Today, the first day after a fantastic easter break, I find myself working in an office in Surrey. This is exactly the kind of scenario I have been desperately trying to avoid since I left school. I have often been heard proclaiming , 'I'll do anything but work in an office, I'd kill myself!'
Slightly meladramatic - perhaps, but mild hysteria is in my nature and in the event, I find that office life isn't so bad after all. (These observations are being made after 8 hours and two minutes, they may be somewhat different after eight years).
At any rate I keep find myself thinking of Working girl with Melanie Griffiths and all the eighties themed power struggle potential there is in the air of this plaster board walled, purpose built, slightly leisure centre-ish office on the edge of the M25.
Im not sure that that last line was even a real sentence, but a picture paints a thousand words and who can help but warm to Melainie's faux proffesionalism and polyester suit. You go girl! Who says you need qualifications to get a great job. As it sit here, dial tone phone to my ear lazily holding an unlit ciggie - a la Melanie, I'm sure the other people in the office can just feel my inate businessyness and importance. I may in fact have nothing to do but that really isn't the point.
So okay, what if you really don't have the qualifications or balls to be the boss? Well the future is not so bleak - Hello picture number two!
Whooaa there! get that face away from the edge of my cubicle! Oh, its just you, yes you, person who couldn't be Melanie. In the eighties the only way to be noticed if you didn't have the brains or the looks or well, anything, was to literally become the office clown.
So hoof out that slap, cover your tears with rouge, and show the world how much fun you can be!
As I ponder my jobless situation, I wonder in the long run who I'd rather be more like?
I think you know the answer, - hand me that eye shadow its time to bring those tears of failure to life with some rainbow colours!
Slightly meladramatic - perhaps, but mild hysteria is in my nature and in the event, I find that office life isn't so bad after all. (These observations are being made after 8 hours and two minutes, they may be somewhat different after eight years).
At any rate I keep find myself thinking of Working girl with Melanie Griffiths and all the eighties themed power struggle potential there is in the air of this plaster board walled, purpose built, slightly leisure centre-ish office on the edge of the M25.
Im not sure that that last line was even a real sentence, but a picture paints a thousand words and who can help but warm to Melainie's faux proffesionalism and polyester suit. You go girl! Who says you need qualifications to get a great job. As it sit here, dial tone phone to my ear lazily holding an unlit ciggie - a la Melanie, I'm sure the other people in the office can just feel my inate businessyness and importance. I may in fact have nothing to do but that really isn't the point.
So okay, what if you really don't have the qualifications or balls to be the boss? Well the future is not so bleak - Hello picture number two!
Whooaa there! get that face away from the edge of my cubicle! Oh, its just you, yes you, person who couldn't be Melanie. In the eighties the only way to be noticed if you didn't have the brains or the looks or well, anything, was to literally become the office clown.
So hoof out that slap, cover your tears with rouge, and show the world how much fun you can be!
As I ponder my jobless situation, I wonder in the long run who I'd rather be more like?
I think you know the answer, - hand me that eye shadow its time to bring those tears of failure to life with some rainbow colours!
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