Here’s the story of the frustrating do, the slog, and a new meaning of ‘letter head’.
The dreary office lingers with its hairy knuckles scraping across the floor like a tired child exhausted from a day of never-ending shopping. Although why said child’s knuckles are hairy remains a mystery. Unless, of course, one’s child is an orang-utan. But that only serves to raise more questions. Humankind was born in the wilderness of Africa, free and easy as the cup of hot chocolate nudged clean from your hand by a busy commuter, your plot for revenge ill-advised and far too bloody. Many thousands of years later, humanity has devolved from creatures free to roam and free to frolic wherever frolicking took one’s flights of fancy, to creatures caged and shackled in the offices of our world longing for the sweetest relief that is death itself. Few other species on Earth or indeed the universe at large would ever seek to suppress its desires for the open savannahs in favour of terrible back support, awful tea in those paper cups that break apart in your mouth, and an untold amount of karate chopping the photocopier that never seems to work. As they say, ‘work will set you free’. Except we were already free and then chose not to be free. Perhaps work will give you the illusion of freedom, momentarily blinding you to the fact that nobody in any office anywhere on Earth is anything other than utterly depressed. Happy New Year!
A Fabulously Frumpy New Year and the Life of Work
Despite the apparent hatred of the office, most people work in offices. It truly is like we stepped out of the primordial ooze and into some kind of primordial blender. Christmas is a time when many people of the human race rejoice with the downing of tools, quickly followed by the growing realisation of boredom as there is simply nothing to do in the run-up to Christmas or indeed that weird chunk of the year after Christmas but before New Year, what a lesser man might call the ‘perineum’ of the year.
That fabulous frumpy feeling befalls many people come the New Year and the realisation that work, that dreadful hellhole of spreadsheets and gossip around the vending machine, will soon return. Few could feel any more bloated. Chocolate has devoured the souls of the living leaving them as empty husks ready to be filled with data and various types of graphs, leaving one knee-deep in the ponderment of what a mekko chart is and why the hell I should care…
In the United Kingdom, all here work to live because all here are struggling to keep their heads above the water, as such is perceived by the incumbent authoritarians as ‘not trying hard enough not to drown’, whilst simultaneously not providing any kind of flotation device. People here work because there is no choice. And the work available isn’t ideal. Leaving many stranded in the offices each and every day pretending to work. Or as I do, your humble narrator, writing endless blog posts. So many blog posts. At least such activities whittle away the precious seconds of life. In that regard, life is like a parachutist heading for a cacti strewn patch of desert. You know it’s coming, death that is, so you choose to spend life trying to make it fun or screaming uncontrollably. I often favour the latter. Depending on the situation, it is not always the best advice.
ARRRRGH! It’s a pleasure to meet you… ARRRRGH!
The Prevalent Unhappiness and Slog of the Depressed Kingdom
Unhappiness is as prevalent in the United Kingdom as the empire of the United Kingdom was once prevalent everywhere else. Even then, most are secretly delighted to return to work. The promise of… actually, nobody knows. There is excitement there but few are wise to the ‘why’. Ooh, returning to the office! I’ll be so happy to see everyone! No, you won’t. You think you will, but after two minutes of Sharon yapping on, you’ll wish you were back bosom deep in Celebrations.
The slog of returning to work is a tough battle to survive. All know that the first week of work in the New Year is a living hell, hence why we name it: the slog. ‘Slog’ comes from an Old English word meaning ‘to hit with the fist’, and that is what New Year, new work, feels like. Almost as if the universe has developed some kind of fist that it is repeatedly mushing into your already misshapen mug. The fact that the universe does not finish the job suggests that it enjoys pummelling and is sadistic enough to watch humanity suffer. I argue it’s an unfair fight.
I mean… it’s the universe, you know?
The Routine of Hope and Optimism and Depriving of Such
One of the hardest factors of returning to work is routine. The trick here is to never leave one’s routine. Stick to a set time when you rise and wake to keep your body in check. Otherwise, after two weeks of waking at three in the afternoon, your body will wonder what kind of medieval battering ram smashed it to smithereens, when you wake on your first day back at seven in the morning. While many subscribe to the belief that time off is time to let yourself go, this is really poor advice. Have you ever tried running for a bus full of chocolate and regret? Stick to the routine.
Seemingly, on one’s first day back from work, one’s brain decides to depart and move to somewhere out there in the ether. One seemingly forgets the simplest of things. For example, one may head to the cash machine to withdraw money for the bus or train fare. Suddenly, one cannot remember one’s PIN. Or one may forget what bus number to catch. Or even where one sits on the bus. It is almost like you are completely stranded in a fugue state. The solution here is to recite the familiarities. Recite your PIN once a day and do not forget the merits of drawing up a plan of the bus layout to remember your favourite seat. All of humanity has a favourite bus seat. Few will admit to it but there is a part of you that dies when you get onboard and someone else is sat in your place. I believe it’s hope, that’s what dies. Until, of course, you get to my age (31), and there’s none left, leaving you empty and devoid of any kind of optimism.
Happy New Year!
