours from a man who is drunk and has no cash is a no win situation. The solution – the woman involved threatened to call the police… How does that work? So… let me get this straight… The lady has broken the law by servicing the man and she is threatening to have him arrested for not paying for something that is against the law? Personally it is beyond me but who am I to understand such things?
Well it all fun and games here… With all this taking place I still love my flat and my view of the world. It amazes me how gritty reality takes place on the street below… I can pull my chair up to the window and sit and watch. I have no need for a television when the street drama unfolds on a nightly basis… Sometimes friends come round to watch too. We sit up in the window amazed by the variety of people wandering past... We come up with our own stories as to what actually lead them to that moment…
The ladies of the night have both found punters so they are now best friends again. See how easily these things can be resolved? Oops no they are not it has just kicked off again… Aparently one is cherry picking… Ah and now the police have turned up…
With all that is taking place I just find it amazing that we are all people interacting within life. We all have very different maps of life experience and that make us who we are… I do wonder about those women… As much as they are interesting and their angry wrestling has drawn attention to them, a series of events and choices have lead them to that moment… That is what fascinates me…
Oh god the walker of the invisible dog has just turned up to spice things up. Scampi, the non-existent dog is annoying him because he keeps running off!
Thank you Boscombe for another little escape from mundanity… Okay then back to editing the resonance will be finished – one day…
IN THE JAWS OF A FRIENDLY PITBULL!
Evening escapades…
Well as we know I am currently working on the Resonance but thanks to the world of technology and my net book I can take a stroll down to the pier, edit, people watch and eat a sausage. There is a diner on Boscombe pier, which sells rather tasty long sausages… I just walked up to the counter and the chap smiled at me… ‘I remember you – you’re the solitary sausage eater.’
What does that mean? That I am solitary or that I ate a lonely sausage… If so… I apologise now – I did not realise the sausage had emotions… Gosh – guilt trip! The thing is I have not had one of those solitary sausages for dinner for eight months so why have my sausage eating habits made such an impression on the man? I certainly hadn’t eaten one of his products near him, so there was no witnessing of the masticatory act.
‘Baps,’ he said.
What did he mean baps?
‘You don’t eat them with baps. You eat the sausage by itself. That is why I remember you. Dogs usually do that.’
Is it me, or was that not so complimentary? Therefore, not only had he remembered my sausage eating habits but also he now had likened them to a dog…. Can it get any better?
‘When I say dogs – the dog owners buy the solitary sausage for their dogs.’
I wonder if that makes them sausage dogs…
I just had one of ‘those’ thoughts – I just saw a French poodle and wondered if dogs have accents or bark in different languages… I wonder how a Chinese dog sounds in comparison to a Peruvian.
Well after such stimulating insight into dog owner’s habits, I have taken a seat on the pier deck. The beach has numerous sunshine loving opportunists who have made the dash down here after work too. To my right the world of chav is manifesting and multiplying as they do. Each carries a beer can, wears a tracksuit and is already spawning a child without even trying. To my left families wipe sand from children, attempt to control their children or simply shout at them… That is what happens when the sun shines in Beautiful Boscombe!
Boscombe pier is a place that is a hub of human zoological display. We have numerous runners, posers, drinkers, randomers and dog walkers all amalgamated into one specific area – next to the surf reef which is the kings new clothes of surfing. Oooh hang on I think I have just spotted boy totty with tight botty… oh typical – girlfriend trailing along behind pretending that she loves doing the 10k run when in actual fact she could better focus her energies on power shopping…
Oh I do love it here. Boscombe pier is just a walk down the hill from my flat and is a place that inspires… I do love Boscombe even though it is considered the grittiest part of Bournemouth… Where else can you people spot, be remembered for your sausage eating habits and where else can people shout the word relax in an aggressive tone? Where else can weirdo scream expletives at their non-existent dogs named Scampi? I am a lucky woman to live here…. There is so much to inspire my writing including the plastic orange sprayed women and the men with stupid haircuts…There are people on tandem bikes, drunken teenagers chasing each other and a dog owner trying to stop his pit-bull terrier from eating a King Charles Spaniel. He was trying to justify it by saying ’she is just very friendly,’ whilst prizing the small dog’s head from its mouth… Maybe he should have bought his dog a solitary sausage…. Maybe that sausage could actually save the world from all its ills.
The reality of this place is simply brilliant!
Right I have just been kicked off the pier… Apparently it is closing time.
Unfortunately my sausage reflection has had the chop and the chap next me is using glasses to drum the most annoying tune. It isn’t even a tune, more of an aggravating ensemble of noise… See… Where else can you get that? Actually, I think I am going to go back to editing… The resonance is in progress and I want to finish it so that I can read it in book form…
Woops… Maybe not, I have just seen one of my male friends in his van – I think the reality is more likely to be - visit the pub, discuss life, watch more people and just be ‘normal’. Ha! Then I will do some more editing… Just a little bit…
Well as we know I am currently working on the Resonance but thanks to the world of technology and my net book I can take a stroll down to the pier, edit, people watch and eat a sausage. There is a diner on Boscombe pier, which sells rather tasty long sausages… I just walked up to the counter and the chap smiled at me… ‘I remember you – you’re the solitary sausage eater.’
What does that mean? That I am solitary or that I ate a lonely sausage… If so… I apologise now – I did not realise the sausage had emotions… Gosh – guilt trip! The thing is I have not had one of those solitary sausages for dinner for eight months so why have my sausage eating habits made such an impression on the man? I certainly hadn’t eaten one of his products near him, so there was no witnessing of the masticatory act.
‘Baps,’ he said.
What did he mean baps?
‘You don’t eat them with baps. You eat the sausage by itself. That is why I remember you. Dogs usually do that.’
Is it me, or was that not so complimentary? Therefore, not only had he remembered my sausage eating habits but also he now had likened them to a dog…. Can it get any better?
‘When I say dogs – the dog owners buy the solitary sausage for their dogs.’
I wonder if that makes them sausage dogs…
I just had one of ‘those’ thoughts – I just saw a French poodle and wondered if dogs have accents or bark in different languages… I wonder how a Chinese dog sounds in comparison to a Peruvian.
