Work Work Work...

[Guest]

So, I've come to a point in my life where I can see the funny side of most things that appear before me. I find it only fair that I share these things with you.

I'll take you through a day of my working life, with fairly obvious embellishments. Because that's what I do.

The Snooze button. My friend, my ally... my worst enemy. I'm not the best at waking up in the morning, and this button seems to know this. It actively promotes getting up late, so much so that it activates sometimes, even when I'm pressing the stop button. It calmly says to me, with its neon grey and purple sign, 'relax, work can wait, why move from your warm bed?' and I often find myself agreeing and dozing off for another short while.

When I do eventually get up, it's like I'm drunk, but without the intoxication. Everything is blurry and moves about, generally trying to trip me, putting wires, chairs and small animals in my path. Then there's finding my clothes. Blurry smudges on a blurry smudge of a floor, a thing that looks vaguely like a sweater, and trousers which inevitably end up being worn the wrong way round or inside out.

Once I'm more awake, I make the necessary adjustments to my attire, and head for the door. At this point I do my incredibly important 5 point check. Phone. Check! Bus ticket. Check! Keys. Check! Wallet. Check! Ipod. Checkarino! Onwards and upwards, (well, in a westerly general direction) to the bus stop! I put my music on random, meaning I have to skip to a song I want to listen to, and march off dodging breakfast wielding maniacs on my way.

Buses are strange things. You wait ages for one to arrive, then when it does, it's on time... I guess I should get my watch looked at. I got on the bus and walked up to my usual seat, which is three rows from the back, just before the wheels. I like the height advantage it gives me. It empowers me. Then a really tall man gets on and sits near the front and is still taller than me where I'm sitting. Then I'm a little sad. So I skip through more random songs on my ipod, and before I know it, I'm approaching my stop. Now getting off this bus is a bit of a challenge. I have to time myself just right, so that I avoid the bumps in the road and the sharp left turn the bus has to do before it gets to my stop. Sometimes it doesn't always work and my knees end up in my armpits because of a strange stooping bump.

So I get off the bus and walk the 200-odd yards to my office, avoiding oncoming suits and strange Greek builders.

Approaching the workplace, an incredible sense of forboding comes over me. Entering the pastel yellow, royal blue walled reception is a surreal experience, 80's tat with ornate stone embellishments... somebody got stuck in a time-warp and set it to frappe'.

Ah the lift. The ghostly orifice. The conversations I've had with the voice in the lift. I've come to the conclusion that when there is no-one around, and the lift is empty, this voice recites Shakespeare to pass the time. I've yet to prove it, but only time will tell. The reason I call the lifts ghostly is that whenever anyone uses the stairs, the lifts open and close at the floor the person is currently at, following them until they get to the floor they need to be. I find it creepy, and I often ask the lift voice why he does this.

Third floor. It begins. I enter the code on the door, because government organisations have to have digi-locks on all of their doors, to prevent people walking in and... uh... swearing. I went to my desk, and my colleagues all give the obligatory grunt, which roughly translates to either 'good morning' or 'why aren't you dead yet?'. I still haven't quite figured out which it is. My computer is usually off at this time, but for some reason, somebody had already logged in and decided to open sever internet pages advertising jobs, houses, cars and, rather more unusually, leather products. I thought about questioning it, but at this hour (8.00am) I wasn't going to get much more than a grunt from anybody.

An hour and a half passed before I had to carry out my first duty of the day. Post opening. Oh joy. I summon the girls who work at the same level as me, and we exit the third floor office, to make tracks towards the fifth floor. Back in the lift. The two girls were gossiping about some random colleague, as per usual, and I've noticed that this is always a different person every day. I make myself exempt from gossip by playing the male card. And the stupid card. And the ignorant card. And also the deaf card. I was running out of cards, so I threw them all at the girls and ran out of the lift.

Another stupid lock. Once I was past this seemingly pointless barrier, I headed towards the highly secure post room, which according to one team leader is a "High Security Area" and that we couldn't leave until every item was opened and sorted to the correct team. It is tedious, but I then get to become Postman Pat Schumacher and push a big blue trolley about, delivering post to all the people in the building.

Once that is completed, I sit at my desk and begin my daily routine. Facebook, Myspace, RPGFO and Vox. Then the work system. Then back to Facebook. Then back to the work system. Then back to Facebook, with a quick Myspace check. This takes me through to lunch, where I eat food and procrastinate heavily, checking all of the websites. This is usually RPGFO time, but I think I was on it too much so the tech people blocked it.

I usually repeat the cycle in the afternoon, until I have to take some files to the basement. This is usually a job I hate, but recently, it's been a chance to call my girlfriend and to film some amusing (to myself at least) videos for her. I still insist on hiding some donkeys down there at some point in time. Once I have finished not working, I put the files in the cabinets and return to my desk, where there is usually a cup of tea waiting. I see this as a thanks for my efforts, and drink it heartily, ignoring my work.

Once I've finished my work, it's usually time for me to check the websites again, or sometimes I choose to annoy the cleaners by leaving little white paper dots all over the floor, usually by another colleagues chair, so they get a clout over the head with a mop. I learnt THAT lesson a long time ago. That woman is dangerous!

So I leave my office safe in the knowledge that I've been as unproductive as I can be, and head for my bus stop. Homeward bound at last. Now if only I could earn a decent wage.