10AM: Arrived at my workplace somewhere in
10-10:30AM: Scanning emails while suspecting there is something more important I should really be doing. Leave messages re non-urgent matters on a couple of people’s phones.
1030AM: Realise that no, there is nothing more important I should be doing. Occupy myself with some papers in vain attempt to look busy. Give in, and occupy myself by staring into middle distance instead. Realise that this perhaps isn’t having desired effect of communicating purposefulness and endeavour to assembled colleagues.
10:35AM: Gradually becoming overcome by vague sense of unease, bordering on outright nausea.
10:40AM: Salvation! There is a man at reception who needs to see me with regard to an urgent although unspecified matter.
10:42AM: Man at reception dealt with. Start to write ‘things to do’ list but am distracted by rogue idea of escaping to my ‘secret’ office somewhere else in Westside (it officially belongs to an organization I work with, but I’m the only person who ever uses it) and spending long lunchtime updating too-long-neglected blog.
10:45AM: Commencement of battle to the death between work ethic and rogue secret-office blog-writing idea.
10:47AM: On scooter, headed for ‘secret’ office. Experience return of sense of purpose as vague but not unpleasant tingling sensation. Stop of at Co-op for ham sandwich and bananas to fuel writing session.
11:00AM: Inserting my very own key into door of deserted room, deep within bowels of rambling Victorian terraced house longago bequeathed to municipality by merchant benefactor. Ancient (possibly even Victorian) computer whirs into action at press of ‘on’ button. Gaze out of non-Health-and-Safety-compliant sash windows at expansive bequeathed greenery, reveling in rare moment of stolen solitude.
11:15AM: Searching for inspiration. Decide on thoughtful post based on recent chance viewing of BBC4 retransmission of 1959 General Election Coverage.
12:15PM: Retransmitted 1959 General Election Coverage proving less inspiring subject matter than it appears. Delete first paragraph, for twelfth time, and start writing it again, with the words in a slightly different order. It doesn’t look any better however many amusing references to Harold McMillan are crammed into it.
12:30PM: Ancient (possibly Victorian) computer crashes. Groundbreaking if amateur reflections concerning retransmitted BBC coverage of 1959 General Election (fourteenth draft) lost to future students of Post-War British Political History.
1PM. Ancient (possibly Victorian) computer crashes for third time in quick succession. Press the ‘off’ button to put it out of its misery, while reflecting that this is perhaps the reason no-one but me uses the ‘secret’ office hidden inside the rambling Victorian terrace somewhere else in the Westside. Get back on scooter and head back to my main workplace.
1:30PM Arrive back at main workplace…. to urgent email from boss demanding communication to all key parties by first class post!
1:30PM to 2:30PM: Engaged in battle with defective printer and own defective mailmerge skills, patience, and general attitude.
2:30PM: Admit defeat in wholly one-sided battle. Call helpful colleague in branch office with functioning printer, who agrees to take on boss’s urgent task.
2:45PM: Admit defeat in working day as a whole. Open Word document and start writing post for too-long-neglected blog. References to Harold McMillan conspicuous by their absence.
…………
So there you have it. It’s now 3:50PM, and the weekend, thankfully, is upon us. Or just about upon us. It turns out the office with the functioning printer doesn’t have a working franking machine so I will need to do the ‘sending out’ bit of the urgent Friday afternoon boss’s job all by myself after all. Which is fine by me, as operation of the franking machine is my very favourite menial office task, and probably just about as complicated an objective as I seem destined to achieve on this particular Friday… and I think that is my helpful colleague I can hear coming up the stairs with a bundle of urgent letters, so I had better get this post saved and get the hell out of here. Have a good weekend everyone, and I hope your Fridays have been a little bit more productive than mine has been so far….
I think you've found the idea job there Jonathan! And yes, The Joy Of Franking. There's nothng like it in an office is there? When I used to do it, I felt like the special monitor lording his privileges over form 5C. Except that I was in a branch of Yorkshire Bank.
Posted by: looby | October 17, 2009 at 10:14 PM
'The Joy of Franking' would have been an ideal title for the post would it not? I am occasionally called upong to do more braintaxing tasks in return for my salary (honest!) but curiously on all 3 occasions Frankie (who I should make clear we did not name after a piece of office equipment) has come to visit me at work I've been engaged in against-the-clock Friday afternoon mailout activity (envelope stuffing , stamplicking,etc). I think he believes I'm some kind of postman.
By the way I hope we are all enjoying these new squiggly boxes that have started appearing by the comments. I've no idea where they've come from but am finding them quite decorative....
Posted by: jonathan | October 18, 2009 at 12:51 PM
You are lucky that you have any mail to frank. We have had so many postal strikes where we are over recent months that no one is posting much at all anymore - why bother, it probably won't get there.
On the up side, I've been doing lots of faxing! Now, that is exciting.
Posted by: Cocktails | October 19, 2009 at 10:28 AM
I can't remember the last time I had to post anything. Or fax anything. I kind of miss it. Still have to print stuff though.
Posted by: joella | October 27, 2009 at 12:01 AM
Aye, wor Jonathan, you have brilliantly hit on the essence of workplace ennui here and I think Harold McMillan would be proud. For me the staring into the middle distance and the back stairs secret escape route set in after about 2 years in any job. So you have made me feel much better!
Posted by: Abby | October 28, 2009 at 02:46 PM
If it's long-deceased ex-Conservative Prime Ministers we're looking to impress here then I'd say this post would be more likely to meet the approval of Lord Balfour, who, according to an insightful documentary I just caught on the Queen's BBC, owed his appointment entirely to nepotism and was roundly (perhaps euphemistically, if I read Andrew Marr's raised eyebrows correctly) dismissed as a serious politician by the turn-of-the-century establishment, on account of his 'delicate demeanour' and 'undergraduate taste for blue china'. The accompanying archive footage showed the PM at a desk, where he was ignoring important-looking documents in favour of staring balefully into the middle distance.
Eventually Balfour's paternalistic and classically Victorian laissez-faire outlook (the programme concluded) would lead to his political downfall, when the leading suffragette Emmeline Pankhurst achieved national notoriety by chaining herself to his moustache in front of the King's Horse.
Posted by: jonathan | October 28, 2009 at 11:16 PM