work sux

I can't blog from work, no internet access. Which is a good thing or I'd have been fired for sure from the things I want to say about my thick-as-pig-shit-drying-in-the-sun workmates. So I've started emailing myself some rants during the day.

I know I can email update the blog directly but I think a few hours space is a good thing and might let me keep my job a bit longer..

Anyway, here's today's. Oh, apologies for the lack of swearing - I've had to reign it back to get the emails past the filter:

I'm annoyed. Nothing new there since I seem to be perpetually irritated.

This time I'm annoyed at my workmates. Also nothing remotely new, some days the best fun I have during work is imagining which medieval torture method matches up best with which workmate.

My peeve of the morning is people treating me like a moron and wasting my time. Unfortunately this seems to be what a number of people at BDM are employed specifically to do.

For instance one of my 'delightful' co-workers (who I've nicknamed the Queen of Spades) insisted on taking me on a 15 minute walk around the building to explain how to do something that would have taken 20 seconds to simply tell me.

Doesn't sound like much I know: but the reason this took so horribly long was because she has to take the lift, even to go just one floor. Since there's only one lift in the building this means standing around waiting all the damn time, and then huddling in a cramped lift with someone who's invariably either a) not changed their socks in recent memory, or b) decided to bathe in a lake of deodorant before coming to work. Doesn't the Geneva Convention on biological & chemical warfare cover civilians too?

Just as an aside - does anyone really believe perfume/deodorant advertising? I mean do you really think that if you spray on a bucketload of that crap that men/women will fall all over you/acquiesce to your every need? Man that pisses me off. I have to get my nostrils seared back to Vietnam because you're gullible enough to think that no matter that you're a psoriatic moron with the eating habits of a warthog on crack you're going to pull the babes because you smell like 'Lynx: Africa'. Despite the fact that lynxes themselves probably smell very strongly of cat piss.

Ahem.

I wish I could swear properly. A few judiciously places epithets would round out this diatribe nicely. Ah, I'm sure you can put 'em in yourself. Every second word in some places..

But I digress. Often.

In fact I've lost my train of thought completely.

Oh sod it, I'd better look like I actually do something here. Although that thought leads me to another 'issue' I have: I had a really good day yesterday. Well, good as in productive, not good as in fun, rewarding, enjoyable, stimulating, even-remotely-interesting, etc. I worked till a bit later and managed to clear a large chunk of the huge backlog of deaths that awaited my return from NZ.

So today at work I got congratulated by several of my bosses for doing 108 registrations. Apparently it's a record. Actually I'm faintly embarrassed by it - I thought I was goofing off for some of the afternoon. And before anyone thinks I'm tooting my own horn (I'm not that flexible) I also don't think it's that hard to do. You just have to turn off your brain, develop a glazed expression and breath through your mouth..

Which is what I should get back to right now.