Well after such stimulating insight into dog owner’s habits, I have taken a seat on the pier deck. The beach has numerous sunshine loving opportunists who have made the dash down here after work too. To my right the world of chav is manifesting and multiplying as they do. Each carries a beer can, wears a tracksuit and is already spawning a child without even trying. To my left families wipe sand from children, attempt to control their children or simply shout at them… That is what happens when the sun shines in Beautiful Boscombe!
Boscombe pier is a place that is a hub of human zoological display. We have numerous runners, posers, drinkers, randomers and dog walkers all amalgamated into one specific area – next to the surf reef which is the kings new clothes of surfing. Oooh hang on I think I have just spotted boy totty with tight botty… oh typical – girlfriend trailing along behind pretending that she loves doing the 10k run when in actual fact she could better focus her energies on power shopping…
Oh I do love it here. Boscombe pier is just a walk down the hill from my flat and is a place that inspires… I do love Boscombe even though it is considered the grittiest part of Bournemouth… Where else can you people spot, be remembered for your sausage eating habits and where else can people shout the word relax in an aggressive tone? Where else can weirdo scream expletives at their non-existent dogs named Scampi? I am a lucky woman to live here…. There is so much to inspire my writing including the plastic orange sprayed women and the men with stupid haircuts…There are people on tandem bikes, drunken teenagers chasing each other and a dog owner trying to stop his pit-bull terrier from eating a King Charles Spaniel. He was trying to justify it by saying ’she is just very friendly,’ whilst prizing the small dog’s head from its mouth… Maybe he should have bought his dog a solitary sausage…. Maybe that sausage could actually save the world from all its ills.
The reality of this place is simply brilliant!
Right I have just been kicked off the pier… Apparently it is closing time.
Unfortunately my sausage reflection has had the chop and the chap next me is using glasses to drum the most annoying tune. It isn’t even a tune, more of an aggravating ensemble of noise… See… Where else can you get that? Actually, I think I am going to go back to editing… The resonance is in progress and I want to finish it so that I can read it in book form…
Woops… Maybe not, I have just seen one of my male friends in his van – I think the reality is more likely to be - visit the pub, discuss life, watch more people and just be ‘normal’. Ha! Then I will do some more editing… Just a little bit…
Friday 8 April 2011
Gratitude and the lovely loo roll!
Gratitude and the art of random things…
On the walk to work today I was thinking about the things that I am grateful for but take for granted.
So my first gratitude went in the direction of ear plugs… I would like to give the person who created the silicone earplug a big cuddle… Sleep is paramount and living next to a busy road with angry ladies of the night (the ladies of the night insight is due to be posted over the weekend… Along with sausage dogs…)
Then in my half-awake state I began to think about toilet paper… How many people feel joy at the amazing invention of toilet paper…? A comfort that comforts! Imagine the world without toilet paper. There would be no fluffy puppies wrapped in loo roll appearing on adverts… There would be no satisfied feeling that comes about when you visit your mum who has quilted toilet paper. Pure luxury!
Anyway I delved a bit deeper into the world of loo roll because I wanted to find out when it was actually invented and here are a few of the things I found out about it.
Previous wipery came in the form of grass, fur, leaves, mussel shells and corn on the cob (without the corn). Apparently stones and pieces of clay were the Greek solution and the Romans evolved their system into using a stick with a sponge. They dipped the said stick into a jug filled with salty water….
Actual toilet paper originated in China. Emperors ordered it in large sheets – maybe the emperor’s bottom was larger than the average posterior… Who knows? The first actual loo paper arrived on the market around 1857 and was a flat sheet with Aloe Vera. Oh and in 1935 Splinter free loo roll emerged onto the market… Amazing! SPLINTER FREE – HOORAH! Good old Great Britain originated the two ply in 1942.
Now of all the things I have learned, what shocked me the most, was that there was shortages of loo roll in the U.S in 1973. How can a government justify that? Imagine the speech. ‘We are making toilet paper cuts and we are going to ration toilet paper. This is in the best interest of the nation. Please comply…’
With all the above in mind – how glad are you that loo roll exists now?
After the loo roll meanderings I crossed the park and realised how grateful I am to dogs… Yes dogs – They definitely cheer me up. I love watching their little legs as they get a huge amount of pleasure chasing the ball. Although what gives me more pleasure, and this is naughty, is when the owner throws the ball and the dog looks disinterested. The owner then has to fetch the ball themselves. I think those dogs know what they are doing… And I love it!
Back to the desk for some office insights… And some more ways to mentally escape mundanity….
On the walk to work today I was thinking about the things that I am grateful for but take for granted.
So my first gratitude went in the direction of ear plugs… I would like to give the person who created the silicone earplug a big cuddle… Sleep is paramount and living next to a busy road with angry ladies of the night (the ladies of the night insight is due to be posted over the weekend… Along with sausage dogs…)
Then in my half-awake state I began to think about toilet paper… How many people feel joy at the amazing invention of toilet paper…? A comfort that comforts! Imagine the world without toilet paper. There would be no fluffy puppies wrapped in loo roll appearing on adverts… There would be no satisfied feeling that comes about when you visit your mum who has quilted toilet paper. Pure luxury!
Anyway I delved a bit deeper into the world of loo roll because I wanted to find out when it was actually invented and here are a few of the things I found out about it.
Previous wipery came in the form of grass, fur, leaves, mussel shells and corn on the cob (without the corn). Apparently stones and pieces of clay were the Greek solution and the Romans evolved their system into using a stick with a sponge. They dipped the said stick into a jug filled with salty water….
Actual toilet paper originated in China. Emperors ordered it in large sheets – maybe the emperor’s bottom was larger than the average posterior… Who knows? The first actual loo paper arrived on the market around 1857 and was a flat sheet with Aloe Vera. Oh and in 1935 Splinter free loo roll emerged onto the market… Amazing! SPLINTER FREE – HOORAH! Good old Great Britain originated the two ply in 1942.
Now of all the things I have learned, what shocked me the most, was that there was shortages of loo roll in the U.S in 1973. How can a government justify that? Imagine the speech. ‘We are making toilet paper cuts and we are going to ration toilet paper. This is in the best interest of the nation. Please comply…’
With all the above in mind – how glad are you that loo roll exists now?
