Monday In The Office

I'm up at 6am with a coffee signed into work. Boris has asked me to go in to sort out the fuck up, actually, two fuck ups now, they are piling up.

I'm not gong in early though for that, but I still want to start early and leave early, and this way I can.

8.25am. I leave for work. Of course, it is raining, as if to drive the point home, of the misery of going into the office. Drag yourself to the office in the rain getting wet, or pull up a chair in your study at home and get on with your work? Oh boy, it’s a hard choice.

I catch the tram to Brunswick Street. There is a Brunswick Street tram waiting when I get off.

All the miseries are on the tram this time of the day, usually I come in much earlier when I go to the office to avoid their sad faces. We should all have held out longer for working from home, we’re idiots.

What am I going to do about working from home? I don’t know, just refuse to come into the office.

I take my jumper off at Spring Street. I’m beginning to sweat on this rainy, overcast, muggy day. It’s humid and inclement, not a combination I hate so much.

8.43am. I get a seat at Russell Street. At least the aircon is working on the tram, the cool air feels good.

I’m a fraction too early, considering Boris doesn’t get in until 9.15am. I can’t even dawdle because of the rain.

We get together with the big boss, 10am. He seems cool with it all. We have suggestions for both problems, strongly disputing that the second problem is anything of our doing. We have proof of that.

It goes fine. Big Pooh Bar is fine, CFO of the Southern Hemisphere, isn't pissed off.

I leave at 3pm, as normal.