Monday, September 27, 2004

August 20 (Friday): Sickday. Today at work is rough stuff. The bodge job that is the organisation of the Acme Carefore LLP audit reaches new heights of incompetence and personal attacks as Melchard has quite a big pop at yours truly. In general, Stevo has quite the cob on over the job being so rushed and last minute, apparently due to Mr Melchard's disorganisation, and he is complaining/griping about the situation at every given opportunity. Today when I casually mention that next Thursday I will be having a lunchtime appointment with the good doctor, he pretty much immediately goes running to Melchard to bemoan it. Almost immediately after Stevo comes back from over the road I get Melchard on the phone fairly viciously laying into me, telling me that he cannot believe my mentality in arranging a doctor's appointment for next Thursday and he is insistent that I move the appointment. I tell him I cannot and when he asks me why, in order to explain this requires I say over the phone, a phone shared by four people, something very personal and embarrassing within earshot of said colleagues. Being forced to say this in front of people is pretty humiliating. I fob Melchard off on the phone and immediately head over to his office to…….I don’t know what! When I get there, the door is shut. I bang on it, pounding and enter. I begin talking seriously and then notice he is on the phone. I stop and take five, waiting in Iran's office until he sorts himself out (gets off the phone). Iran comments that I look stressed out and I tell him Melchard has had a pop at me and he goes “yeah, he’s been doing that lately�. A few minutes later he emerges and we go into Jack's room where we discuss/I tell him what the deal is. I don’t lose it but do take him down a peg and feel totally humiliated in the process. This incident isn’t something that will pass quickly and be forgotten.

From here, the rest of the day is the worst. I return to Chernobyl and take my seat. I don’t say a word, I just lull/dwell and think about what has just happened. Why/how on earth does/do people think they can get away with treating me in such a way? And why do I allow it? Why do I allow people go so far in belittling and upsetting me. Sometimes I really get bullied and in the process really let myself down. The record label is RIP for me the same reason, its all just a combination of communication problems and being a soft touch I guess. I think hard about this and it has a knock on effect, my process takes a domino direction and it all falls down. I look at my desk, my workspace and wonder “why the fuck do I bother when I just get treated so shit and spoken down to like I am……�. I well up and the floodgates begin to open. Oh my god, what the fucking hell is wrong with me? I spend the next the ten minutes sat in the toilet basically hiding and regrouping myself, pulling myself together. Jesus Christ I am almost 28, I am supposed to be an adult. Whoops.

When I emerge, I am pretty much “fuck everybody� in my attitude. Luckily it is late morning, so soon I can get out and go to lunch with Azmei. And I really feel that Stevo has let me down as a friend by just reacting the way he did and stirring up Melchard to the point that he had a pop at me in the form he did. For the rest of the day, I decide it is best not to talk to anyone in the office again today.

At 12.39, Steph (Osama's daughter) texts me to see if we are going out with her and her friend Rachel tonight. This has been a prospect long looming over my/our head(s). Basically, Steph has got a friend who she is trying to set up with Stevo and I am the go-between it seems. And said friend is some 31 year old that lives at home looking after her mother who enjoys socialising at the Hippodrome nightclub in Colchester. This girl is not a cancer cure. I knew this was coming, that Steph would want to try and get us out tonight to pair her friend up with Stevo and I really really never ever wanted to go the Hippodrome. As a result of today’s incident, I do Stevo a dis-service and ignore the text and do not give him the option of doing the do, as it would only involve dragging me out to even numbers. Why doesn’t anyone ever try to set me up? Maybe because I’m a cry-baby bastard. Anyways, the last thing I want/need is to be hung-over for tomorrow in London and to have Stevo crash over mine and me having to endure getting him up and kicking him out in the morning.

