trying to concentrate at work. what i do - fuck it - i work in an office. you know what that's like.
is there anybody left on god's green earth who hasn't sat at a desk and shuffled paper for a living?
anyway, that's what i do. thirty-five, forty hours a week. overtime if i want it. i've worked there for quite a few months now - being a temp, i have no relationship with any of my colleagues.
they look down on me and talk in hushed whispers about their careers. they talk about their homes and the things that they've bought for these homes, but they never talk about actually doing anything with any of it.
i hear them talking about their fifty-inch hd plasmas but they never seem to say, "i watched -" or, "did you see -"
birthdays and christmases, we all troop to one of the subtly garish pubs nearby. they're uncomfortable having the mere menials at the same table, but hey - it's christmas, innit?
and you got to make the effort. like masking your disappointment when the secret santa's unveiled. oh great! a piece of shit i can see no use for!
no, it's fantastic - if you'd given me the money, i'd probably just have spent it on the same shitty after-shave whoever-it-was got lumbered with last christmas.
do i sound cynical? fed up? good. you're paying attention.
it's a funny thing about work - we spend a large percentage of our lives there, but never actually connect with the people we encounter there.
sometimes it feels like being trapped in a bubble. a thin membrane that comes between me and the world.
and at other times, i care even less.
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