Young male Caucasian found in his room with a ruptured stomach, which shows signs of an explosion. It was noted that the walls and surrounding area were covered with blood and part digested chocolate and a mars bar was sticking out of his mouth.
His parents are said to be saddened by this, as they never realised he had an eating disorder. The Tesco vans that arrived everyday unloading chocolaty good treats, they put down to being just a phase he was going through.
The cacophony of sound erupted around me followed by a thunderous bang and an explosion of pain that coursed throughout my entire body. My head spun, yet despite the pain and disorientation I refused to open my eyes.
GOD!!! How I hate Monday’s I contemplated as I finally gave in and unscrunched my eyes giving an evil glance in the direction of my alarm clock. I gingerly rubbed my arse upon which I’d rather heavily landed when I fell out of bed. Monday’s had obviously been designed by an evil genius who plagued by his own insecurities and shortcomings had felt the need to curse every generation that followed. From his penthouse flat in hell he can enjoy every week a full 24 hrs of the world’s misery as the different time zones awake to MONDAY. The only people lucky enough to escape this curse would be those freaks of nature who actually enjoyed working. Those few who couldn’t get to sleep on a Sunday night because they were just so excited about waking up, just so that they could skip to work whilst whistling the latest pop tune. Not that I’m bitter you understand, and the thought of lining these people up in front of a firing squad and shooting stray dogs at them had never crossed my mind. Oh and of course the thought of pummelling them with shredded wheat to see if anyone could survive three had never made me smile on the way to work eitherJ
Anyway I digress, as this wasn’t just any Monday this was a special Monday. Oh yes it was the first Monday of the rest of my week, which of course is infinitely different from the last Monday of my previous week. Well actually it wasn’t but I’ll continue with my story anyway.
My alarm clock had been set with precision to allow enough time for maximum panic to set in before leaving the house in a rush guaranteed to make me sweat buckets and therefore negate the 10 minutes allotted showertime to get rid of my night aroma. This alarm was of course 5 minutes after the original alarm that had been set just so that I could spend 5 minutes preparing to be shocked and appalled by the second alarm. Now the precision morning machine clicked into gear as Tazlike I whirled through the bathroom, brushing, watering, scraping and deodorising until I looked an acceptable mess. The trick is to finish getting ready at least a minute late so that you have to rush to the station and therefore if you are ready in time a distraction has to be found such as a really riveting article in the newspaper.
Commuters left stunned as train turns up on time. Leaflets have been handed out on a local train to be used as fans after several people complained of dizziness. This was later attributed to being symptoms of shock. Rail companies have reacted quickly to this situation issuing a statement “we would like to assure all our patrons that this event is out of the ordinary and we will do our best to make sure a similar situation doesn’t arise in the future.” Rail workers were later spotted piling leaves on to railway tracks.
These are not the Monkey’s you’re looking for
Once at the train station it is time to engage in humanities favourite hobby “People Watching”. There is no greater pleasure than the fascination in another person’s oddities whether it is cosmetic, fashion or the all-important W.T.F.A.Y.D factor. Today there was the usual cross section of society: -
Old ladies who felt the need to use a shovel to apply a foundation that could easily hold a 10 storey skyscraper on it
13-year-old schoolgirl who felt it was a good idea to base her look on “Pretty Woman”.
Travelling Wilbury’s are the strange individuals who you always find on a train, no matter what the time or destination. They usually have Hiking boots on and a rucksack, as well as the mandatory woolly jumper. Where these people are going nobody ever knows and most probably neither do they. They just travel around the country as part of a government plot to migrate unemployment figures.
Middle aged businessmen under the delusion of still being cool and hip. There’s usually a couple of them and they will swap wild tales of knocking back a few bevies the night before and really let themselves go by loosening their ties. This crazy wild behaviour is obviously not how role models for the youth of today should be acting.
Street crazies you can generally spot a mile off, as they will be the ones talking to themselves. They will also usually have a habit of exhaling sharply at random intervals. A carrier bag is a must have accessory for the street crazy and they can often be seen modelling last years “tesco” bag. If you are especially lucky on your travels you will come across the barking street crazy who gets so worked up in their heated debate with themselves that they would emit a feral bark every now and then. The most important rule with these characters is to never make eye contact because once you do you enter their world.Their world is a place of fear and distortion, which upon entering time slows and only you and them exist and your body noticeably grows colder. It is rumoured that people have had their souls sucked right out of them in these circumstances although it might just be the smell frying their brains.
Young girl ogglers who try to pass themselves off as respectable old men. Self-explanatory this one they just stare at women’s chests and have a strange look in their eyes.
Nu-metal kids who you can spot as they’ll be wearing baggy cargo pants and a hooded top and have a skateboard under their arm. They’re only generally annoying because they think they’re so cool and invented the whole cool music thing.
