Monday, October 10, 2005
Work is Hell: Part 666
"The Cleaner did it".
How was I to know that a seemingly innocent remark could have such a disastrous consequence?
It all began last week. As I was leaving on Monday evening I popped into the kitchen to leave back my coffee cup and noticed a box of fudge brownies on the counter. There was no one around to ask, so I presumed they were left unopened from a meeting earlier on, probably attended by marketing girls with eating disorders or diets to maintain.
I opened the pack and helped myself. It was real luxury stuff. The kind you would only buy if someone else was paying. The chocolate practically melted away in my mouth leaving lumps of fudgy sugar. Hmmm.
One was never going to be enough so I grabbed another couple for the journey home.
As I made for the door I passed the cleaning lady in the hallway. A nice little woman. Slightly Oriental I think, with a really soft spoken voice. She would ghost about the place every evening, silently cleaning her way through the office with a smile on her face.
"Hiya!" I said.
She smiled and nodded back at me and then I was gone.
The next day I was sitting around, contemplating making another cup of coffee in between downloading the latest episode of Lost.
The phone rang. It was Phyllis, our office manager. "You didn't open that box of brownies in the kitchen last night did you?"
"Er, no. The cleaner must have done it." I said before starting to laugh. "But really, why do you want to know? Is there a problem?"
She was already talking to someone else before she hung up the phone. I just shrugged and wondered at how mean minded and petty this place was.
Anyway, it was 11 o clock and I knew I'd have to start working pretty soon, so I made for the kitchen.
As I went through reception, I could hear the end of a shouting match. Our boss, Number One, stormed through the door past me in a rage. I had to jump back from the door swinging at my face. He glared at me for a second, probably weighing up whether he should hit me or not, before deciding against it and thundering up the stairs.
I went through to reception to see a red faced Phyllis. Annie, the receptionist, had run into the toilets in tears.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"You don't want to know." she said. "Best left unsaid."
I shrugged and made for the kitchen. There was always some kind of intrigue going on in here. Every time you walked into a room there was a group of people bitching about something, so you got used to not asking questions. Keeping your head down and watching your back.
Yesterday, I was on my way out the door at the end of another day's drudgery, when I passed a new cleaning lady on the stairs.
She beamed a friendly smile at my greeting, before continuing up the stairs with her bin-liners.
I took a double take at her from the bottom of the stairs. She was definitely new. Now I thought about it I hadn't noticed the usual cleaning lady around these last few days.
"Yes. She's new you know". came a voice in smug confirmation from my side.
Smithers had come out of his room into the hallway. Wrapped in ironic Burberrys and Pink. "Apparently the last one was caught stealing or something." he went on.
"What? What do you mean stealing?" I asked.
"I dunno. Stealing. Who cares? Nothing important. Biscuits or something. She probably wanted to feed her family or something. You know those chinkees..." he trailed off chillingly.
I felt sick.
From nowhere a marketing girl piped up... "Yea, apparently the boss went mad last week. She had opened one of his packets of brownies or something before a meeting with his accountant. He blamed the receptionist first. Lost the head with her. She hasn't been back since."
I was feeling worse now.
"Funny thing was though, that they didn't even eat the brownies in the end. Phylis says they left them all on the plate. It was more the point of it. He always likes to open the pack. Everyone knows that."
I didn't.
"Rules are Rules." she chirped gleefully.
I staggered out the door in shock, leaving them to continue with their speculative gossiping session. This place was insane. I had probably caused that poor woman's sacking. I was gutted. It was like living in the old East Block under the Stazi. I was never going to speak to anyone at work again. It just wasn't safe.
I needed a drink.
How was I to know that a seemingly innocent remark could have such a disastrous consequence?
It all began last week. As I was leaving on Monday evening I popped into the kitchen to leave back my coffee cup and noticed a box of fudge brownies on the counter. There was no one around to ask, so I presumed they were left unopened from a meeting earlier on, probably attended by marketing girls with eating disorders or diets to maintain.
I opened the pack and helped myself. It was real luxury stuff. The kind you would only buy if someone else was paying. The chocolate practically melted away in my mouth leaving lumps of fudgy sugar. Hmmm.
One was never going to be enough so I grabbed another couple for the journey home.
As I made for the door I passed the cleaning lady in the hallway. A nice little woman. Slightly Oriental I think, with a really soft spoken voice. She would ghost about the place every evening, silently cleaning her way through the office with a smile on her face.
"Hiya!" I said.
She smiled and nodded back at me and then I was gone.
The next day I was sitting around, contemplating making another cup of coffee in between downloading the latest episode of Lost.
The phone rang. It was Phyllis, our office manager. "You didn't open that box of brownies in the kitchen last night did you?"
"Er, no. The cleaner must have done it." I said before starting to laugh. "But really, why do you want to know? Is there a problem?"
She was already talking to someone else before she hung up the phone. I just shrugged and wondered at how mean minded and petty this place was.
Anyway, it was 11 o clock and I knew I'd have to start working pretty soon, so I made for the kitchen.
As I went through reception, I could hear the end of a shouting match. Our boss, Number One, stormed through the door past me in a rage. I had to jump back from the door swinging at my face. He glared at me for a second, probably weighing up whether he should hit me or not, before deciding against it and thundering up the stairs.
I went through to reception to see a red faced Phyllis. Annie, the receptionist, had run into the toilets in tears.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"You don't want to know." she said. "Best left unsaid."
I shrugged and made for the kitchen. There was always some kind of intrigue going on in here. Every time you walked into a room there was a group of people bitching about something, so you got used to not asking questions. Keeping your head down and watching your back.
Yesterday, I was on my way out the door at the end of another day's drudgery, when I passed a new cleaning lady on the stairs.
She beamed a friendly smile at my greeting, before continuing up the stairs with her bin-liners.
I took a double take at her from the bottom of the stairs. She was definitely new. Now I thought about it I hadn't noticed the usual cleaning lady around these last few days.
"Yes. She's new you know". came a voice in smug confirmation from my side.
Smithers had come out of his room into the hallway. Wrapped in ironic Burberrys and Pink. "Apparently the last one was caught stealing or something." he went on.
"What? What do you mean stealing?" I asked.
"I dunno. Stealing. Who cares? Nothing important. Biscuits or something. She probably wanted to feed her family or something. You know those chinkees..." he trailed off chillingly.
I felt sick.
From nowhere a marketing girl piped up... "Yea, apparently the boss went mad last week. She had opened one of his packets of brownies or something before a meeting with his accountant. He blamed the receptionist first. Lost the head with her. She hasn't been back since."
I was feeling worse now.
"Funny thing was though, that they didn't even eat the brownies in the end. Phylis says they left them all on the plate. It was more the point of it. He always likes to open the pack. Everyone knows that."
I didn't.
"Rules are Rules." she chirped gleefully.
I staggered out the door in shock, leaving them to continue with their speculative gossiping session. This place was insane. I had probably caused that poor woman's sacking. I was gutted. It was like living in the old East Block under the Stazi. I was never going to speak to anyone at work again. It just wasn't safe.
I needed a drink.
# posted by mydaysasawageslave @ 6:05 AM 
