Aim lower than a snake’s belly in a wheel rut

The only thing that ever sat its way to success was a hen.

Sarah Brown






So here is the other bit of my analysis of some of the people I work with. They probably thing I’m odd, In fact, I know they do.

Me, with my tidy desk and pencils in a line.

I am sometimes not sure if I work in an office or an asylum.

There may be very little difference.


Prepare the fitting rooms, because my boss make me want to change my whole work attire. Whilst there are days I stumble around in a slightly creased shirt (only slightly), my boss looks crisp at 5pm. He thinks that a three-piece suit is a reasonable outfit of choice even when it’s 100 degrees outside. He was wearing cufflinks before I could spell it.

I have decided though the next time he makes one of those irritating suggestions like “Let’s all dress for the job you really want”, follow your dreams and arrive in a Batman costume. Or Mrs Doubtfire.


Then there is Jamie.

Just like a kid right after entering a hotel room on a family holiday having consumed a bucket of M&M’s, he is in constant motion. I have no idea of his actual seat, but there have been sightings around the building.

He makes the Duracell bunny look like a Sloth and a fifteen-minute talk can legitimately count as a visit to the gym.

Most of the time he is like a fly trapped in a glass jar and I keep trying to convince HR to install speed humps in the corridors.


And that leaves me with Winifred. (Or Winnie the atishoo)

Don’t think about sneezing or coughing near her or she will don her HASMAT suit or go into quarantine.

She is part of the soapy gestapo and is the front line of germ control.

Founders of the “hand washing watch” of the company, they see themselves as the last line of defense in the war against germs. She will call in “sick” at least once a month and talk about the fact she is about to be ill in preparation for it then talk after as the inquest must continue.

There are field hospitals less equipped than her desk. It is so reassuring to know whatever whatever happens, we are covered.

If I find myself too near her I will just clear my throat a couple of times and she will scurry off.

She also, always has countless, mental, olde worlde solutions as an alternative. Celery up the bum to stop diarrhoea or smearing urine on your face for spots or whatever it is.

If you feel a little under the weather she will have you dead in no time.

She makes the office so much worse as all the other nutjobs around me develop and refine their own annoying and disturbing methods to mask out the original nuisance by creating their own irritating sounds.

No wonder I’m like I am.




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