Saturday 23 April 2011

Oh, Dolly! Your song rings true!

“Working 9 to 5, what a way to make a living! It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it.”

Am I yet again inspired by Netflix? Yes, currently they are airing the famous Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, and Dolly Parton escapade about three chicks working for the man, and their eventual success in overthrowing their deadbeat boss played by Dabney Coleman but maybe this week’s blog is more to do with my return to work this Monday from my maternity leave. So, I have devised some ideas on how to survive the cubicle jungle.
For one, how do we deal with lunch-stealers? Seriously, is someone truly poor and starving, or are we just dealing with an asshole here? Can you be so much of a tool that you figure, “Mmm, strange lunch. It doesn’t have a name on it, so it must be for me and my gluttonous ass.” How to fix this common office quandary? As Bart would put it, “poison pizza.” I mean, they’ll be dead, so you’ll know immediately who ate it, plus they’ll be dead so they won’t be eating your lunch anymore, right?

Also, ever fight over what’s playing on the radio? Some offices let staff take turns choosing the station, with Bill picking Q107 on Mondays and Sheryl picking Virgin Radio Tuesday, etc. But what if you just can’t stand to listen to anything anyone else wants to hear? Easy fix! Every time a song comes on, jump up and start to dance. Show everyone your robot. And sing along. And grind with the girl next to you, whether you be man or lady. “Oh yeah, this is my favourite song!” you screech. Turn up the volume. Sometimes pick the radio up and run around the office with it over your head, shouting, “I’m John Cusack!” Then when it’s your turn to pick the station, just sit quietly and bother no one. Eventually, you will win the right to listen to your favourite station – everyday, all day.

Meetings. Mostly boring, mostly in too-hot conference rooms, and you’re likely within withering-glance view of the boss, so it’s tough to play Brickbreaker on your BlackBerry and make it look like you’re “just checking for an important email.” While there’s the age-old trick of painting your eyeballs on your eyelids, that can only work for about the first three meetings before others begin to catch on. So how to break up the boredom? I guess we could act interested, listen, take notes, and participate, but who the hell wants to do that? That only leaves us with a few options:
  • Option one is to give yourself a paper cut. Shriek wildly that you have hemophilia and have to get a blood transfusion immediately. Grab your stuff and fly out the door. When others check on how you’re doing, just tell them it was a false alarm and you made a mistake – you actually have conferencitis, and you’re much better now.
  • Option two on getting out of a meeting would be to spill coffee on the most important person there. They would have to get up in a huff (most of these highly important types are sort of uppity, so they will), thereby breaking up the meeting as Mr. or Ms. Big Stuff goes to wash the coffee from his or her burning crotch, leaving you to begin to chat with your other equally bored co-workers about the latest goings-on on Sister Wives.
  • Option three is always just to get up and make like you’re going to the can, but really you’re headed to the staff lounge to check out what’s on Montel for about 15 minutes. Return with a sense of happiness – after all, Sylvia Brown was on today and you’re happy to think you have a spirit animal in your life (likely, mine would be a hedgehog. Or that thing, Tanglet, who worked for the villainous Duchess Ravenwaves on Lady Lovely Locks).
And what about diversity and love? Well, office love and acceptance takes a new step forward with the coming out of the office photocopier. You always wondered why it never printed in black and white but instead fabulous purples and reds. Celebrate diversity with a Photocopier Pride Parade every July (during office hours, and not on statutory holidays or weekends), and hire cops to make sure none of those bigoted fax machines try to ruin the party.
Happy Easter, blog-readers!

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