horribly outdated equipment. The keyboard was stained yellow from age. The monitor was the same 16” CRT that he’d used when starting the position, this really was a dead end job.
“Did you not get the memo?” said Jones in a smarmy tone.
“Memo?”
Dave knew about the memo, but he would never give Jones the satisfaction of knowing it. That bastard would be an anal git about every potential issue he could, just to make full use of the little power he held.
“Employees are not to tilt back on their chairs. It’s a health and safety hazard. Any and all injuries or damage of equipment as a result of doing so will be at the employee’s expense and liability,” said Jones.
Dave could do or say nothing without bringing down the wrath of the utter bastard, so he simply nodded and carried on with his work. Jones stood upright triumphantly and looked out across the miserly amount of office space he controlled, as smug as ever.
“Where’s Chris?” said Jones.
He was his usual obnoxious self. Chris’s seat was empty, his computer not even turned on. The man had clearly never arrived at work. Chris was a decent chap, not all that interesting, but friendly. He liked nothing more than to simply lay about the house, have the odd BBQ and watch the footie. But Dave knew for a fact that he’d been on a weekend away to Benidorm with his girlfriend, so was probably wasted. Dave felt sorry for Chris already, fully understanding the painfully annoying rant he would receive.
“Did Chris sign in this morning?” asked Jones.
The office only had fifteen computers in it and just as many workers. It was astonishing it had taken Jones an hour to notice someone was missing. He was probably busy tough talking his nancy boy henchmen, the pathetic creatures who would lick his boots for a good word. The room looked around at Jones, a few muttered, but nobody committed to a real answer. In all honesty, Dave wasn’t even sure if he had seen Chris today, as his mind had just switched off to the boredom of the nine to five. Jones picked up a nearby phone, not caring to make the call private, it was for all to hear.
“Chris? You’re an hour late for work, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
You would think the world was in danger from the lack of Chris’s presence, but no, he was just late for more endlessly pointless and boring work.
“I don’t care how rough you feel, you didn’t call in sick, stop giving me excuses and take some responsibility, get here now!”
Jones slammed the phone down and walked out of the room, clearly going to ensure Chris had the hour docked from his salary, and a mark against his record. Another two hours went by, sweat dripped from Dave’s face on to his poorly ironed white shirt. He mindlessly entered data, not even sure anymore if the work actually achieved anything, or if he was simply employed for the sake of it. Perhaps its purpose was to fulfil some requirement of the business, or maybe to help avoid the upper management assholes some tax that they should be paying. The reason for his work simply didn’t matter anymore, he got paid, that was all that was important, and at least he had a job.
Desperate for the toilet, having drunk too much coffee to try and survive the morning, Dave walked off to the men’s room. Standing at the urinal he sighed in relief, it was the best feeling all day. Walking over to the wash basins he looked out the window down onto the street below. An ambulance and police car were parked up on the pavement, lights still flashing. Two coppers nearby were beating a man on the floor with their truncheons.
“Bastards, if only I could get my hands on you,” said Dave.
He left the toilets and headed back to his desk. Despite still being in full stride, he was simply on autopilot. Dave was day dreaming, just thinking of Stallone in Rambo II shooting up the office with his M60. It was a pleasant thought, and one he only wished he could replicate. Getting back
“Did you not get the memo?” said Jones in a smarmy tone.
“Memo?”
Dave knew about the memo, but he would never give Jones the satisfaction of knowing it. That bastard would be an anal git about every potential issue he could, just to make full use of the little power he held.
“Employees are not to tilt back on their chairs. It’s a health and safety hazard. Any and all injuries or damage of equipment as a result of doing so will be at the employee’s expense and liability,” said Jones.
Dave could do or say nothing without bringing down the wrath of the utter bastard, so he simply nodded and carried on with his work. Jones stood upright triumphantly and looked out across the miserly amount of office space he controlled, as smug as ever.
“Where’s Chris?” said Jones.
He was his usual obnoxious self. Chris’s seat was empty, his computer not even turned on. The man had clearly never arrived at work. Chris was a decent chap, not all that interesting, but friendly. He liked nothing more than to simply lay about the house, have the odd BBQ and watch the footie. But Dave knew for a fact that he’d been on a weekend away to Benidorm with his girlfriend, so was probably wasted. Dave felt sorry for Chris already, fully understanding the painfully annoying rant he would receive.
“Did Chris sign in this morning?” asked Jones.
The office only had fifteen computers in it and just as many workers. It was astonishing it had taken Jones an hour to notice someone was missing. He was probably busy tough talking his nancy boy henchmen, the pathetic creatures who would lick his boots for a good word. The room looked around at Jones, a few muttered, but nobody committed to a real answer. In all honesty, Dave wasn’t even sure if he had seen Chris today, as his mind had just switched off to the boredom of the nine to five. Jones picked up a nearby phone, not caring to make the call private, it was for all to hear.
“Chris? You’re an hour late for work, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
You would think the world was in danger from the lack of Chris’s presence, but no, he was just late for more endlessly pointless and boring work.
“I don’t care how rough you feel, you didn’t call in sick, stop giving me excuses and take some responsibility, get here now!”
Jones slammed the phone down and walked out of the room, clearly going to ensure Chris had the hour docked from his salary, and a mark against his record. Another two hours went by, sweat dripped from Dave’s face on to his poorly ironed white shirt. He mindlessly entered data, not even sure anymore if the work actually achieved anything, or if he was simply employed for the sake of it. Perhaps its purpose was to fulfil some requirement of the business, or maybe to help avoid the upper management assholes some tax that they should be paying. The reason for his work simply didn’t matter anymore, he got paid, that was all that was important, and at least he had a job.
Desperate for the toilet, having drunk too much coffee to try and survive the morning, Dave walked off to the men’s room. Standing at the urinal he sighed in relief, it was the best feeling all day. Walking over to the wash basins he looked out the window down onto the street below. An ambulance and police car were parked up on the pavement, lights still flashing. Two coppers nearby were beating a man on the floor with their truncheons.
“Bastards, if only I could get my hands on you,” said Dave.
He left the toilets and headed back to his desk. Despite still being in full stride, he was simply on autopilot. Dave was day dreaming, just thinking of Stallone in Rambo II shooting up the office with his M60. It was a pleasant thought, and one he only wished he could replicate. Getting back
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