On the Job: Day 2
Was at work for 8 hours doing a dodgy flash and photoshopping a very Germanic picture of the new PM hailing on a black background. I’m tempted to put a little swastika next to it.
They made me a little Press Association Pass and I feel like a proper journalist, one of those guys that go on undercover investigations. Except I’ve got this daft fake smile plastered on my face (I look like a pumpkin on a stick) on the ID so its not very convincing.
I’m supposed to use it to tap in an out of the building, very professionally and in a secretive way but have no idea how to.
On the way up in the lift, some guy asks me rather scandalised,
“You don’t know how to use your pass??”
“I’m new here…” I explain.
“So what? All companies have them!”
“But….. I haven’t been to any other companies!”
I am forced to admit.
says deflated scandalised man.
My pseudo professional veneer is blown. Some undercover agent.
Drank 2 large hot chocolates, paranoid I’d knock them over as they sat on the desk. I drank them very quickly just in case.
My boss and my neighbour then spent the last hour of the day discussing old-fashioned English sweets while one of them collaged it into a desktop wallpaper. All the techies came around to compare sweet & choc notes. We then discussed the shocking tellie-tubbie situation in Poland until going home time, 6:00pm (or as I like to call it, yipee-yipee-yay-yay time).
Am supposed to visit my great-aunt Lily in Hastings this weekend and not really looking forward to it at all. Georgina’s birthday is the only highlight of the next 2 weeks.
It just occurred to me, that we will probably not meet people from our class much now.
Later perhaps even less.
Then finally once in 10 years we might pass each other on the street, balding and with 5 kids in tow somewhere.
(One of the ‘Loose Women’ panelists, the chubby one comes from a family of 8!! and has something like 4-5 kids. Ugh.)
“Oh really? You work for so and so… gosh doing so well… me?
No I’m unemployed…. no no still no kids…. No, no… No husband…No… No wife either…yes, yes still looking…. oh really?
You have a divorced friend? Uh huh? Morbidly obese you say?
Oh yes, yes of course…. bad acne? Really? Must be difficult at his age …uh huh uh huh…On the dole? Oh I see… really?
Well leave me his number… that would be lovely..”
Nobody leaves comments.
Which is even more depressing than the lack of non-spam emails.
Spam is so depressing.
I’m going to go eat some chicken and smoke in my room.