After the loo roll meanderings I crossed the park and realised how grateful I am to dogs… Yes dogs – They definitely cheer me up. I love watching their little legs as they get a huge amount of pleasure chasing the ball. Although what gives me more pleasure, and this is naughty, is when the owner throws the ball and the dog looks disinterested. The owner then has to fetch the ball themselves. I think those dogs know what they are doing… And I love it!
Back to the desk for some office insights… And some more ways to mentally escape mundanity….
Cake and the art a cake resistance....!
CAKE ABSORBTION AND THE ART OF BACK CHATTING A CAKE.
Put the cake in the mouth… Go to the gym and burn it off…
That seems to be the common belief within the office. However I am in a period of anti-cakism… I am resisting that cake urge because summer is coming and when it comes to the local beach, I am not going to be the one who has save the whale campaigners dowsing me with water…
What is it with offices and the need to bring cake in at every opportunity? We have had charity cake, birthday cake, cakey cake and hoorah someone has run a long way – let’s celebrate with a cake! Actually there is even a look we have a cake let’s celebrate a cake with a cake hoorah!!!
Admittedly cake and chocolate is my kryptonite. What makes it increasingly difficult is that my desk is located in eyeshot of the cake launch-pad desk… It is not fair! So the cake battle is quite paramount. I have been found in the chocolate isle of the local supermarket wrestling myself over a box of chocolate lint… Yes it was like a toddler having a tantrum where the angel voice in my head said virtue and the naughty voice said do it who cares? Well the angel and the demon had a bit of a wrestle themselves and left me with chocolate scarring! Advice to all – do not talk to the chocolates in the chocolate isle and do not shout, mutter of grab your self in anyway in plain view of the security camera!
Yesterday was a particularly difficult cake struggle. The cakes were in direct view. With little voices screaming eat me… I realised why some cakes are known as fairy cakes because the little voice calling sounds like a fairy!
Anyway the majority of people in the office know that I am on a pound shifting mission. So in honour of this they have arranged the cake along my desk divider. Now they are all clearly eating cake in plane view and wafting in front of my face. Oh let’s make the cakes dance in front of my face… Obviously jamming cake up my nose is going to tempt me…
I did not give in…. So finally my boss came over and advised me that by sitting at the desk in close proximity to the cake meant that I was absorbing the particles of cake through my skin therefore I had succumbed… Unfair? So my response was the following by mail:
Obviously not wanting to disagree with my manager, I would like to apply this theory to other things… To test it if you like. If your theory is correct then the office comedian and office reliable (to omit names) are sitting relatively close, plus we have chairs and desk furniture… If we apply that particular theory to them that would suggest that I was technically absorbing all this through my skin which would therefore suggest I was a living black hole.
Apparently my boss has generated his own alternative universe of cake absorption… The rules are only known to him and his imaginary followers…
Moral of the story: do not tell anyone you are not eating cake because it will create office uproar!
Second moral of the story: do not talk to the cakes in front of your work colleagues, ask whether they can hear the fairies or write about your cake issues.
Third moral of the story do not unintentionally absorb cake through your skin! Or allow anyone to convince you that it is possible!
CAKE ABSORBTION AND THE ART OF BACK CHATTING A
Put the cake in the mouth… Go to the gym and burn it off…
That seems to be the common belief within the office. However I am in a period of anti-cakism… I am resisting that cake urge because summer is coming and when it comes to the local beach, I am not going to be the one who has save the whale campaigners dowsing me with water…
What is it with offices and the need to bring cake in at every opportunity? We have had charity cake, birthday cake, cakey cake and hoorah someone has run a long way – let’s celebrate with a cake! Actually there is even a look we have a cake let’s celebrate a cake with a cake hoorah!!!
Admittedly cake and chocolate is my kryptonite. What makes it increasingly difficult is that my desk is located in eyeshot of the cake launch-pad desk… It is not fair! So the cake battle is quite paramount. I have been found in the chocolate isle of the local supermarket wrestling myself over a box of chocolate lint… Yes it was like a toddler having a tantrum where the angel voice in my head said virtue and the naughty voice said do it who cares? Well the angel and the demon had a bit of a wrestle themselves and left me with chocolate scarring! Advice to all – do not talk to the chocolates in the chocolate isle and do not shout, mutter of grab your self in anyway in plain view of the security camera!
Yesterday was a particularly difficult cake struggle. The cakes were in direct view. With little voices screaming eat me… I realised why some cakes are known as fairy cakes because the little voice calling sounds like a fairy!
Anyway the majority of people in the office know that I am on a pound shifting mission. So in honour of this they have arranged the cake along my desk divider. Now they are all clearly eating cake in plane view and wafting in front of my face. Oh let’s make the cakes dance in front of my face… Obviously jamming cake up my nose is going to tempt me…
I did not give in…. So finally my boss came over and advised me that by sitting at the desk in close proximity to the cake meant that I was absorbing the particles of cake through my skin therefore I had succumbed… Unfair? So my response was the following by mail:
Obviously not wanting to disagree with my manager, I would like to apply this theory to other things… To test it if you like. If your theory is correct then the office comedian and office reliable (to omit names) are sitting relatively close, plus we have chairs and desk furniture… If we apply that particular theory to them that would suggest that I was technically absorbing all this through my skin which would therefore suggest I was a living black hole.
Apparently my boss has generated his own alternative universe of cake absorption… The rules are only known to him and his imaginary followers…
Moral of the story: do not tell anyone you are not eating cake because it will create office uproar!
Second moral of the story: do not talk to the cakes in front of your work colleagues, ask whether they can hear the fairies or write about your cake issues.
Third moral of the story do not unintentionally absorb cake through your skin! Or allow anyone to convince you that it is possible!
CAKE ABSORBTION AND THE ART OF BACK CHATTING A
Thursday 7 April 2011
Celebrity desk status!
Celebrity desk status…
Okay so what happens when someone simply gets bored and makes a blog about office types and sends it to a few of their friends? It gets sent to everyone who works in an office… I have had quite a few people asking me which type they are… Surely it is not for me to decide…. I think we all secretly know what we are… Although I have been told that I have not put myself in here so here it is according to one of the readers…
The office observer.
