Thursday, February 16, 2006
the marketing chainsaw massacre: part 12
mydaysasawageslave.com
Had managed to swing a few days off and was back at my cubicle with a serious case of 'work-shock.' My plan was to hide out in my earphones and avoid all human contact.
But first up was the morning meeting.
There was a huge hissy fit over a missed meeting, with hair tossing and lots of "I'm not putting you down, but..." put downs.
It was all acne, spots, half bitten nails and rash breakouts. A couple of alpha females were fighting for the affections of our boss. The dark satanic majesty that is Number 1.
One of them, a particularly ambitious little coke fiend called Trixiebelle, was suggesting how another more senior colleague could improve her working methods. Having just finished reading another self help, marketing guru book recommended her by Number 1, the new-speak was flying left right and centre.
I had no idea what they were saying. Terms like "trained in facilitating creativity." were being tossed off all over the place.
Someone actually said "we'll have to sit down after this meeting and arrange another meeting to talk about why we can't do this meeting next week."
They were facing off, pointing and pouting down the opposition and the testosterone was flying around the room.
Yup, the girls were in fine form today.
I was bored shitless but judging by his grin, it was like porn to Number 1.
We eventually got out and I escaped into my earphones and a world of Heavy Metal and emails.
The day dragged on until around 5 o'clock. Number 1 floats over to my supervisor, Kelvin and me. We are in the middle of talking to one of the less aggressive rentokit Marketing girls.
After hovering around leering at her for a few seconds, whilst waiting awkwardly for an opportunity to interrupt, he finally blurts out...
"You know I could just punch you in the face and rip that top of you. You'd be all covered in blood and shit and then I'd have my evil way with you right there! Ha Ha Ha!"
Silence.
It was one of those creepy tumbleweed moments. We didn't know where to look.
"What did you just say?" rentokit marketing girl gasped in disbelief.
and not getting the cue that he was being really creepy, Number 1 just went on to repeat himself.
"I Said, Hur! Hur! Did you hear this guys... that I could just punch her in the face and rip that top of. She'd be all covered in blood and... and then I could do whatever I wanted to her. Right there! Ha Ha Ha! What do ya reckon guys. Sounds good huh?" he leered at us conspiratorially.
There was a further few seconds of silence before wageslave 66 in the cube opposite me exhaled in disbelief "Jesus, you are so strange!"
The other wageslaves looked too stunned to even laugh nervously.
Rentokit marketing girl was laugh very nervously. Kind of close to a panic attack nervously.
They didn't teach her this shit at marketing school.
Number 1 looked to myself and Kelvin for support. "What? What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"
Kelvin, thinking about that expensive new apartment and credit card bill he had to fund, flustered and shrugged, laughing an embarrassingly false laugh.
All I could think about was American Psycho and the scene where Patrick Bateman tells some girl he is into 'Murders and executions' before revising it to 'Mergers and acquisitions.'
"That's real serial killer talk." I said.
Number 1 was intrigued. "Really? You think that's bad?
You should hear what Igor says to me sometimes during meetings.
We're sitting in my office looking at all the girls through the glass and he'd just say, out of the blue. Like Beavis and Butthead. Hur! Hur! See that girl there, I'd love to cut her head off and shag her through the neck. With, like, blood and guts flying everywhere. Ha! Ha!
Real sick shit like that. He's much worse than me."
"Jeez, why doesn't that surprise me. The creepy accountant guy with serial killer fantasies. Bet the girls love him." I replied.
Number 1 just laughed. He didn't care. He was God in this world that he had created.
"Now anyway, Shoo! Girlie!" he gesticulated to rentokit marketing girl. "Kelvin, will you come into my office. I have something I need to talk to you about. Now."
And he was gone.
Kelvin looked apologetically at rentokit marketing girl and shrugged, before pulling at bits of his hair. He seems to be developing this nervous tick lately. He'll probably start to lose clumps of it soon.
"Erm, I suppose I'll just talk to you then." She said to me looking kind of stunned.
"Go on then and you'd better sit down too "
She'll probably be gone to a new job in a month or two, I'd imagine. That is if Number 1 and his right hand man Igor don't get to her first.
