THE ‘the office’
During my lucrative career as something or other, I have worked in an office. Very much like Chandler, nobody actually knows what I do. At times, this includes me. Growing up and associating with the reprobates I call friends, I find myself part of a minority of office workers in the group. Sure, I struggle to change a light bulb and my hands are wonderfully moisturised, but I can type without looking at the keyboard and the art of looking busy has well and truly been mastered.
Much like the beloved sitcom ‘The office’, long silences between lines are very much apparent. It is difficult to elaborate for a significant amount of time on the following subjects; what did you have for tea last night? Did you watch that Emmerdale last night? What are your plans for the weekend? (In desperate times, this is asked on a Monday, it is socially acceptable to ask this on a Wednesday).
Every office is made up of the following five types of people ;
Number one, the man/woman missing a head. This man/woman does not have a head, as it is firmly lodged up the manager type figures arse. On a daily basis they follow hierarchy around like a two man take of human centipede, a graphic notion I know. First in, last out. Not overly unattractive but definitely single with a mis-placed dress sense. They usually eat alone, and have at least one breakdown a year.
Number two, Sick note. More days of sickness than a laboratory flu tested monkey. I would like to express more opinion on this person, but they’re never actually in to be judged.
Number three, the office joker. This person usually struts around all day like the Fonz. Most people appreciate them, apart from one or two members of management as they rarely do any work, and usually cause mayhem on the Christmas party by getting caught in the toilets with dirty Barbara. Often they tell stories of mid-week drinking or ‘on a cheeky school night’. Not too bad to look at, but carries obvious under-lying Daddy issues, and at the end of the day, just wants to be loved.
Number four, is the man/woman/fossil that has been at the company since the dawn of time. This person cannot comprehend how a computer works, and thinks Wi-Fi is an act of evil sorcery. A midst a desk full of blue ribbons, they talk fondly of the days of slavery and how they narrowly avoided extinction in the ice age. Despite them serving in every war since the Battle of Hastings, they are in fact very unpleasant.
The fifth person found in every office is the mirage. Nine to Five she is a beauty of wonder. Sought after by the company’s male population, peered upon with lustful eyes. When the office doors close however, this magical creature plummets from a ‘naughty nine’, to a ‘for the lads’ five. A harsh reminder of the power of choice.