Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Den of Bitches

I left home at 7.55. Do you believe it? Me. The guy who used to get out of bed after that, some mornings. I was at work by 8.25. Ah the sunny deserted boondocks of Tullamarine. Ah the barren, semi deserted wastelands, on the fringe of the suburbs… not quite city, not quite country. It is that part of the city where it evolved with cars in mind, where the roads are wide and there are roundabouts rather than traffic lights. There are wide verges on either side of the road. It all looks purpose built. Read beige. If we only had cars at the genesis of the city, we would have roundabouts through out the city just like it. And no doubt one day, when the property developers get their way and have replaced all the old buildings with tilt-slab, we will.

I closed my car door in the non-descript car park, gazed across the non-descript cars to the non-descript building, sucked in a breath of fresh air, straightened my suit jacket, and headed to the front door.

I have to say, the air is kind of fresh and crispy... out there, way out where.

It’s like a library in the office, everybody in their corrals as though that is exactly how human beings should exist. It honestly makes me sad that this is what my working life is. Why wasn’t I an explorer, or an archeologist, or a rock star, or an emperor? Any occupation that doesn’t fit into an open plan office?

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“How are you?”

“Oy’m tired today,” said Smoking Brenda. “I taped the funeral and after everything was done, I sat up and watched it and I didn’t gyet to byed until after 1am.”

Oh yes, the death of a footy star.

She doesn’t really know what she is doing and she is instructing from that point of view. So there is no overview, no run down of the company structure, just instructions on the hop, as she is nervously doing the processing, instructing me and earning her "higher duties" no doubt.

She asked me to deal with some paperwork for the monthly figures today. She is scared of Eve, who will be back on Tuesday week and will be gungho to get stuck into the monthly figures.

“Can you do those?” No explanation, no expansion of what needed to be done.

So, I sorted the paperwork. I thought she meant she wanted me to sort it for the month end journals.

She asked me when I was done.

I said that I was.

And it was only that she made some comment about a spreadsheet, which I followed up with her, that she gave me expanded instructions.

“The spreadsheet?”

“Haven’t you entered them on the spreadsheet?”

“Um?”

“This here, don’t you remember you’ve already done this?”

I didn’t really. I kind of did when she showed it to me. I think it was the first thing that I did when I got there on Monday. She opened the spreadsheet, or it was already open. I think she said do this, no explanation of what it was. Three days later she expects me to remember. Just like that, one half-arse explanation and I’m supposed to remember. Wow. That’s pretty tough.

“You are going to have to think on your feet, as when Eve is back she will just throw it at you and expect you to know it.”

Smoking Brenda makes Eve sound like a bitch from hell.

After that comment, I truly hoped that it is only a matter of weeks that I am there, not months. Please. Nothing they do makes sense, please let me head back to the city where the normal people are.

I wondered, if it was 2 months, if I could say to Jack I don’t want to go back.

"So why does she do all of this?"

Smoking Brenda just looked exasperated at me, as though she'f been over it all already.

"I told you. It's what she does. I'm changing things, but I can't do it all at once."

Smoking Brenda said to me today that she wanted to get as much done this week so she doesn’t turn into a bitch next week when she is completing end of month.

Yes, I thought, that is exactly what it is here. I get it now. You and Eve are both bitches. I have strayed into the viper’s den. You are a couple of cunts butting heads.

I think this is going to be tricky.

My first assignment out and I’ve been place with the evil bitches who want to out do each other. I could get really hurt in the wash of this.

Yay

Still, what is it that they say, about the things that don’t kill you?

Hands up who think I am a whiney little bitch? Because that is pretty much what Sam said when I told him the bitch story.

“Shut up and get to work like everybody else,” said Sam. “And I don’t want to hear your winey little make-my-ears-bleed complaints.”

“But why am I sent to places where the idiots are?”

“Because that is life and life is like that.”

“Why can’t I be sent to the CBD to play with the nice people?”

“And that went so well for you with your last job?”

“Boo hoo,” I say. “Boo hoo.”

“No boo hoos”

“Ha!”

“Suck it up princess.”

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