T-minus 8 and Counting
Less than two weeks until I become unemployed. But only for two days then my new contract kicks in. I wonder if the two days makes a difference in terms of my National Insurance ‘contributions’? I hope it doesn’t affect the meagre amount of money I get when I turn 90.It all seems so uniimportant now and I seem so disaffected by it all. After nearly four years the prospect of walking out of the building at 5.30pm next Friday and never walking back in or seeing any of my colleagues again (in all probability) doesn’t even register a blip on my conscience. I guess that sums up the facile nature of the circumstantial friendships you only ever seem to be able to form in office environments or just that the people I work with aren’t worth bothering with and by return they think the same of me. Which they probably do. Plus that they think I’m odd. Whch they probably also do.
When I switched companies four years ago I did feel like I left some friends behind but we inevitably lost touch. Leaving Uni the feelings were even stronger- I’d count down the weeks until the end of the semester and be thinking about how much time I’d have left with these people before I didn’t see them for ages. Or ever again.
Now either I don’t meet the same calibre of people or I’ve just accepted that apart from maybe a couple of really good friends we’re all basically on our own. Maybe the bulk of the friendships I have now should be looked upon as transitional, always. Like a good meal maybe they should be anticipated, savoured then shat out and flushed away leaving only trace residues floating in the toilet bowl of my mind. A mental nugget of sweetcorn a reminder of some funny or poignant event.
Still at least I experienced something new at work today; getting poo on my arm. Not a huge amount, just a little smear. Ok, I had just come back from the toilet but since I was able to wipe my own bottom I’ve never managed to get poo on the inside of my forearm and it wasn’t even the arm I wipe with. Therefore I suspect it was someone else’s excrement. How in an office full of intelligent grown men can someone not deposit their latrine dirt neatly down the centre of the pan! It was lucky I decided to sniff the smear on my arm rather than assuming it was chocolate from the half eaten pain au chocolat on my desk and lick it straight off.
Last modified: Thursday, April 9th, 2026 at 9:24am
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