Now that I’ve been waiting at the station for 10 minutes the train is pulling in and its time to fight with the person who’s just strolled onto the platform to get onto the train and find a seat. This involves use of sly tactics such as dropping the shoulder for a classic shoulder barge or the rather clinical ankle tap to knock them off balance. Once you're on the train It's time to spend the journey avoiding eye contact with anyone on the train, which is standard train etiquette. It's always a good idea to come prepared for train journeys with a discman as the alternative is listening to train conversation. This is the dull pointless chatter of those people who only know each other because they catch the train together every day. The banter revolves around the weather and what each other had or are having for tea tonight! If your lucky you will also get interrupted by a train conductor who in between contemplating his next strike holiday and the hardships and unfairness of his difficult job will check tickets. I’m not saying that they should all be sacked and replaced by monkeys. This would free up zoo space to allow more Japanese tourists in thus helping tourism. That monkey’s would again have a worthwhile source of employment now that clay models in PG tips adverts have replaced them thus causing a sharp rise in monkey unemployment figures. They could carry around organs and thus entertain the commuter who is generally pissed off with train delays arising from poor monkey operation of train doors. Of course I wouldn’t condone this action as why would train companies pay peanuts when they can pay people more than a graduate to do the monkeys job.
Office worker startled from slumbering at his desk massacred everyone in the building. Late night computer gaming is said to be the cause of this atrocity. It was also noted that he’d been consuming large quantities of caffeine. An eyewitness says that they heard the man screaming “Take me to your leader.” And “anyone know which button works the bazooka?” The incident was brought to a closure after the man jumped off the roof and failed to fly.
Just your Friendly Neighbourhood Officeman
Depression falls as I trudge ominously towards my cage and the weight of the world appears to be upon my shoulders. Mind wanders thinking about all the other stuff that I could be doing instead such as supermarket trolley racing or base-jumping. There is something unequally discomforting about your first glance of your workplace. No matter how hard you try to psyche yourself up for the inevitable stomach churn you can never quite manage a smile. Of course avoiding tears and not grabbing a near by lamppost and refusing to budge is always a bonus. Although grabbing a stray passer by and offering them money to beat you up so that you can have a day off work is a noble thing indeed. A quick glance at fellow cellmates entering the building shows that you’re not alone in feeling disdain at your lack of options for the day.
Now it might just be me but places of work are definitely built in a different time dimension. Once you cross the threshold the normal laws of time no longer exist and a day in work is actually equal to at least 2 days on the outside. Whenever you leave the building for dinner, have you ever noticed that time flies and it seems like no time at all and you've got to go back to work? How often have you heard the phrase " the weekend just flew by!"? The logical explanation to this is that your weekend didn't actually speed up but that you are just used to the elongated days that you suffer at work. This would explain why you're always so tired after a day at work because you've actually been working 15 hours or so instead of the 8 hours that you thought you had. Another reason perhaps why coffee at work is always stronger than normal? It’s also an obvious explanation why your bosses are always on business trips or off playing golf.
There are many anomalies of the workplace another of, which becomes apparent as soon as you enter the building. One of these is work colleagues and the work personality disorder. Now for some strange reason once someone enters their place of work they act completely differently than they would in normal non-work situations. This I think is attributed to the fact that you’re forced to get along with people that perhaps you don’t like and therefore this creates a whole different language both verbal and body. The way you have to pass pleasantries with people even though they know they're not sincere and you know that they know. Also why is it so hard for some people to smile? I mean everyone hates work accept of course those outlined earlier. You’re there and have no choice so might as well make the best of it. Smiling never hurt anybody and is always a useful tool. Of course drooling at work has never taken off though hmmm. The workplace is made up of a cornucopia of personalities:-
The plodder – They are just there to see their lives through with as little hassle as possible. They lack ambition and therefore will only move up when people feel sorry for them and the amount of time they have been with company. If you ever have a problem then these are the people to avoid, as a change to their routine will throw them into a flutter.
The sycophant – they will try and worm their way to the top probably less capable than the plodder but with an abundance of ambition. They will kiss ass morning noon and night and will volunteer for everything making sure anything they do is done with a hail of trumpets and a flurry of e-mails to everyone and their dog
Clown – there is always one joker who likes to be the centre of attention and uplifts the office with recollection’s of the crazy things they’ve been up to.
The kid – the junior of the office given all the shitty tasks and therefore bitter and twisted about it. They are generally well liked by the rest of the office who feel sorry for them and remember doing their time. This aside they are still glad to palm off their photocopying on them.
Freak - You can usually find one of these in most offices, It’s the strange individual who just doesn't fit in. They're a pitiful creature who is usually the butt of most office jokes although probably unaware of this.
