I’m not here to make friends (only I am)

One of my favourite ways to pass the time is to play drinking games with reality TV shows based on my shameful knowledge of the cliches that are thrown around. Apart from my go-to favourites ‘thrown under the  bus’ and ‘RRRRRGGG RRRGGGGGG RRRGGGG‘, the other old chestnut that is trotted out on the regular is ‘I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win’.

As much as I love the bitchiness of the sentiment, I disagree. I AM here to make friends. Last time I wrote about moving offices, someone who read it recognised the company and new office and realised we worked at the same place. He emailed me, and lo and behold, he is one of my goodest friends today.

So, I moved offices again and am here to write about it,  hopefully making a new friend* in the process.

Basically it was a boring repeat of last time, I made plenty of jokes about people’s boxes (yes, they were crates, BUT STILL), it was as scary as any sort of minute change is blah blah.

The best bit of moving has been the team we’ve moved next to. They are a bunch of… characters, as the ever polite Mother would say. They are what we call ‘Lifers’. Or ‘Cockroaches**’ if youre talking to  my work wife Mexicantacos or I. They work on a product that is in the oh-god-just-die-already-I’m-not-interested-in-your-boring-ass-stories-just-give-me-my-inheritance-already stage (marketing term, sorry) of their product lifecycle. The mutual hatred we’ve built took all of, I don’t know, 20 minutes to set in.

On the toilet doors are signs encased in plastic sleeves (I mean, really, who uses  those plastic sleeves anymore? Thats right, THOSE guys) asking the cleaners to announce themselves before entering the toilet. This was a massive red flag for me because how else am I supposed to be mock surprised when I’m all naked and junk and the cleaners with their 200 bracelets that I’m sure aren’t disinfected after a hard days work being shoved down our toilet bowls come in? That’s how all beautiful relationship start, right? I just knew it was that team that put those signs up. THEN..

I might have seen a health & safety document on the printer and I might have thought to myself ‘well these are always good for a laugh” and so took it back to my desk. Maybe this document was 11 pages long, and 5 people were interviewed within. Were the words ‘breaking her fingernail’ involved? Perhaps. The poor dear had to take herself off to the hospital to get an X-ray. Which confirmed, no, she didn”t break anything apart from her precious fucking nail. Her nails that I’ve seen – they’re not much chop.

Apparently Doreen*** was exiting the toilets at the same time someone else was entering and they pushed the door with what must have been excessive superhero force and boom, there’s your compo claim.  While shows like The Office are hilarious and cringeworthy, I didn ‘t exect to come up against such similar people in the real life. My mind is blown and amused and disgusted and a little bit sad.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go and turn my head too quickly when my boss calls my name and get whiplash and never work another day in my life.

*Hot dude who sits at an appromimate 60 degree angle to my left, I’m looking at you. No, really, I’m looking at you, as I typabhkadjheukhs. Okay, I’ll stop now. (No I won’t. *repositions wheelchair and adjusts telescope* What? FINE *spins around on swivel chair and adjusts A4 piece of paper I’m squinting through. AHOY!*)

**As in they have survived the numerous nuclear redundancy waves that roll about this place

***Not her real name, but she’s such a Doreen, you know?