Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Ivey Tilsley and black guys as 'ambient media'
mydaysasawageslave.com
I'm having breakfast and i hear on the radio that some guy was thrown into a crowded cell in Mountjoy with a bunch of nutters.
He said they'd probably kill him. And they did.
I get into my low to medium powered desk job and see that one of the rent-o-kit marketing girls has a book prominently displayed on her desk, that is actually called 'Don't argue with the Boss. How to keep your boss happy and 55 other tips to doing well at work'.
Short of writing I am submissive and will sleep with you if asked I figure our boss (No.1) was pretty happy when he saw that.
But it was too early for a rant so I went into the kitchen in search of strong coffee and chocolate.
Another rent-o-kit marketing type had a package from Amazon.
"What's that?" I asked. "anything nice?"
"No, not really."
"Go on what is it. A good read for the beach? DVD? What?"
"You wouldn't like it."
"Try me."
"It's a book about working better within your company... kind of gives you tips on how to look more... you know, successful. And... er, confident. That kind of thing."
"Really?"
"uh huh."
Fuck! that's a real conversation killer, I thought to myself.
All I could muster was "Ok. Anyway, where's that coffee."
There was a time when women used to read books and fill problem pages about how to please their husbands and boyfriends. Seems they've given up on that idea and decided they're better off keeping their bosses happy.
I blame Heather Locklear out of Melrose Place.
I went back in with my coffee when I overheard a particularly wealthy but horsey faced girl ask one of the lower runged rent-o-kit marketing girls "Do you know how to shop in Argos?"
I nearly spat into my coffee with laughter at the way she made it sound a total insult.
If Posh Spice was too posh to push, Bebe Belvedere-Brown was too posh to shop in Argos.
The lowly placed (and salaried) rent-o-kit marketing girl explained patiently how someone would buy something through a catalogue, without the help of a sales assistant or personal shopper, to someone long used to dining out on daddies money.
It was a truly memorable moment.
After faffing around with my emails for a while I found a reason to pop out and get some supplies on Baggot Street.
On my way I passed a bored looking black guy sitting on a chair holding a sandwich board advertising an executive gym to all the stressed out young executives rushing by.
I think they call him 'ambient media' these days.
there was something about it that made me feel uncomfortable though. It and the events of my morning so far. It all felt like I was seeing a film about a very strange and alien place play out in front of me.
It was so bad I was intrigued. Like bad science fiction.
When I went back to the office I put a picture of a champaign swilling Ivey Tilsley (Lyn Perry) on the server and no one knows who she is.
They probably think she's my mum or porn, or something.
Classy.
I'm having breakfast and i hear on the radio that some guy was thrown into a crowded cell in Mountjoy with a bunch of nutters.
He said they'd probably kill him. And they did.
I get into my low to medium powered desk job and see that one of the rent-o-kit marketing girls has a book prominently displayed on her desk, that is actually called 'Don't argue with the Boss. How to keep your boss happy and 55 other tips to doing well at work'.
Short of writing I am submissive and will sleep with you if asked I figure our boss (No.1) was pretty happy when he saw that.
But it was too early for a rant so I went into the kitchen in search of strong coffee and chocolate.
Another rent-o-kit marketing type had a package from Amazon.
"What's that?" I asked. "anything nice?"
"No, not really."
"Go on what is it. A good read for the beach? DVD? What?"
"You wouldn't like it."
"Try me."
"It's a book about working better within your company... kind of gives you tips on how to look more... you know, successful. And... er, confident. That kind of thing."
"Really?"
"uh huh."
Fuck! that's a real conversation killer, I thought to myself.
All I could muster was "Ok. Anyway, where's that coffee."
There was a time when women used to read books and fill problem pages about how to please their husbands and boyfriends. Seems they've given up on that idea and decided they're better off keeping their bosses happy.
I blame Heather Locklear out of Melrose Place.
I went back in with my coffee when I overheard a particularly wealthy but horsey faced girl ask one of the lower runged rent-o-kit marketing girls "Do you know how to shop in Argos?"
I nearly spat into my coffee with laughter at the way she made it sound a total insult.
If Posh Spice was too posh to push, Bebe Belvedere-Brown was too posh to shop in Argos.
The lowly placed (and salaried) rent-o-kit marketing girl explained patiently how someone would buy something through a catalogue, without the help of a sales assistant or personal shopper, to someone long used to dining out on daddies money.
It was a truly memorable moment.
After faffing around with my emails for a while I found a reason to pop out and get some supplies on Baggot Street.
On my way I passed a bored looking black guy sitting on a chair holding a sandwich board advertising an executive gym to all the stressed out young executives rushing by.
I think they call him 'ambient media' these days.
there was something about it that made me feel uncomfortable though. It and the events of my morning so far. It all felt like I was seeing a film about a very strange and alien place play out in front of me.
It was so bad I was intrigued. Like bad science fiction.
When I went back to the office I put a picture of a champaign swilling Ivey Tilsley (Lyn Perry) on the server and no one knows who she is.
They probably think she's my mum or porn, or something.
Classy.
# posted by mydaysasawageslave @ 4:50 AM 