Had managed to swing a few days off and was back at my cubicle with a serious case of 'work-shock.' My plan was to hide out in my earphones and avoid all human contact.
But first up was the morning meeting.
There was a huge hissy fit over a missed meeting, with hair tossing and lots of "I'm not putting you down, but..." put downs.
It was all acne, spots, half bitten nails and rash breakouts. A couple of alpha females were fighting for the affections of our boss. The dark satanic majesty that is Number 1.
One of them, a particularly ambitious little coke fiend called Trixiebelle, was suggesting how another more senior colleague could improve her working methods. Having just finished reading another self help, marketing guru book recommended her by Number 1, the new-speak was flying left right and centre.
I had no idea what they were saying. Terms like "trained in facilitating creativity." were being tossed off all over the place.
Someone actually said "we'll have to sit down after this meeting and arrange another meeting to talk about why we can't do this meeting next week."
They were facing off, pointing and pouting down the opposition and the testosterone was flying around the room.
Yup, the girls were in fine form today.
I was bored shitless but judging by his grin, it was like porn to Number 1.
We eventually got out and I escaped into my earphones and a world of Heavy Metal and emails.
The day dragged on until around 5 o'clock. Number 1 floats over to my supervisor, Kelvin and me. We are in the middle of talking to one of the less aggressive rentokit Marketing girls.
After hovering around leering at her for a few seconds, whilst waiting awkwardly for an opportunity to interrupt, he finally blurts out...
"You know I could just punch you in the face and rip that top of you. You'd be all covered in blood and shit and then I'd have my evil way with you right there! Ha Ha Ha!"
Silence.
It was one of those creepy tumbleweed moments. We didn't know where to look.
"What did you just say?" rentokit marketing girl gasped in disbelief.
and not getting the cue that he was being really creepy, Number 1 just went on to repeat himself.
"I Said, Hur! Hur! Did you hear this guys... that I could just punch her in the face and rip that top of. She'd be all covered in blood and... and then I could do whatever I wanted to her. Right there! Ha Ha Ha! What do ya reckon guys. Sounds good huh?" he leered at us conspiratorially.
There was a further few seconds of silence before wageslave 66 in the cube opposite me exhaled in disbelief "Jesus, you are so strange!"
The other wageslaves looked too stunned to even laugh nervously.
Rentokit marketing girl was laugh very nervously. Kind of close to a panic attack nervously.
They didn't teach her this shit at marketing school.
Number 1 looked to myself and Kelvin for support. "What? What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"
Kelvin, thinking about that expensive new apartment and credit card bill he had to fund, flustered and shrugged, laughing an embarrassingly false laugh.
All I could think about was American Psycho and the scene where Patrick Bateman tells some girl he is into 'Murders and executions' before revising it to 'Mergers and acquisitions.'
"That's real serial killer talk." I said.
Number 1 was intrigued. "Really? You think that's bad?
You should hear what Igor says to me sometimes during meetings.
We're sitting in my office looking at all the girls through the glass and he'd just say, out of the blue. Like Beavis and Butthead. Hur! Hur! See that girl there, I'd love to cut her head off and shag her through the neck. With, like, blood and guts flying everywhere. Ha! Ha!
Real sick shit like that. He's much worse than me."
"Jeez, why doesn't that surprise me. The creepy accountant guy with serial killer fantasies. Bet the girls love him." I replied.
Number 1 just laughed. He didn't care. He was God in this world that he had created.
"Now anyway, Shoo! Girlie!" he gesticulated to rentokit marketing girl. "Kelvin, will you come into my office. I have something I need to talk to you about. Now."
And he was gone.
Kelvin looked apologetically at rentokit marketing girl and shrugged, before pulling at bits of his hair. He seems to be developing this nervous tick lately. He'll probably start to lose clumps of it soon.
"Erm, I suppose I'll just talk to you then." She said to me looking kind of stunned.
"Go on then and you'd better sit down too "
She'll probably be gone to a new job in a month or two, I'd imagine. That is if Number 1 and his right hand man Igor don't get to her first.
