mydaysasawageslave.com

I'm sitting waiting on the phone to ring with the news that my boss is in the process of being beaten senseless outside the office.

Some poor unfortunate had the temerity to park in his (Number 1's) favoured parking space this morning. In retaliation, he has blocked them in, so that they have to call him to get away. At which point he plans on menacing the hell out of them.

This is bread and butter to him. Kind of like a hobby. He loves menacing and bullying his underlings here, and by and large they all take it. When people get fed up with it, they just leave quietly. Or in pieces.

I personally hold every middle aged business man / suit / corporate lizard type responsible for this behavior. Way I see it is, chances are they are just like my Number 1 in their organisation, so if I can make them uncomfortable in any way, I'm striking a blow for all the wageslaves like me who have to deal with their bullying on a daily basis.

I will go out of my way to annoy or confront one of them in the course of my day. At the moment I am involved in an ongoing feud with someone else's Number 1 across the road. He is going mad over the fact I chain my bike to a railing near a spot he favors for parking his BMW.

He doesn't own the railing.

He doesn't own the street.

And he doesn't own me. Yet.

He only seems to turn up maybe once a week. In a hyper aggressive mood. Obviously offended at having to look at an eyesore he probably equates with being a communist or something, threatening to cut my bike off the railing.

Off course I love the fact that he is getting into such a rage. And anyway, his car would make a bigger target than my bike if he wants to go down that road.

So I'm sitting here hoping that when the other car's owner turns up, he is a grade A, Tony Soprana style, violent nutjob, who, maybe, has decided to pulverize the next person to criticize his parking.

I told this week's receptionist to give me a call when ever it 'kicks off'. This is one fight I'd pay to watch.

I worked with a media company on Ely Place a few years back where they switched courier companies. The old one's owner got drunk with some dodgy gangster 'friend' of his and came round to rough up my boss and his office. They locked the door and threatened him with a fire extinguisher.

I think he had to pay them off. A couple of the other wageslave desk-jockeys actually suggested "we go in there and give him a hand!"

I think they thought they were on that Flight 93 on 911, fighting back against a gang of Terrorists.

I was only there a couple of weeks at this stage, "Fuck that!" I said. "I don't know any of those guys in there. I'm not going to get killed 'cause it's part of my job."

The other guys saw sense.

One girl, Jean, tried to get involved but ended up in tears. The gangsters left and our boss sheepishly came out a few minutes later, ridiculously claiming he had scared them off!

Over the course of time the only regret of those desk-jockeys, was that they didn't go in there and put in the boot themselves, as one by one they were fucked over by the boss.

So I'm sitting here waiting for the phone call to say a large east European psychopath is killing my boss in a needless dispute over a car parking space.

In reality the driver of the offending car will probably be a pleasant and stressed pregnant woman, rushing to collect her kids or something. And Number 1 will have his fun at her expense. Like he always does.

Still here's hoping.

Someone said you could get a bunch of monkeys to write the entire works of Shakespeare if you gave them enough time and a typewriter.

My Boss, Number 1, once said he'd much rather assign seat numbers than put names to the new faces that kept popping up around the place. That way everything could stay the same for him and the person in my seat would always be Number 29. And so on.

I was thinking of sending a dog into work in my place and see if anyone noticed.

Would he still be referred to as wageslave 29. Merely an operative filling a seat. My seat.

On the plus side from my employer's point of view, he would probably spend less time online than me. Or on the phone. Or drinking coffee. Or whinging.

The turnover would probably be high though, down to the whole dog years versus human and all that. He'd have been here 10 plus years already in place of my year and three quarters.

Then again the turnover's pretty high as it is. We lost another receptionist this week. She lasted maybe 3 months. What's that in dog years? A year and three quarters or something. Sometimes this job feels like it's going by in dog years.

Not that it's much different most other places. My mate johnbob21 says we're all like like Father Ted's on our various Craggy Island's where there is always an equivalent Father Jack type has-been, a Dougal type young idiot and you.

Recent interviews have confirmed this to me and along with my growing addiction to YouTube, I have found my motivation seriously lacking of late.

Think I'll revert to plan B and gradually send in a well trained pet in my place.

Maybe after a while he could swop job chairs with some other well trained pet in a job just like mine on another island, just like mine.

Someday.