Wednesday, October 27, 2004

October 1 (Friday): Life Is Precious and God and the Bible. This morning I emerge from a dream about my impending hospital date/operation, which turns out to be rather horrific and myself quite reluctant to undergo such a procedure. I awaken disorientated, with a minor headache unable to fathom what day this morning is.

Once with the program, I enter the day with the attitude: new month, good mood. Of course though, working were I do, it doesn’t last long.

Today at work, Stevo is getting on my tits, making me paranoid to the hills. He emerges from over the road, having overheard a comment by two of the partners that someone is “not recovering�. Such a comment could/would/does certainly describe me but that is due to forces beyond my control (a 60 year old gentleman called Cris). Today’s tune is Take Me Down To Paranoid City and it sees Stevo pulling out the timesheets/timeslips and trying to make head nor tail of the wacky budget system the firm uses, the incredibly flawed system I can’t be arsed to deal with landing me with a very bad looking set of figures on the budget. We have been told this does not directly effect review/report of performance but those who thrive on the budget surely must benefit somehow, in areas that those who don’t thrive (me) will not benefit (mainly I’m thinking financially here). Anyways, Stevo proceeds to spend the day analysing his own personal time sheet against the time slip, fishing for any missing time I might be able to muster. However, he is very vocal in this process and only serves to wind myself (and probably everyone else) up with his declarations how you have to “play� the system and manipulate. Yeah, he really does that (said sarcastically). I hate it when he gets all authorative, it just sounds really wrong and fairly delusional in making sweeping statements that are meant to sound good when really there is absolutely no substance behind/to them.

At lunchtime I meet up with Mark and we go eat outside at the Hogshead. It is an incredibly sombre lunch, Jesus I am about to lose my best friend for at minimal six months and at maximum this marks his inevitable departure out of Colchester, something that doesn’t appear to appeal or spur me on in the slightest. I was always half hoping that I/we might be able to take up careers in the City together but for various reasons this has not panned out on either part (although Mark certainly could have got a job in London if he had wanted to). Actually, lunch is a real downer, we both seem lost for words, I’m morose at his departure and Mark is churning up inside with nerves over his new position, as any sane/normal person would do. There is some relief when a maniac with tourettes (or at least VERY angry and exercising his right to shout). We pretty much let off a combined relief with the acknowledge “hey, at least we’re not in that guy’s boat�.

Lunch ends and I return to the office and the afternoon goes pretty much as per the morning with Stevo harping on about the budget vs timesheets. And he harps on to the point that Andy produces the budget for distribution to staff. When they come out, mine still looks absolutely horrible, still six grand the wrong way. My recent performance has just seen me keep my head above water it seems, on paper I am worse than Sandip and Louise, which is not necessarily the truth, especially in the first instance/example. Still, it doesn’t stop him from making a smart comment, which I overhear while sitting on my throne in the shitter. I feel the flaw in the system gets really illustrated when Emma’s two months on the budget show her to already be five grand the wrong way, almost as bad as me! I use the Brain from Teachers line on her: “I’m going to miss you, you make us look good�.

In the afternoon, pretty demoralised and disheartened by the findings of the budget results (not least Stevo the dildo who actually was the one who brought about its production), no one really does anything. Even Ivan comes over to hang out for a bit. All in all though, I do really really manage to piss off Stevo, this afternoon turns out to be one of those days/occasions where/when I wilfully go too far.

At five o’clock we all run not walk out of the door. I blag a bubble mobile because I am headed to Pipeline in Mildenhall on Monday, so I get a lift/drive/ride home. When I get back to Bohemian Grove, there is a post slip waiting on the floor for me and a package awaiting me at East Hill post office. Immediately I grab the keys to my car and fly to the post office to pick up what I believe to be my DVD of Mr Show season four from Amazon. And that is exactly what it turns out to be and my Friday night entertainment gets sorted.

From there I head to Asda to pick up something for dinner (something basic) and in the process I only manage to get stuck in the car park for nearly thirty minutes again. Once more this is really bad timing/planning as I have turned up there at rush hour on a Friday evening, a sure time/point when commuters will be returning for the weekend. With mission unaccomplished there, I head straight to Sainsburys where I do my thing and get some sickly sweet cereal as my evening’s meal. As I go to leave the car park and pull out of my space, another car is coming along. I casually stop upon seeing him but the guy freaks and stops staring at me for about ten seconds. In my current mood, I just feel like “fucking come on then�, especially still being in my suit and feeling like a superstar (well, not quite). My god though I am aggressive these days, what’s happening to me.

When I get in I MSN with dad for some and then likewise with B, a gimmick that is already getting old. The rest ploughs on and I watch some Friday night TV before finally tearing into the Mr Show DVD box. Mr Show rocks but I still fall asleep watching it.

np: JoJo - Leave


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