Thursday, September 6, 2007

Instead Of A Bum - Which Is What I Am

Today Puck was suprisingly nice to me.

After the boss called us into a meeting and informed us we should all start looking for new jobs, he took the opportunity to inform me about his involvement in the local am dram society.

Apparently their autumn production is a classic with a twist and would I be interested in coming to see it. No, I would not. I'd rather stick forks in my eyes than be witness to the desperate flailings of a flock of secondary school drama teachers, four accountants and the vicar's wife as they try to bring "Dickens to life!", whilst giving off a slight stench of self-pity with that look in their eyes of, "I coulda been a contender, I coulda been somebody". But, I allowed Puck to continue and faked my enthusiasm, as I like to fake most things at work.

"Classic with a twist?" I ask.
"Yeah, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang set in the future."
"Oh..."
"Chitty Chitty Bang Bang will be played by a Vauxhall Corsa."
"Er..."
"But don't tell everyone 'cos I'm not sure we've got all the legal side sorted yet."
"Oh, don't worry, I won't be telling anyone."

And there was me thinking his contant talk of "the players" was somehow in reference to his male sexual prowess.

Monday, September 3, 2007

Special Needs: Your Departmental Description Proceeds You...

This weekend I had to attend an infamous "staff night out". I wouldn't have minded but it wasn't even with my colleagues, it was with the special needs team from next door. One of them, whom I've nicknamed Vlad the Impaler due to his enthusiastic use of the stapler, had spotted the iceberg and was abandoning ship so, as is tradition, a bender was organised. I don't know how I managed to get myself invited but I guess a few chats with him in the kitchen about how the microwave stinks of fish constitutes a relationship.

Now I've had my mind made up about the special needs team ever since one of them got their tie stuck in the fax machine last year so the idea of spending a night in their company seemed foolhardy at best. But I was willing to push all preconceived notions to one side (with the help of my good friends Jack and Gordon) and just be all care free and shit. Yes, the evening would be a success and I would build bridges with this notorious gaggle of work shy bastards.

We met at 7 and most of them were already more drunk than I could hope to get in an entire weekend. The evening started to look gloomy. They explained how they manage to charge most of their stationary orders to our account; I laughed politely. They told me how they always use our teams milk, sugar and teabags because they forget to buy their own and find it hilarious when I blow my top about our vanishing supplies; I smiled weakly. The evening started to cry into it's beer. They told me how they were three months behind on producing their new booklets for school admissions, which impacts on my job in ways I don't dare imagine; I stared at them blankly. The evening contemplated taking a suicidal leap from Beachy Head.

Then Rohyponol Ray showed up.

Rohyponol Ray is one of their senior managers who makes my all-time top ten list of 'men who make my skin crawl like a maggot orgy'. He looks like a second hand cars salesman who sawdusts the mileage, not someone with a social care degree. I've heard him say the following things (fortunately not to me):

"I want to worship your body."
"She's protecting that small boy. It's despicable."
"These aspergers kids aren't meeting my targets. Tell them to get their act together."
"It's not my problem if you live next door to a paedophile, love."
"I wish Jeffrey Archer would get back into politics. At least he was honest about lying."

He entered the pub like one might enter an ITV quiz show and proclaimed he was here to "get traumatised", but first he had to chat up the "pod-pod ding-dong" behind the bar. The evening slit it's wrists and overdosed on paracetamol. The coroner was called.

Saturday, September 1, 2007

You Brought This On Yourself

As previously mentioned I'm exposed to stupid children's names on a daily basis. It brings me great joy but then great sadness instantaneously. But something happened yesterday that I'd be hoping, nay PRAYING, for. I've waited a whole year and it finally came...brace yourselves...yes, yesterday I entered a child into our system called HARRY POTTER. I had tears in my eyes. God bless you, Mr and Mrs Potter, although I will be reporting you to social services.