Fortunately too much thinking is averted when Azmei turns up and I am completely relieved to be getting away from the office and my treacherous work colleagues for an hour. A lack of ideas sees us heading to Yates and ordering the usual. Or at least attempting to order the usual, the Yates fryer is up the spout. I wind up eating lasagne with mash potato! Lunch with Azmei is a bit laboured to be honest. She tells me all about her mum falling ill and all about life in Leicester. As per my prediction, she is bored stuck at home all day playing mummy, which lends weight to the theory that work for her was “playtime� and her entire social life. Today I really don’t fancy her, she has lost a fair bit of weight but doesn’t look good for it. And she is dressed very very casually (badly). From my end, I tell her this and tell her that but for some reason I make it sound like I have little report and have done little since she left in June, which definitely isn’t necessarily true. Phoebe gets mentioned briefly but the subject does not get addressed much. I pull out my Cantonese phrase book to much hilarity and sadly our lunch benefits greatly from the prop (has our mere conversation skill exhausted and now deserted us?). Today’s lunch feels flat, like our spark has now long left us. I tell her how her sister flipped at me and unsurprisingly (and rightly) Azmei gets defensive for her sister but she does say "Sarah didn't fly off the handle yesterday". Bollocks. I show Azmei the nutzoid text of Syra proclaiming her hatred for me. Azmei laughs at it but still looks at me (my claims) with scepticism. There is nothing I can in my defence is there? We leave Yates and walk around town for a bit. She asks me if I am serious about Phoebe and I tell her that the distance thing makes it not possible and that if I lived/worked in London I would feel that it would at least have a chance. We part ways.

As I walk back to the office I bump into Ben. Ben is looking healthy and he is now wearing glasses and therefore is looking smart, sexy and intelligent. Thanks to Col U’s great start to the season, he is bouncing! He asks me if I want to go out tonight and I tell him about the suggested Stevo rendezvous but say “no� because I want/need to be in full health for tomorrow! We leave on terms, him telling me to call him about going out tonight but adding “you won’t will you�. Nope. Ha ha.

After lunch I bump into Melchard and now he is nice nice. Whatever, I’m curt and bordering on rude, I don’t want to speak (or be spoken) to him today.

Today ends not before time, this has definitely been one of my worst days at GloboChem ever. When I get home I discover I have finally received my "Important Information From HM Government" envelope/booklet/leaflet. What happened Tony Blair? I know people who have had their booklets for weeks! Is my life not as important as theirs?

From there I slip into bed and watch Wayne's World on DVD, almost in preparation for tomorrow, the mock cack handed way of learning conversational Cantonese ever known in the history of man. Hey, halfway through they even get bored of speaking it and just allow the subtitles to run on on their own. I fall asleep before the ending of the movie, I really should not be watching such a film from so far back in my past, this is nostalgia and its what makes a person old (amongst other things).

A much better televisual experience rears its held early evening in the form of Queer Eye For A Straight Guy. Oh shit, I bought the book and still have not taken it out of the carrier bag, let alone read any of it. Self improvement seems slow for Jason Graham. And tonight’s plans are scuppered further when Dad hits me on MSN early evening and I miss the majority of the show. Tonight Dad is all gloom and doom. Work is messing him about, he is bored, the dog is old, he doesn’t feel well and now it looks like the social services may be about to claim back £6,000 that they have given my parents in “error�. No normal people can just come up with that kind of bread in a whim as I am lead to believe the SS are expecting. So generally, the tone of our conversation is sombre to say the least. Words of spoken of them maybe having to sell up and I begin to wonder how this will effect me. Ouch, this really is not a very good day.

Around 9pm my cellphone begins ringing and it is Steph, obviously ringing to see if Stevo and I have come out to play. Like a true, royal shit I ignore it and do not answer. Tonight there is/are going to be two really disappointed girls out there on the streets, pubs and clubs of Colchester.

Once dad is gone, I take in the usual feast of Friday night TV comedy, which I have always thought was aimed at the single and lonely in order to make them laugh and to prevent them from being depressed and committing suicide. Tonight’s menu includes Will & Grace (guest starring a very hot Minnie Driver) and Borat Television Programme. These shows are good but they’re not great, they don’t make me forget my life and my shitty, they’re not cathartic and the least of my daily grind. In other words, I am missing Bo Selecta.

Too early on a Friday night, I put myself out of misery and face the music for tomorrow.

np: Lemonheads - Into Your Arms


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