She sits at the desk pretending to work on a really complex project… Alternatively she is writing notes while wearing her headset at the desk. She is listening to people debating complex issues and chewing a carrot which is annoying the hell out of the people trying to solve the world’s problems… What she is actually doing is watching everyone’s moves. Stereotyping them and posting them on a blog that will be sent to all the offices… She is slightly mysterious, clever at watching people, has probably studied some kind of psychology and appears to be working hard… How busted is that?
It seems I have competition. The observer is being observed.
Okay so what happens when someone simply gets bored and makes a blog about office types and sends it to a few of their friends? It gets sent to everyone who works in an office… I have had quite a few people asking me which type they are… Surely it is not for me to decide…. I think we all secretly know what we are… Although I have been told that I have not put myself in here so here it is according to one of the readers…
The office observer.
She sits at the desk pretending to work on a really complex project… Alternatively she is writing notes while wearing her headset at the desk. She is listening to people debating complex issues and chewing a carrot which is annoying the hell out of the people trying to solve the world’s problems… What she is actually doing is watching everyone’s moves. Stereotyping them and posting them on a blog that will be sent to all the offices… She is slightly mysterious, clever at watching people, has probably studied some kind of psychology and appears to be working hard… How busted is that?
It seems I have competition. The observer is being observed.
A RATHER RANDOM THOUGHT ABOUT DESKS...
Desk life… / evolutionary deskness.
I often wonder, in terms of evolution, whether the desk will actually become part of our bodies…. Imagine all the effort taken to evolve from the sea, only to end up with a portable desk on out laps. I imagine it would be similar to how a tortoise has a shell on its back mixed with a kangaroo pouch. Maybe it will be like a flap of skin which resides on our bellies… It could fold our and harden when we need to work… Hmmm does that sound similar to what men have already? Have I just plagiarised the creator? Maybe that appendage could have a dual purpose… I guess we would have to hit that particular appendage with a hammer to flatten it out to make a desk platform from it… Can you tell that I have wondered off again… I am a bit overwhelmed by pivot tables, spreadsheet s and general work stuff today… I find the more I do ‘normal’ work the more I find myself thinking the most random thoughts… The other day I was thinking how much fun it would be to arrive at the desk on a zip line… The idea of whooshing through the corridors on a wire and end up right at my desk. I then was transported into the potential for everyone to have a zip line to their desk and how the office would become like a spider web… Okay I will stop now. For those of you that know me… This is quite normal for me to think… I was also thinking about how desks stacked up could become a place where people live – living at the desk, kind of like bunk beds of deskdom… I know – I got concerned too… You will understand why I am thinking these things because at the moment there are no hot men to look at… So what am I supposed to dream about? Actually I lie… There is one but he is Mr. Unavailable… So that one is off the mental energy list! Back to random constructs to distract from mundanity… My escape from mundanity… Ha. That could be the name of the book.
Today the weather is gorgeous… Rather than wave my legs in the air at abs… I am going to run home, get my laptop and edit the resonance by the sea! Bliss!
I often wonder, in terms of evolution, whether the desk will actually become part of our bodies…. Imagine all the effort taken to evolve from the sea, only to end up with a portable desk on out laps. I imagine it would be similar to how a tortoise has a shell on its back mixed with a kangaroo pouch. Maybe it will be like a flap of skin which resides on our bellies… It could fold our and harden when we need to work… Hmmm does that sound similar to what men have already? Have I just plagiarised the creator? Maybe that appendage could have a dual purpose… I guess we would have to hit that particular appendage with a hammer to flatten it out to make a desk platform from it… Can you tell that I have wondered off again… I am a bit overwhelmed by pivot tables, spreadsheet s and general work stuff today… I find the more I do ‘normal’ work the more I find myself thinking the most random thoughts… The other day I was thinking how much fun it would be to arrive at the desk on a zip line… The idea of whooshing through the corridors on a wire and end up right at my desk. I then was transported into the potential for everyone to have a zip line to their desk and how the office would become like a spider web… Okay I will stop now. For those of you that know me… This is quite normal for me to think… I was also thinking about how desks stacked up could become a place where people live – living at the desk, kind of like bunk beds of deskdom… I know – I got concerned too… You will understand why I am thinking these things because at the moment there are no hot men to look at… So what am I supposed to dream about? Actually I lie… There is one but he is Mr. Unavailable… So that one is off the mental energy list! Back to random constructs to distract from mundanity… My escape from mundanity… Ha. That could be the name of the book.
Today the weather is gorgeous… Rather than wave my legs in the air at abs… I am going to run home, get my laptop and edit the resonance by the sea! Bliss!
OFFICE LITTLE AND CUTE
Another one for the list…
The office little and cute.
This tiny and cute entity can be sent into all kind of office war zone. The management are kicking off, everything is falling apart and then… there they are… The secret weapon – the office little and cute. She is like the Shrek cat. When she smiles, hearts melt, anger dissolves and pigeons start mating. She has an amazing capacity to resolve disputes or use her cuteness to distract from them. When the poop hits the fan her cuteness wipes it away. What’s more there is something in her presence that makes you want to cuddle her. Many may want to pat her on the head but we have to hold back. With the office little and cute cuteness fills the air like the smell of cherry blossom on a breeze.
Another one for the list…
The office little and cute.
This tiny and cute entity can be sent into all kind of office war zone. The management are kicking off, everything is falling apart and then… there they are… The secret weapon – the office little and cute. She is like the Shrek cat. When she smiles, hearts melt, anger dissolves and pigeons start mating. She has an amazing capacity to resolve disputes or use her cuteness to distract from them. When the poop hits the fan her cuteness wipes it away. What’s more there is something in her presence that makes you want to cuddle her. Many may want to pat her on the head but we have to hold back. With the office little and cute cuteness fills the air like the smell of cherry blossom on a breeze.
Another one for the list…
I MISSED A FEW OFFICE TYPES
Okay… So it seems I missed a few:
The office gossip.
