Once in the lounge room, I had an annoying pain in my back, which made me feel a little poohwah. Stupid thing. It is my bad posture when I sit too long at my laptop writing this crap. You know such things push my hypochondria buttons. Must think positive thoughts, must think health, health, health, sweetie.
I headed into work early. There was the most beautiful sunrise. I took a couple of photos on my way, (they must still be on my camera.) The sun was shining, by the time I got to work. It was a glorious walk to work.
Fat Guts Carol Brady and Obese Olwyn were both in when I got there. Fat Guts Carol Brady is ingratiating herself into the company still, and Olwyn has no life, she practically admits it with everything she ever says.
I pretty much only work with women and 60% of them are fat, to obese, the same ratio of society in general. So I am not so much commenting on the failing of women, but commenting on the failing of society in general when I talk about my working life, it just happens to be populated with the female of the species.
Kirin tried to cancel her meeting with Paddington Bear, but he wouldn't even entertain the thought.
“I’ve been off for a week, what does he expect?” she said.
Oh, don’t drag me into this, I thought.
“He’s trying to make me resign, I tell you,” she said. “That’s his game, I know it.”
It is his game, I thought.
“He’s trying to make me sick, isn’t he?”
I don’t care, I thought. Actually, I do care. I get on fine with Kirin, I don’t want her to get sick and leave. It might be better with somebody else, sure, but it could always be worse too. Kirin’s okay with me, I can work with her just fine.
Why she doesn't go off on stress leave altogether I am not sure. She says he is awful to her. She says he singles her out for less favourable treatment. People need to get over their prejudice against workcover, it is a viable alternative to working.
Fatty Snoop Cake Lady made it back in today and she managed to last the whole day. She didn’t get in until kind of late, 9ish. “Good morning,” she said in that little girl voice of hers. Oh that little, fragile girl voice of hers that, I feel, hides something deeply unsettling.
She is the analyst, the detective, the auditor, she has no control over her own life, so she has to exert control over other people to make herself feel better about herself. It is pure Freud. (or is Freud just the desire to lick your mother’s snatch?) She builds herself up by professionally blowing out the candles of others.
I heard the crinkle of snack wrappers coming from her desk all day. She, actually, never stops eating. Crinkle crinkle, crinkle crinkle, was all I heard through out the day. Macadamia nuts, savoury rice crackers and nutty health bars. Sugar and carbohydrates and fat, way to go babe, you will be dead in no time.
She told us that she has a Goggomobil and that she would love to go to Bavaria next year for the anniversary of something to do with the car. “I’m the woman with the crazy little car.” Points to her. Interesting car. She goes up in my esteem. (Who has ever read Peter Carey’s Bliss? Who remembers the image of {was it} Harry jammed into his Fiat 500? That was the image that came into my head.)
It was all drama with Kirin today. The performance catch up, presumably with the independent witness consumed us all day. I’m guessing that was what was happening, the independent witness, although Kirin had been strangely quiet on that fact. The talk of it went on all day, however. She was completely absorbed in writing out her briefs. This is the thing with her, there is always a reason why she can’t be doing work, there is always something else she just has to be doing, deadlines, or no deadlines. That is usually when she dumps it on me? Well, not so much me, up to this point, but she used to dump it on Mazz and in the end it was Mazz’s fed-up open refusal that I remember most.
Kirin was nervous trying to get her answers completed. Security. The liability problem. And a third thing, I can’t remember now.
“He’s trying to get me on anything he can,” she said. Her last words before she went to her maker.
I did end of month stuff all day. I heaved a sigh as I entered all of my end of month reports back into my report writer, which I lost with the great login fiasco.
I got on top of all of the things I had to post at the end of the month. I nearly got them all done, even with setting them all up again. It should be a doddle next month.
I got on top of the emails. Oh, the fucking emails. Jesus fuck me Christ? What a bunch of whiney babies these people are. The emails never stop, the enquiries never stop. Always someone wanting me to do something for them. It gets to the point where I have to spend my time vetting the emails for what actually comes under my JD. I think it is because I try to find the answer for people, rather than just palming them off on to somebody else. If you like, I am being punished for being efficient. (I’m sure this is an exaggeration written purely for the effect it has on my blog)
If only Kirin would answer the emails she had to answer.
We ate stewed meat and turnip and carrots and rice for dinner. “Is this paleo?” I asked.
“Ha ha,” said Sam.
I’m thinking we should give paleo a shot, if it means loosing weight. I could drop a lazy few kilos right about now.
Mark called about his new venture in country (name). He wants me to invest money into it. It would be interesting. Maybe? It would nice to transition from working income to investment income. Oh it is to dream, to leave all the huskies behind and to become independent.
No comments:
Post a Comment