3 months ago General

It’s 8:40am and I’m currently playing the world’s worst game of Twister upon London’s highly efficient Underground system. Don’t get me wrong, I fully appreciate the difficulties that accommodating the capital’s 3 million commuters can bring, but rush hour on the Central Line truly is Hell on earth. The carriage doors open at Liverpool Street which means it’s time for another spin of the wheel. Stranger’s left armpit, to my right ear. Fantastic.

It’s not unusual for me around this point in the morning to suffer from a brief ten minute break-down of sorts, in which I question every life decision I’ve made thus far. Today is no different. Today’s particular thought revolves around why I indebted myself by thousands of pounds to earn a degree which would eventually allow me to endure this disgustingly miserable journey, 5-days-a-wofficieek for a troublingly large portion of my life. The mind boggles.

Anyway, crisis over. I’ve reached street level at Green Park and now I’m back in super-happy-successful-business minded-Janet mode. Let’s crack on with the day ahead…

…I reach the office at 9:02, wipe the sweat from my brow and take the walk of shame over to my desk. “Afternoon” shouts the office troll from the depths of his make-shift dungeon. “Bore off, Jim” I respond in a half-jovial, half-hateful manner. I say half and half; I think 20/80 would be a more fitting percentage divide. You see Jim and I have a bit of history. A dating history that swiftly ended after I knifed him in the back to ensure I got the Senior Account executive role last August. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right?

I start up my computer to find an excitingly low number of emails for a Monday morning. A couple of advertising enquiries, meeting with CEO, special offers on Viagra…wait…meeting with CEO? WHAT. I franticly reach for my diary, tearing through the pages to find today’s date. What I see next shakes me to my core. There in plain sight, for all the world to see: “NINE AM MEETING WITH GEOFF”. I launch myself out of my chair and head straight for the meeting room. “Don’t be late” yells Jim as I sprint past his lair. I won’t waste my breath this time – a simple hand gesture will do.

I burst into the meeting room. My Manager, Phil, is alone in the room. “You’re just in time” he whispers as I settle into my seat. He catches me eyeing up the breakfast spread to my right. “Go on” he says, “I made sure they were gluten free”. I scoff down a couple of mini croissants to muffle my rumbling stomach, swallowing the last bite just in time for Geoff’s grand entrance. He takes a seat and proceeds to unpack his briefcase. I use this small window of opportunity to ponder the basis of the meeting; Perhaps it’s the toilet incident at the Christmas Party? Whatever ever it is, I’m about to find out…

“…So this is basically just a quick catch up to see how you’re finding the increased responsibility in your new position” he says, as I suddenly become all too aware of my facial response. Was the overwhelming glee at the surprisingly trivial nature of the meeting too obvious? “It’s going grURRRGHHeat…” I roar, as a belch of monstrous proportions slips out of my oesophagus, leaving my response sounding more like the climax of a Frosties advert than the opening dialogue of a business meeting.

Now, this wasn’t just any burp. This was an ‘I’ve-eaten-gluten-get-me-to-the-nearest-toilet’ kind of-burp – the kind that I know only too well. Geoff glares with a look of complete and utter disgust. I look to my right and find Phil’s expression to be not too dissimilar. “Where did you find these?” I yell, pointing a quivering finger at the pastries I find before me. “I’m not sure. I sent Jim out for them.” “SABOTAGE” I yell as I hurl the plate of croissants across the room…

From this point in the story things start to get a little uglier. All you need to know is that my contract was swiftly terminated at Geoff Bleddyn Marketing, leaving me robbed of both my career, and my dignity.


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