She is usually buxom and has a tendency to cross her arms as she leans into hear everything and every one. She is a phenomenon because she can extract the intimate details of everyone’s personal life. She is there when someone breaks down and cries, she senses when something is brewing. She notices the subtle gestures between those who are hiding the sausage but trying to keep it quiet. She is an antennae for all goings on and when she gets the chance she sets herself up to be confided in. She is a gossip genius. When she feels she is ready to share she will subtly drop some of the most surprising antics into conversation. ‘So do you hear about…. Such a shame…’ ‘You would never believe… but so and so….’ ‘Guess who is ….’ Everyone wants to know her because people’s lives are brightened by this creature. It is natural to want to know about others but be aware that everyone probably knows about you too!
The office get away with doing absolutely nothing!
The diddly squatter of work. He spends all day on the internet reading the news, looking for cars to buy and bidding on e-bay. He looks like he is busy because he has developed ‘the I am really busy expression,’ but in truth he has done bugger all. Then when it comes to the end of the day his work is dished out to everyone else because it has not been done… He is the object of intense dislike. He rides the wave of ‘getting away with it’ for usually about six months, then he will either move department or get another job. Oh and when it comes down to bonus / pay rise time he is deeply wronged because he has not received anything. He does not get the equation of work in = pay out.
The office vanity.
On the desk there are lipsticks, nail varnishes, spare scarves, perfume etc. She is immaculate. Her hair always looks like the adverts and bounces perfectly. Her clothing is perfectly co-ordinated and her skin is clear like porcelain. She looks amazing, nothing is out of place and she always has a glossy magazine to reference. She takes pride in how she looks but disaster falls when a nail is broken. Catastrophy and drama ensue until super-glue is applied. The world then returns to stability.
The office mum.
She is there in times of need. She usually has available tea and biscuits. If anyone cries at the desk she is there batting off the office gossip and backstabber. Her atmosphere is pure mother, she nurtures, loves and supports. She is a wonderful woman and should receive more appreciation because she constantly gives with out the expectation of a return. We should have a national office mum day! Oh and never under-estimate the power of nurture!
The office power hungry.
This one is simple – they will do what they have to do to get where think they want to be. They will stamp on anyone and everyone to achieve their goal. What they do not consider is that to have power a person needs to feel powerful inside. The power hungry at some point has felt powerless and the chip on their shoulder drives them. They believe that in the future that having power will make them happy. A little insight here – power does not make people happy. Being happy is a state of being… Thought you might like to know that!
The office idiot.
He is rather silly, spends his life just getting by. He just does not get it, he never will because his mind resides in a land of complete idiocy. In a state of ignorant bliss he gets on with mundane and easy tasks that no one wants to do. He usually gets it wrong so it has to be done again. It is fine, he will not be upset, he will simply do something else equally badly. The others in the office have no clue how he got employed but the office idiot does serve his purpose in that he makes the rest of the office feel superior!
The office powerhouse of efficiency.
Done it. Yep done. Have you… Yep done, complete, done! This person is super efficient. They work like a machine. With big gestures they tick yet another thing off their list. They are super efficient and like to let everyone know it. Yes they do make others feel inadequate but we do need this person within the office dynamic to support the office idiot and the ‘I have done diddly squat!’
The thing is this person will end up with burnout at some point or build massive resentment for the people who cannot keep up. She will ask something to be done and will learn that only she will do it… It is a harsh realisation for the Office powerhouse of efficiency that other people do not get satisfaction from being the most efficient.
Okay… So it seems I missed a few:
The office gossip.
She is usually buxom and has a tendency to cross her arms as she leans into hear everything and every one. She is a phenomenon because she can extract the intimate details of everyone’s personal life. She is there when someone breaks down and cries, she senses when something is brewing. She notices the subtle gestures between those who are hiding the sausage but trying to keep it quiet. She is an antennae for all goings on and when she gets the chance she sets herself up to be confided in. She is a gossip genius. When she feels she is ready to share she will subtly drop some of the most surprising antics into conversation. ‘So do you hear about…. Such a shame…’ ‘You would never believe… but so and so….’ ‘Guess who is ….’ Everyone wants to know her because people’s lives are brightened by this creature. It is natural to want to know about others but be aware that everyone probably knows about you too!
The office get away with doing absolutely nothing!
The diddly squatter of work. He spends all day on the internet reading the news, looking for cars to buy and bidding on e-bay. He looks like he is busy because he has developed ‘the I am really busy expression,’ but in truth he has done bugger all. Then when it comes to the end of the day his work is dished out to everyone else because it has not been done… He is the object of intense dislike. He rides the wave of ‘getting away with it’ for usually about six months, then he will either move department or get another job. Oh and when it comes down to bonus / pay rise time he is deeply wronged because he has not received anything. He does not get the equation of work in = pay out.
The office vanity.
On the desk there are lipsticks, nail varnishes, spare scarves, perfume etc. She is immaculate. Her hair always looks like the adverts and bounces perfectly. Her clothing is perfectly co-ordinated and her skin is clear like porcelain. She looks amazing, nothing is out of place and she always has a glossy magazine to reference. She takes pride in how she looks but disaster falls when a nail is broken. Catastrophy and drama ensue until super-glue is applied. The world then returns to stability.
The office mum.
She is there in times of need. She usually has available tea and biscuits. If anyone cries at the desk she is there batting off the office gossip and backstabber. Her atmosphere is pure mother, she nurtures, loves and supports. She is a wonderful woman and should receive more appreciation because she constantly gives with out the expectation of a return. We should have a national office mum day! Oh and never under-estimate the power of nurture!
The office power hungry.
This one is simple – they will do what they have to do to get where think they want to be. They will stamp on anyone and everyone to achieve their goal. What they do not consider is that to have power a person needs to feel powerful inside. The power hungry at some point has felt powerless and the chip on their shoulder drives them. They believe that in the future that having power will make them happy. A little insight here – power does not make people happy. Being happy is a state of being… Thought you might like to know that!
The office idiot.
He is rather silly, spends his life just getting by. He just does not get it, he never will because his mind resides in a land of complete idiocy. In a state of ignorant bliss he gets on with mundane and easy tasks that no one wants to do. He usually gets it wrong so it has to be done again. It is fine, he will not be upset, he will simply do something else equally badly. The others in the office have no clue how he got employed but the office idiot does serve his purpose in that he makes the rest of the office feel superior!