The Journey Back to Work and Forgetting Forgetfulness
The journey into work is traumatic enough but the arrival at work is even harder. One must deal with all the pleasantries of reacquainting oneself with one’s co-workers, even though most people who work in an office regard their co-workers as, and let’s be kind here… insufferable tits. This was especially true of me, a man who had his long hair cut short over Christmas. OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR HAIR! YOU LOOK SO DIFFERENT! LET’S GAWP! Oh, God. STOP STARING AT ME! I WAS ONCE LIKE YOU! No, wait. That’s something else.
The best way to avoid this chitchat, which is vital if one is riddled with social anxiety as I am, is to keep one’s head down, preferably with headphones lodged in one’s ears, or, if desperate, hide in the toilet. One’s co-workers may think you have the runs, but on New Year’s Day, who doesn’t? If one absolutely cannot escape talking to one’s co-workers, the most important thing to remember is this: shut down the conversation. “Ah, so… how was your Christmas, tell me everything!” Lie. Lie through your teeth. “Oh, I was very sick so I spent most of it in bed. But I’m better now!” “Oh, no! That’s a shame! Was it… you know?” “Oh, no. I don’t think.” “Oh.” The advantage of this move is that there is now a seed of doubt planted in the minds of your co-workers. This person might have a deadly virus. AVOID HIM, QUITE LITERALLY LIKE HE HAS THE PLAGUE! It is the move of an underrated genius.
One of the worst moments of any first day back at work is forgetting the passwords. You’re there, stuck at your computer, your boss breathing down your neck like the lizard man you suspect him to be, and you cannot log on. You try several passwords but none are working! The obvious solution is to write down the passwords but password experts, or nerds as they are properly known, will tell you this is a big faux pas. Why? Because someone could break into the office and steal my computer? If they know what they’re doing, they’ll strip it down for parts. If they’re really clever, they’ll hack the password in no time. Heck, even if they’re really dumb, they could use the computer as some kind of weapon, and don’t tell me getting hit over the head with a keyboard doesn’t hurt. It most certainly does.
When the keys come off, it’s like shrapnel. You have to spend the entire following day having random people pushing the impression of ‘Control-Alt-Delete’ on your forehead, it’s very annoying…
The Progression of the Working Day and Running from the Runny Nose
As the workday progresses, one of the biggest challenges is staying awake. The tiredness all office workers feel at this moment is the kind of uncontrollable tiredness that prevents you from staying awake. You feel your head start to droop as one’s backseat coitus is interrupted by the Grinch. You feel your head start to spin as your limbs begin to switch off. You now find yourself in the perilous scenario of whether you can find a quick five minutes for a nap. Of course, workers in the UK are worked into the ground so there is little time for rest never mind a nap. That would make for a swift exit from your employment. Trying to wake up and trying to stay awake are two very difficult things. Scientists say fresh air is the elixir to solve your tiredness problems. Except in a cold country, all ‘fresh air’ does is give you a runny nose.
The best bet with work on the first day back is not to try at all. To do as little as humanly possible is vital if one is to survive to quitting time. On this day, of all days, nothing will sink in. One’s entire brain will descend into a pile of gooey mush. One will become flustered and frustrated that one’s brain refuses to work. It is like a post-coital haze. I’d assume. As a virgin. You could try to do the washing up but your body wants you to rest.
My advice here is to do the washing up before the sex or indeed hire an au pair. And get your wife to do the dishes while you do the…
Dealing with the Dribble of Life and the Year to Come
Dealing with clients is difficult on the first day back. Mostly because you have completely forgotten their names. Sometimes because they’re hyper-critical of your smashing new do. Who are you! Who? WHO! Who am I? Who are YOU? The Who? It’s a haircut! I haven’t become The Queen. That… that I am aware of.
The worst part of dealing with clients in the New Year haze is when they recognise you but you do not recognise them. Ah, it’s so good to see you! And you… erm… over there… yes… I totally know who you are. Ahem. The way to combat this is the art of the blag. Pretend you know who they are. Engage in mild pleasantries. Try not to get sucked into anything that might give the game away. Rather than specifics, be as vague as humanly possible. “So, how’s the family?” Rather than, “How’s the wife?” This can result in the quite frankly alarming revelation:
Still dead.
The art of the blag can help to combat many of the issues faced by the return to the office. Forgetting how to work the printer, for example. Damn it, the printer is broken! It is not broken, but at least one shuffles the act of fixing the printer onto someone else. The preferred candidate is the youngest office worker. They are likely to break the printer more and then the printer will truly be broken and then you are in the clear. Some may label this ‘cowardly’ but the world needs its cowards just as much as it needs its heroes.
While the week may drag on, and while one may lament the bus crammed with smoking children screaming obscenities in your face because the world has gone to pot, surviving the first day and the first week of a new working year is not that hard at all. If you follow these simple tips, you too can get back to the grind and enjoy a brand new 365 days of utter abject misery waiting for the grave and the realisation that it was all pointless and you wasted your life.
Happy New Year!
The best is yet to come.
– Frank Sinatra (singer and actor).
Peace Out :|:
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