Well, now that I've got your attention
I'll guess have to apologise for the fact that this post (and possibly
any post ever on Fudge) contains no sex – not even a little bit, none at
all, nada, zilch.
Sorry …. ;-)
It's just the latest saga in the
ongoing story that is Sarah Mac but I thought that title might liven
things up a bit around here.
So, what's new?
Well, I was head hunted a few weeks
back (kind of). A company I worked for a few years ago rang me up
offering me some work. It's been a while since I worked in an office
and so I had the usual concerns.
What the fuck was I going to wear?
Would they all hate me??
Would I make a complete arse of
myself???
What the fuck was I going to wear????
Could I DO the job?????
What is the sun shone and I wanted to
go to the beach and it was a work day??????
And, most importantly ….
WHAT THE FUCK WAS I GOING TO
WEAR???????/
I'd got rid of almost all my office wardrobe a couple of years ago on the basis that a) most of it was
too big now and b) I hated it all. I had kept a couple of things
though, Christ knows why as they turned out to be hideous!
I mean seriously, the stuff I used to
wear to work … Uggg …
I did try it on though and asked Miss
Mac's opinion – apparently hysterical laughter IS an opinion –
sometimes I really love that girl, sometimes well … not so much …
I threw all the clothes into a heap and
started again working out what (from the stuff I can cope with
wearing) was suitable for the office without making me look like a
tart.
It turned out to be a pretty tall order
given that I live my life in jeans (not suitable), far too short
dresses (I can get away with some of them I think with a bit of
judicial accessorising), shorts (too cold and possibly not suitable)
and other random stuff and then I went shopping so it wasn't ALL bad.
Luckily they don’t all seem to hate
me. In fact, Id go so far as to say that so far NO ONE seems to hate
me.
Obviously I HAVE made an arse of myself
but hopefully they'll appreciate that it's one of my endearing
qualities. I don't know, tell me what YOU think …
I've discovered with many years
experience in offices that one of the ways to integrate yourself and
make friends is to offer to wash up the cups. Now you would think
that offering to make the tea/coffee would have a similar affect but
no!!!
The thing is, if you constantly offer
to make tea/coffee, then people think you just want a skive, a chance
to get away from the desk and maybe gossip in the kitchen for a bit.
Clearly there is some truth in that and I'm not above the occasional
skive or gossip but it is not the way to make friends and integrate
yourself so, what I do is this:
I keep my head down, I work my socks
off, I’m far too busy for coffee/tea breaks unless someone asks in
which case I look up with an air of (weary) surprise that the time
has gone so quickly and I gratefully accept the offer of sustenance.
However, no one wants to do the washing
up which incidentally takes just as long as the making of tea/coffee
– takes place in the kitchen – and is ALSO a great opportunity
for a bit of a gossip – it really is a win/win!
So, getting back to the making an arse
of myself (which IS the only reason you drop by isn't it – be
honest now … oh, and obviously for the non existent sex but I
expect those people have stopped reading by now anyway).
My second day in the office and I
decided it was time to put my theory into practice and picked up the
cups and went into the kitchen.
Now, the kitchen is fairly small, the
sink was right in front of me. I filled the sink with hot soapy
water (it might be a skive but you've still got to do it properly)
and then I reached for the dish washing brush in front of me.
My hand grabbed the brush, slid along
it's length and shot off the end spraying soapy water all over
myself. The dish washing brush remained firmly in position by the
tap held upright by the suction cup on the bottom of it (which
obviously I hadn't noticed).
If you're thinking that me covered in
soapy water is the punchline then oh, how I wish you were right!
I pulled that bloody thing again but it
didn't budge, I tugged it and turned it trying to break the suction
and in the end I grabbed it with both hands and yanked it as hard as
I could.
The effing thing unstuck itself with a very loud farting sound, and shot over my shoulder, out of the door, down
the stairs opposite the door and landed at the feet of the leader of
the local council who had just arrived for a meeting …
I marched downstairs covered in
bubbles, completely mortified and snatched up my brush without a word
– as I went back up the stairs I heard him say in a disbelieving
tone – 'what an extraordinary girl' …
Other than that it's been pretty
uneventful. I spend most of my time sitting opposite a gorgeous
young thing who makes me feel about 103 and to whom I offer fluff
covered mints from my coat pocket in the manner of a DOM.
I CAN do the job and so far it's mostly
been pissing down with rain so I've had no beach dilemma.
So yep, all is good in the land of
Fudge right now and who knows, maybe I will write that bonk buster
one day (but don't hold your breath ...)