The office powerhouse of efficiency.
Done it. Yep done. Have you… Yep done, complete, done! This person is super efficient. They work like a machine. With big gestures they tick yet another thing off their list. They are super efficient and like to let everyone know it. Yes they do make others feel inadequate but we do need this person within the office dynamic to support the office idiot and the ‘I have done diddly squat!’
The thing is this person will end up with burnout at some point or build massive resentment for the people who cannot keep up. She will ask something to be done and will learn that only she will do it… It is a harsh realisation for the Office powerhouse of efficiency that other people do not get satisfaction from being the most efficient.
Okay… So it seems I missed a few:
Wednesday 6 April 2011
OBSERVATIONS FROM THE DESK!
Retina Blue (Volume 1)
Observations from the desk!
The world of work, office characters and the benefits of spending your life sitting at a desk.
It is amazing what thoughts come from boredom!
Today I attended the conference call of dread!
Every week I have a conference call which is intensely dull and causes emotional pain. I often spend the majority of conference calls watching the office dynamic. It is kind of like bird watching but the human version. Obviously I listen to the call but I wonder what other people in the office are actually doing or thinking at their little desk. I sit back in the chair and imagine all the thoughts they are having in their own self-created realities. In truth our little desk areas make us like chickens in our little office battery farms. If we were an experiment, the below would be the verdict of the types of human experimentation and social interaction found in the breeding ground known as the office:
Office interactions and characters…
The office tart!
I have noticed there is generally an office tart. One who waves her wares in front of all the men. She either wears the shortest skirt or bends over a lot. Alternatively she will wear that really low-cut leopard skin top which reveals a bit of lacy bra. When there is a works social even she turns up in either leather trousers and high heels or tight lycra. The men circle like sharks. The women in the vicinity glance at each other and roll their eyes. In my previous department there was a woman who purposely wore her breastage defying gravity. She knows exactly what she is doing. She will flick her hair and laugh at men’s jokes even if they are not funny. This is all part of her corporate plan and it is her way of being promoted. Strangely none of the women liked her and they called her the pro… not meaning professional. Quite often she will be bonking anyone with a title!
Thinking about it – I think there are quite often certain roles within the office.
So we have begun with the office tart. She is so busy waving her wares to get attention.
The office stinker!
There is quite often an office stinker. An example of this was a chap who is rather flatulent. He threatened other employees with his bottom. One time he demanded a biscuit from his colleague by threatening him with a fart. It is not fair but there is usually one. If there are two stinkers in the same office you are most definitely unlucky… There seems to be two factions in office stink. There are those who do not wash properly or at all. They have a tendency to violate nostrils on a continual basis and over a period of time. Those poor blighters who sit in close proximity become accustomed to such smell. That is not fair or right!
Then we have the office blow off. It is usually a man who aggressively passes wind at people. He can threaten, bully or hold hostage. This person is cruel, they know the power of the stink and use this as a power. Personally I really have an issue with this kind of person.
Then we have the office angry.
This person finds every excuse to explode. They remind me of human volcanoes… I have noticed them kicking the printer or slamming drawers. When they hit their heads on the desk you know they have really lost it. My advice is to keep away because you may well end up on the receiving end of their emotional vomit. I promise you they will not get better because everything becomes a trigger until they deal with themselves! Will they do that? No… They are too busy blaming everyone and everything.
The office victim / hypochondriac
This is the person who always has a problem, an ache or is simply a victim of everything… you will notice them limp, look sad or huff loudly… I have noticed lots of them. They pull faces when they walk. When they come over to talk to you they make sucking noises through their teeth. They just want to talk about an ailment or an issue. No one can save them so do not try.
The office dieter. This is the person who is permanently on a diet but does not lose any weight. As they discuss how little they eat, they quite often stuff the second bar of chocolate in their face which they wash down with a diet coke.
The office pessimist.
Nothing is going to work. No matter what happens, no matter how many people help – it will just never work… This is like working next to a grey cloud…
The office comedian.
In our office we have the chap who you look at and laugh. It is not because he looks funny, he is just naturally funny. I have found him sleeping at the desk or doing all manner of thing to distract from the days he is late (like wearing a tie). “When I wear a tie no one asks why I am late. They ask me why I am wearing a tie instead!” Being completely unaware of how funny he is, he lives in a special world which enables the rest of the office to laugh and stress relief. The office victim will love him but will never understand him. Whether you like to admit it or not he is half man / half amazing!
The office oblivious.
This character wafts about, they gaze into space and they are never really there. They are like a ghost and their eyes often trave in different directions simultaneously. They may be looking at you but you can never quite tell.
The office nut nuzzler
This is the classic brown nose. They do everything they can to please all the managers. What is interesting about them is how they seem to invade other people’s space… One particular nut nuzzler was quite often pushing their groin forwards when talking to people. Weird. The truth is they feel rubbish about themselves and want people to like them…
The office back stabber.
The back-stabber be-friends every new employee. They gain their trust through providing them with stationary. For the first month they are their best friend but when there is a mistake they grass them up to make themselves look better. It is an unfortunate reality but it happens. The back-stabber can often be the nut nuzzler as well. The truth is they want to be liked but no one trusts them. That is why they befriend all the newbys… They are the innocents to be corporately slaughtered!
The office gagging for it /perv.
The bloke who is practically sweating because he is gagging for it. Everyone knows it. He is generally shifting around. On his phone there will be all manner of dirty picture. When taking part in an office night out he won’t be able to avoid discussion about porn. He will show girls dirty pictures and not understand why they look horrified and step away. He tends to invade space and always caught staring at the office tart’s breasts… He is not of a high enough ilk to liaise with the office strumpet because she is too busy pursuing the married managing director… Or is already doing him. Of course no one knows when actually everyone knows!
There is the second type of the above, I have just been reminded by a colleague. It is the older man who lurks around young women’s desks. He has been married for thirty years, has children older than the new office totty and offers his vast knowledge in exchange for perving…
The new girl / office totty is polite because she does not want to offend, but is very aware that every move she makes is tracked… She is fresh game and the old office perv is fantasising about her.
