Here's me : "Yes?"
The Boss : "To Dublin?"
Here's me : "No no no NO NO NO. To where? It's not from Dublin to fucking Dublin, so from Dublin to where? To Felixestowe? To New York? Rotterdam? The North Pole? To Russia, maybe? To fucking Xing-Gang?!?"
There might well be spittle hanging from my mouth here. Enough is enough.
There is a tense stand-off. Our eyes meet. Mine are probably still swivelling slightly. Her own are a terrifying dead-calm. What is she thinking, in these seconds? What machinations is her brain conceiving, what terrible revenge? What shall she say, to punish my outburst and the sin of losing my fucking rag over being asked yet again a fucking nonsense question? I can't bear it. The seconds seem to stretch away into hours. Still we stare at each other, and her features betray no emotion; her eyes are the abyss Nietzsche spoke of, into which I have gazed for far too long, now gazing back at me.
The Boss, now smiling, breaks into song : "Xing-Gang-Ging, Gooly-Gooly-Gooly, Xing-Gang-Ging, Xing-Gang-Ging, Xing-Gang-Ging, Gooly-Gooly-Gooly, Xing-Gang-Ging, Xing-Gang-Ging, Xing-Gang-Ging!"
..and, now very happily singing this, she seemingly forgets all about the above exchange and turns back to her computer.
Whoa you have a way with a picture. That was a shocking scroll down I can tell you.
ReplyDeleteThis is likely a really stupid question, but isn't it her job to know how to get a whatsit from A to B? How did she make out before you were around to ask?
And to answer my own question with a question, do you know who had your job before you and at which supportive mental environment they are currently receiving treatment?
No-one, she was hired, the office was opened, I was hired two months later. We did have a third member of staff for a few months but he ran away.
ReplyDeleteSo - there you have it SK.
ReplyDelete"Oh look Boss - a shiny thing! It's pretty - look!" and off she happily trots.
Alternatively, had you given any consideration to speaking in tongues when she vomits exorcist-speak at you?
Nice photo, by the way. Just as I'd imagined her from your highly-descriptive prose ;)
What the feck? Is this woman for real? How the hell has she managed to avoid natural delection for so long?
ReplyDeleteEnough with the questions...
I would have throttled the life out of her before now.
Loving the blog. Makes me feel so much better about my job...
Creepy!
ReplyDeleteSorry about that... That should read 'natural SELECTION'. Would you believe, I work as a proof reader! (Don't tell my boss, please).
ReplyDeleteMaybe if you were to start having conversations with imaginary people in the office she might get scared and leave you alone. It's a bit extreme, but it might just work.
ReplyDeleteThat's fantastic. WHAT the HELL is wrong with this person? Do you think she does it just to irritate you?
ReplyDeleteAnonymous - proof reading is one on the things it says I'm good at on my CV, right under the bit where my phone number was once mis-typed.
ReplyDelete(Took about three months to spot and correct, during which time I was cold-calling agencies. If it cost me any jobs it serves me right.)
To anonymous and to Elle, Once upon a time I received a CV from a person residing in Londinium who wished to apply for an administration position in my office. Obviously attention to detail is an important asppect of administration. Well this CV was from a freelance proof reader who had worked at the BBC, worked at a number of large corporations (our company not large). Anyho', the CV part was just great, my heart swelled in anticipation of arranging an interview. I re-read the covering letter - oh no! In the final paragraph, this proof reading superstar wished to "reirritate" his skills. Let me reiterate, he wrote "reirritate".
ReplyDeletehehehe.
ReplyDelete"asppect of administration"
Proofread fail.
Incidentally, the word verification they gave me on this post was 'molest'. Nice.
At least your office is entertaining enough to write a blog about. You didn't think of that, did you? Don't think about all us poor bastards who endure just about all the non-eventfulness and humour vacuums a human being can enjoy before he dies of mortgages.
ReplyDeleteI'm not feeling sorry for you any more. Not when I have to memorise "the big five".
Your stories amuse me, dear readers, thank you very much :)
ReplyDeleteJC - No sympathy. I spent the three years before this working for a corporate-cock-sucking-multi-national machine, and only just got out with my soul intact; although this seems as good a time as any to mention that if I was someone else, and had to work with me, I could probably have written a blog about how much of a cunt that guy was to work with. Make of this what you will.
Don't worry SK, I'll be much happier and back to my normal self at the end of next week, when I leave ***bank and get back to gainful sitting on the internet thanking fuck that I don't work that much. :)
ReplyDelete"asppect of administration"
ReplyDeleteYeah, I didn't do administration, nor profess to be a freelance proofreader in my CV. I was the FECKING boss, la la la la la la la. (till I went mental)
hahaha SK, you need a taser dude... when she wakes up and asks, what happened, you can be all innocent and stuff...
ReplyDeletemaybe you should change her dates on her pc, sit back, and watch the carnage....
Oh, she is BRILLIANT, utterly mental! Can I have one please - kind of like an evil furby, to sit and squeak meaninglessly as I work?
ReplyDelete