Yesterday

woke up early Saturday morning for another stoopid day at the HQ. things to do list: number one: take a cold shower so my eyes would be popping out so fresh. things to do list: number one: undone.

what is it with beds that lure you deeper into the furrows and folds of a cosy, warm duvet, makes you hit the snooze button ten times after it first woke you and however uncomfortable the position you're sleeping it's just ten times better than the prospect of getting up? i have a set routine on Saturday mornings. that is to wake up as late as possible, jump into the shower and dress in the space of 30minutes to get the bus to work (an hour too long journey that just makes you weep for your bed again). this routine has been shot to pieces since little sis came to visit in January. i'm bunking off work these days like it's my own company... luckily for me i have a superb (and slightly absent-minded) boss. every little helps. it's the b*st*rd from the other team that gets me going.

take for instance, today. i'd call in to say i would be late (on purpose, but they didn't have to know that, furthermore i always always make a point of calling in as they require). my boss didn't answer so all calls went straight to his voicemail. i was strolling along albeit not leisurely, 2minutes to go before my start time into the designated plateau when the b*st*rd was making an act of looking at his watch and shaking his head. now he has always found a way to try and talk to me, i say talk, but it's more like intentional verbal battering.

it went like this:

"you're late."

"i've called to say i'd be late (you fat b*st*rd)."

"when? who? i never got your call." (almost shouting at this point. he can't speak civilly.)

"i called S's line. i left a message (nosy bloody parker that you are.)"

"well, he's not in. you should've called me. or anybody else. and you can't just leave a message if you're late. you need to speak to me. "

i know that he thinks he's God so i decided to challenge him (that's what you do with God all the time, don't you? only you know God's more forgiving than a p*ick like this guy.)

"well i didn't know that.. (i do but it's fun to feign ignorance) no S never said he won't be in.. no, he never told me to call you, why would i have your number? why should i call you? anyway i'm here now."

all this in view of both the teams on the plateau AND a manager from the other side of the building.

this p*g of a guy is only 23 years old. and his attitude stinks already. plus he's short, fat and wears glasses. should you automatically feel sorry for him? no way. it so doesn't help that all the other team managers are twice as old. just makes him puff his chest out more. rumors are flying about that at the last office awards he had his entire team nominate him for best TM. twice. he won by default as none of the other teams bothered to fill in the bloody form.

so yeah, you can say i'm pissed off. my saturday was more or less the same as every other saturday since i've been here. and i can't believe it's a year now since i started at this hellhole! got home at seven, shot and drained as per, and hit my long-lost lover (albeit only lost for this morning) for a deep cleansing sleep. at 8.30pm.

hence me typing now accompanied with the chirping birds and an empty street outside. and i wanted to talk about a screaming guy i had on the phone instead, but that'll have to wait till the next sixty seconds i'm allowed.