The office totty.
Again there are two types of office totty: those who are aware and those who are unaware. They purpose in life is to provide the other workers with visual stimulation and fantasy. We might be jealous of their natural beauty but we are glad they exist. If they did not the world would be a very sad place. What’s more, they provide focus for the office pervs. That keeps them away from us!
The office boring bloke.
You do not want to get stuck with this one. He takes ages to tell the story that you really do not want to hear. His technique is to capture you in a corner, or in a place that you cannot escape. If there was a cliff he would tell you the story while you were on the edge. The choice would be listen to the boring story or...
The office obsessive fitty.
They are fit; they eat protein with a spoon. They go on about how they are running this, training for that and have endless goals. They can run faster, further than anyone who has won gold in the Olympics. When you talk to them their posture is erect and their shoulders are back. They glow with health and everyone wishes they were fit like them but the truth is they are busy shoving cake in their face!
The office wide boy.
This is the chap who reckons he knows everything and just lies and lies and embellishes. They will link loads of acronyms and talk really fast. In truth he is talking absolute rubbish but he is convinced of it. he is also convinced you are convinced - even if you are not!
The office temp.
Usually a singer, an actor, a musician, a photographer or something a little bit alternative. They bring a little bit of sparkle and individuality to the office. Generally they don't were office attire, there will be something a little bit individual in how they present themselves. It could be the beads, the hair or the cardigan. Of course they believe they are going to make their millions when they go to London. Or alternatively they are saving to go on a really big world travel. They spend their six month contract dreaming and talking about what they are going to do. Then strangely they become permenant because they have been corporately moulded. Some make the break and go to another office and temp some more. They will make it big next time…
The office actual worker.
This person is usually a middle-aged woman who simply gets on with it. They are a rare breed but they support the rest of the working environment in that they actually do some work. They are not on office communicator. They work methodically and save the bottoms of everyone. The thing is the boss knows this and whenever there is work to be done it lands on their desk. They never get promoted; they are never told how good they are… They simply get on and do it. They are
reliable!
So one of my least favourite things is hierarchy and how we all have to fall into labels. So we apparently have to respect someone because they have a label. What’s more, how some people think they can treat others badly because they have a label… This leads me to the following:
The office control freak.
Often in a managerial position. Everyone is not good enough. They tell people things like they are not allowed to use the word okay in their sentences. In all everything has to be done their way and no other… Everyone slags them off, but no-one dares tell them. In the end the control freak will lose control and break down – so it is just a matter of waiting!
Now that I have watched the room I have just remembered my favourite conference call. I was eating a carrot and had not set the phone to mute. All the way through the international and really important call there was some really annoying crunching. Because of the time delay I did not realise it was actually me… No one mentioned anything, but towards the end of the call it dawned on me that the annoying crunching was actually me. I turned the mute on and laughed so hard it hurt. Obviously I believe in Absolute professionalism!
So work… I have to admit I like going to work. I like the fact there is a routine and we are all basically thrown into a room of people we would never usually meet. Everyone has a story and everyone is there to make money because in truth - if we had loads of money would we still be here tolerating corporate bull crap? I have to admit that the world of work has provided me with great characters and stories to base my literary adventures on… So I am happy that I work and I believe we all need purpose. I do wonder whether all offices contain the same characters. I wrote this up after walking home... If there are more characters that I have not touched on... I would love to know!
So… With all the above in mind, which one are you?
I personally like to believe I am the office hotty but then the word deluded may well applied to my selection!
Observations from the desk!
The world of work, office characters and the benefits of spending your life sitting at a desk.
It is amazing what thoughts come from boredom!
Today I attended the conference call of dread!
Every week I have a conference call which is intensely dull and causes emotional pain. I often spend the majority of conference calls watching the office dynamic. It is kind of like bird watching but the human version. Obviously I listen to the call but I wonder what other people in the office are actually doing or thinking at their little desk. I sit back in the chair and imagine all the thoughts they are having in their own self-created realities. In truth our little desk areas make us like chickens in our little office battery farms. If we were an experiment, the below would be the verdict of the types of human experimentation and social interaction found in the breeding ground known as the office:
Office interactions and characters…
The office tart!
I have noticed there is generally an office tart. One who waves her wares in front of all the men. She either wears the shortest skirt or bends over a lot. Alternatively she will wear that really low-cut leopard skin top which reveals a bit of lacy bra. When there is a works social even she turns up in either leather trousers and high heels or tight lycra. The men circle like sharks. The women in the vicinity glance at each other and roll their eyes. In my previous department there was a woman who purposely wore her breastage defying gravity. She knows exactly what she is doing. She will flick her hair and laugh at men’s jokes even if they are not funny. This is all part of her corporate plan and it is her way of being promoted. Strangely none of the women liked her and they called her the pro… not meaning professional. Quite often she will be bonking anyone with a title!
Thinking about it – I think there are quite often certain roles within the office.
So we have begun with the office tart. She is so busy waving her wares to get attention.
The office stinker!
There is quite often an office stinker. An example of this was a chap who is rather flatulent. He threatened other employees with his bottom. One time he demanded a biscuit from his colleague by threatening him with a fart. It is not fair but there is usually one. If there are two stinkers in the same office you are most definitely unlucky… There seems to be two factions in office stink. There are those who do not wash properly or at all. They have a tendency to violate nostrils on a continual basis and over a period of time. Those poor blighters who sit in close proximity become accustomed to such smell. That is not fair or right!
Then we have the office blow off. It is usually a man who aggressively passes wind at people. He can threaten, bully or hold hostage. This person is cruel, they know the power of the stink and use this as a power. Personally I really have an issue with this kind of person.
Then we have the office angry.
This person finds every excuse to explode. They remind me of human volcanoes… I have noticed them kicking the printer or slamming drawers. When they hit their heads on the desk you know they have really lost it. My advice is to keep away because you may well end up on the receiving end of their emotional vomit. I promise you they will not get better because everything becomes a trigger until they deal with themselves! Will they do that? No… They are too busy blaming everyone and everything.
