Never trust a man with short legs. His brains are too near his bottom.
So I wanted to tell you about some of the people I work with. I have changed their names. Thought I better.
When a butterfly flaps its wings on the other side of the globe, Margot will complain about the wind. She has three settings – “always hot,” “always cold” and the more common, “always complaining no what matter the temperature is.”
I have to put up with the exaggerated performance depicting heatstroke or frostbite (hand-held folding fans and fake fingers lost due to extreme cold included). I feel like I get to experience all four seasons in one day at the office.
Now for me, the office toilets are a sacred place, an oasis of serenity. There’s an unwritten rule that states when someone is in a cubicle, it’s not acceptable to instigate contact unless it’s to say there is a fire in the building or a beloved family pet has passed away. Nigel is not like that. He has no qualms about banging on the door to tell me about a missed comma in the word document I sent him.
Not content with that, he is also keen on making pointless, banal talk at the sink, eye contact at the urinal (luckily eye to eye) and sitting in the cubicle himself, shouting at his wife on the phone.
I have therefore resorted going to Nando’s to use their facilities to give myself a break.
And finally for the first lorry full of freaks is Glen.
Everyone high five’s him in the morning. He sends everybody funny YouTube videos of animals doing dumbass things and I have even been invited to his wedding next summer.
But I have no idea what his job in the company is. I wonder if he was hired to raise morale. An alternative is he is from a far flung planet and is here to take over the world bit by bit. He just seemed to show up one day, sat at a vacant chair and everyone has been too embarrassed to ask anything ever since.