Doing battle with daily dragons

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

9 to 5

In light of what I hope is a job windfall, I thought I take a page out of and find out what the top ten career killers were. This is mildly ludicrous for me as I’ve never had anything that anyone could term “a career” and don’t ever plan to start, thank you very much. I want to listen to rock and roll, make shiny things and have babies for the rest of my life, so a career can go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. But, in the interests of fun, I thought perhaps I could shoehorn my current working situation into the dictates set down by Moneybags Magazine.

“Know What’s Expected”

Have a pulse. Have full use of extremities. Count to 10. Know the difference between purple and yellow. Know not to ever use the phrase “Boy Howdy!” for any reason.

“Money Isn’t Everything”- “Don't create the impression that you're working just for a paycheck.”

Ah, but it is, and I am. Why else would I have subjected myself to 2 years in a small, cinderblock box full of shiny with a boss who’s paranoid enough to pay £50 a month in terrorism insurance?

“Leave Gossip to the Supermarket Tabloids”

Me- OMG, you’ll never guess what.

Me- What? I’m dying to know!

Me- My boss is a psychotic passive aggressive and my co-worker could give Coronation Street a run for it’s money in the personal drama stakes! Plus, she’s stalking me!

Me- No way!

Me- Way.

Customer- Am I interrupting something?

Me- I cannot even tell you how much you aren’t.

“Flubbing Deadlines”

Most of you know that I live on a boat. But there are three kinds of people who live on boats. There are simply those who are forced to live on a boat due to stupidly high area house prices, retired folk who spend all of their time boodling up and down the canals and talking about their grandchildren and then there are “lifestylers”. If you’ve ever walked along the canal, you’ve seen them. Dreadlocks, piercings, batiqued clothing, battered hats with feathers in them, all in boats that look like they were used in the Hundred Years War for kennelling Irish Wolfhounds. There’s also usually some fairly pungent smelling smoke drifting out of the windows.

“Galetea, WTF does this have to do with flubbing deadlines?”

Patience, gentle reader. It’s just my “style”.


Being a shop that sells delicate, shiny things, we also have to be ready to REPAIR delicate shiny things when people apparently give them to their pets to play with.

“I don’t know HOW it broke. I was just wearing it and it fell off!”

“Um, there are some teeth marks in it.”

The guy who does our repairs for us is a “lifestyler”. We can tell people their shiny will be ready in two weeks till we’re blue in the face, but it’s my belief that he often gets so high he can’t find his way out of the boat.

“Cubicle Etiquette Counts”

The whole SHOP is a cubicle. I’ve never really tested the limits of Ms. Personality’s patience with Dilbert calendars or anything.

“Isolation Leaves You Vulnerable”

Isolation keeps me sane.

The Infiltrator- I’m so lonely since I cheated on my husband. I want a night out. Is your husband gigging tonight? Where? Wouldn’t it be fun if I came along?

Me- I’m not going to the gig. I never go to gigs. I like to sit at home in the dark.

“Don’t Climb Ego Mountain”

Without my Id ropes and Superego carabiners, I wouldn’t dream of it.

“Don’t Take Credit For Other’s Work”

Customer- This has been repaired terribly! It’s even more bent than it was before!

Me- I think my boss did it.

“Office Romance Invites Catastrophe”

A deafening silence.