The office victim / hypochondriac
This is the person who always has a problem, an ache or is simply a victim of everything… you will notice them limp, look sad or huff loudly… I have noticed lots of them. They pull faces when they walk. When they come over to talk to you they make sucking noises through their teeth. They just want to talk about an ailment or an issue. No one can save them so do not try.
The office dieter. This is the person who is permanently on a diet but does not lose any weight. As they discuss how little they eat, they quite often stuff the second bar of chocolate in their face which they wash down with a diet coke.
The office pessimist.
Nothing is going to work. No matter what happens, no matter how many people help – it will just never work… This is like working next to a grey cloud…
The office comedian.
In our office we have the chap who you look at and laugh. It is not because he looks funny, he is just naturally funny. I have found him sleeping at the desk or doing all manner of thing to distract from the days he is late (like wearing a tie). “When I wear a tie no one asks why I am late. They ask me why I am wearing a tie instead!” Being completely unaware of how funny he is, he lives in a special world which enables the rest of the office to laugh and stress relief. The office victim will love him but will never understand him. Whether you like to admit it or not he is half man / half amazing!
The office oblivious.
This character wafts about, they gaze into space and they are never really there. They are like a ghost and their eyes often trave in different directions simultaneously. They may be looking at you but you can never quite tell.
The office nut nuzzler
This is the classic brown nose. They do everything they can to please all the managers. What is interesting about them is how they seem to invade other people’s space… One particular nut nuzzler was quite often pushing their groin forwards when talking to people. Weird. The truth is they feel rubbish about themselves and want people to like them…
The office back stabber.
The back-stabber be-friends every new employee. They gain their trust through providing them with stationary. For the first month they are their best friend but when there is a mistake they grass them up to make themselves look better. It is an unfortunate reality but it happens. The back-stabber can often be the nut nuzzler as well. The truth is they want to be liked but no one trusts them. That is why they befriend all the newbys… They are the innocents to be corporately slaughtered!
The office gagging for it /perv.
The bloke who is practically sweating because he is gagging for it. Everyone knows it. He is generally shifting around. On his phone there will be all manner of dirty picture. When taking part in an office night out he won’t be able to avoid discussion about porn. He will show girls dirty pictures and not understand why they look horrified and step away. He tends to invade space and always caught staring at the office tart’s breasts… He is not of a high enough ilk to liaise with the office strumpet because she is too busy pursuing the married managing director… Or is already doing him. Of course no one knows when actually everyone knows!
There is the second type of the above, I have just been reminded by a colleague. It is the older man who lurks around young women’s desks. He has been married for thirty years, has children older than the new office totty and offers his vast knowledge in exchange for perving…
The new girl / office totty is polite because she does not want to offend, but is very aware that every move she makes is tracked… She is fresh game and the old office perv is fantasising about her.
The office totty.
Again there are two types of office totty: those who are aware and those who are unaware. They purpose in life is to provide the other workers with visual stimulation and fantasy. We might be jealous of their natural beauty but we are glad they exist. If they did not the world would be a very sad place. What’s more, they provide focus for the office pervs. That keeps them away from us!
The office boring bloke.
You do not want to get stuck with this one. He takes ages to tell the story that you really do not want to hear. His technique is to capture you in a corner, or in a place that you cannot escape. If there was a cliff he would tell you the story while you were on the edge. The choice would be listen to the boring story or...
The office obsessive fitty.
They are fit; they eat protein with a spoon. They go on about how they are running this, training for that and have endless goals. They can run faster, further than anyone who has won gold in the Olympics. When you talk to them their posture is erect and their shoulders are back. They glow with health and everyone wishes they were fit like them but the truth is they are busy shoving cake in their face!
The office wide boy.
This is the chap who reckons he knows everything and just lies and lies and embellishes. They will link loads of acronyms and talk really fast. In truth he is talking absolute rubbish but he is convinced of it. he is also convinced you are convinced - even if you are not!
The office temp.
Usually a singer, an actor, a musician, a photographer or something a little bit alternative. They bring a little bit of sparkle and individuality to the office. Generally they don't were office attire, there will be something a little bit individual in how they present themselves. It could be the beads, the hair or the cardigan. Of course they believe they are going to make their millions when they go to London. Or alternatively they are saving to go on a really big world travel. They spend their six month contract dreaming and talking about what they are going to do. Then strangely they become permenant because they have been corporately moulded. Some make the break and go to another office and temp some more. They will make it big next time…
The office actual worker.
This person is usually a middle-aged woman who simply gets on with it. They are a rare breed but they support the rest of the working environment in that they actually do some work. They are not on office communicator. They work methodically and save the bottoms of everyone. The thing is the boss knows this and whenever there is work to be done it lands on their desk. They never get promoted; they are never told how good they are… They simply get on and do it. They are
reliable!
So one of my least favourite things is hierarchy and how we all have to fall into labels. So we apparently have to respect someone because they have a label. What’s more, how some people think they can treat others badly because they have a label… This leads me to the following:
The office control freak.
Often in a managerial position. Everyone is not good enough. They tell people things like they are not allowed to use the word okay in their sentences. In all everything has to be done their way and no other… Everyone slags them off, but no-one dares tell them. In the end the control freak will lose control and break down – so it is just a matter of waiting!
Now that I have watched the room I have just remembered my favourite conference call. I was eating a carrot and had not set the phone to mute. All the way through the international and really important call there was some really annoying crunching. Because of the time delay I did not realise it was actually me… No one mentioned anything, but towards the end of the call it dawned on me that the annoying crunching was actually me. I turned the mute on and laughed so hard it hurt. Obviously I believe in Absolute professionalism!
So work… I have to admit I like going to work. I like the fact there is a routine and we are all basically thrown into a room of people we would never usually meet. Everyone has a story and everyone is there to make money because in truth - if we had loads of money would we still be here tolerating corporate bull crap? I have to admit that the world of work has provided me with great characters and stories to base my literary adventures on… So I am happy that I work and I believe we all need purpose. I do wonder whether all offices contain the same characters. I wrote this up after walking home... If there are more characters that I have not touched on... I would love to know!
So… With all the above in mind, which one are you?
I personally like to believe I am the office hotty but then the word deluded may well applied to my selection!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)