Enigma- The talented but shy worker who should move up the ranks quicker than the sycophant but isn’t prepared to pucker up. They are generally well liked for their ability to get on with things and actually know what they are doing, Usually made up of graduates who are a bit angry at their years of study still leaving them in a position below that of someone who left school at 16. They are generally pissed off at this and are more likely to write a book about it;-)
Now one of the most important factors of your working life as everyone knows is caffeine and the drinking of and avoidance of making it. A large proportion of your working day will be spent in this endeavour with actual work only being a distraction. There are numerous ploys and tactics, which have been pored over and honed to perfection. The classic is the head down at the appropriate time and looks deeply involved with your work. It is also useful to occasionally moan at how busy you are and a couple of tuts and scratches of head never go amiss. Another good ploy is too come back with coffee that can only be drunk by those wishing to sober up quickly and therefore you will not be asked to go again. It should be noted that drinking of this substance to sober up after a late night on the lash is an obvious sign to your boss that you have just spent a night kissing porcelain. It’s perhaps best to just grin like an idiot and have a window open. This is of course if sleeping under your desk isn’t an option. The problem in my case is not so much the chore of actually making the coffee it’s the disaster in waiting of bringing it back. Now my skills at coffee carrying can only be surpassed by those of a duck. I concentrate with bomb diffuser intensity ignoring all around me intent on getting from A to B with minimum spillage. Sweat begins to furrow my brow and a definite clamminess over runs my body as every ounce of my being is given up to not making a fool of myself. It only takes a second to trip and fall hurling crockery over all a sundry but a lifetime to forget the embarrassment you feel.
Into the final hour of the day and your body starts getting into home mode and the itch to be off begins to drive me crazy. Clever ploys are needed to maximise time movement towards the impending sprint out of the building. Lack of sleep from the previous weekend means that my eyes are now feeling like lead shutters and small teams of huskies are required to keep them open. Shuffling of chaos from one tray to the next with periodic shakes of the head and admonishments is also necessary at this point. This convinces your self that you are providing the company with a service just perhaps not the one that they wanted. Chaos management is an important skill that is perfected by most people as children when they make sure that they keep their parents as busy as possible through strategic placement of toys. To an uninformed onlooker it would appear that the child is just messy and just leaving a mess as they go. This skill in later life allows you to contain a constant state of stress and anxiety by similar placement of obstacles. Items such as letters you really should have dealt with before but it was just too easy then. Or people that you need to call back but don't because the sound of their voice might send you on a killing spree.
The last five minutes is spent agonising over whether anyone would notice you leaving early and if through telekinesis you can move the clock hand. My last few minutes of torture are spent looking to see if anyone else is leaving so that I'm not the first. It’s a tricky balance between wanting to not appear over keen to leave and my actual over keenness to leave. You then execute the perfected shut down of all computer programs and throwing of stationary into drawers. With a quick farewell to any work colleagues that I think will notice and a skip in my step I stampede through the building knocking unaware cleaners out of the way. This isn’t to say that your general office cleaner is dozy but that if they didn’t get in your way what fun would they have? Obviously a bit miffed that they’re starting work as you finish, strategic bin bags and mops are left to catch the over eager leaver. A fond farewell to the receptionist and out the security doors. Once outside the cloud of depression lifts and time speeds up to normal time, unless of course you have a mad dash for public transport where time always seems to conspire against me.
There a few things in life worse than having to get public transport home after you've been imprisoned in work all day. Apart from the inevitable long wait for one you actually have to know the number as well. Now being the nice clean boy that I am the apparent lack of cleanliness by my bus buddies is a worrying concern, which dubious stains on the seats seem to verify. There are usually large numbers of old folk on the bus no matter what the time of day. Even though they are off all day and can commute at any time, they feel the need to get in my way. I think they must have an underground militant biddy association for the harassment and general annoyance of me. The journey then proceeds at snail pace with every conceivable pitfall being walked into. All the lights on the journey are obviously red and of course cars will go through lights to block up junctions so that when the lights change you can't move anyway. There will be inconsiderate people waiting at bus stops and actually wanting the bus to stop and pick them up. They will then proceed to pay the driver in pennies or the more annoying does this bus go to Edinburgh? Erm nooooo, you're in Leeds please use some common sense!!! Finally the bus gets near enough to the train station to allow me to get off and leg it there. A mad dash through the city then ensues with numerous glances in death's direction as I take my life in shaky hands so that I don't miss the train that could save me 15 minutes. It's a strange quirk of human nature, this need to save a few precious minutes of life even though you risk losing all of it. This mixed with the adrenaline rush of scant survival creates a heady cocktail of emotions on your kamikaze pursuit of the train. It's a strange quirk of human nature, this need to save a few precious minutes of life even though you risk losing all of it. I think it comes from the belief that if you don't rush home you will miss a monumental life event such as a naked woman standing near her window without realising the curtains were open. I often believe the world would be a better place if we all lived without clothes but then I see myself in the mirror after a bath and realise... perhaps that’s not the best idea in the world.
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