June 2017

Welcome to the corporate rat race…**


Arrive at work ten minutes late mumbling something incomprehensible about traffic, despite clutching a Starbucks with my hair full of shag tats. The three people who have actually arrived on time don’t care so I stop mid-sentence and sit down.


Quick scope of the immediate area to check that enough people have got a hot drinks so I can offer to do the brew round safely in the knowledge that everyone will decline and I can go and make my own in peace.


Finally get back to my desk after getting cornered by the office rent-a-gob who took it upon himself to tell me every car he’s ever owned. “Oh you drive an Audi? Bit fast for a little women like you isn’t it? HAR HAR HAR.”  Check emails.


The serial sick-note of the office has sent today’s excuse to all@ rather than just his manager. I suppose I should be pissed off that he always get away with this, but honestly I’m impressed. I should take notes.


Hunger pangs set in as I realise I completely forgot breakfast, again. I notice an unopened birthday cake on the meeting table brought in for someone on another team I’ve only spoken to once. I wait anxiously for someone to take the first slice so I can go up, but nobody does. 


Roll eyes. Apparently “you know that e-mail I CC’d you into last week?” actually translates to “I’m wondering why you haven’t completely dealt with that e-mail I CC’d you into last week, even though you weren’t the primary recipient and I haven’t bothered to mention it to you since.” 


Start campaign planning for a new client. I actually start to get excited until I thud back down to earth realising that 90% of my ideas are too “out the box” for the middle aged men who control the budgets. Start over.


Stare desperately at the laptop clock willing it to turn to 12 so I can eat.

office diary


Notice one of my colleagues having a self-contained breakdown by the printer she must have just broken. She’s clearly panicking but not asking anyone for help, probably because she’s trying to print something she shouldn’t. Like CV’s.


In the middle of writing a press release when I have to stop to read the daily passive aggressive email off the fella-who-thinks-he’s-my-boss-but-isn’t. Copy and paste it to the private Skype group we’ve called “the real MVP” with a bitchy comment. Check I didn’t send it to him by accident 4 times a minute for the next ten minutes.


Scroll through the Daily Mail’s sidebar of shame, only in Marketing can this be seen as research. Not that I should worry; I can clearly see a colleague watching an entire episode of The Inbetweeners on 4OD without even a faint attempt at being discreet.


Someone has sent an all user email about a work night out next week, which is basically the start of a free-for-all competition of who can reply with the most relevant mediocre meme. I can here murder kicking off in a meeting room.


Another passive aggressive email from the fella-who-thinks-he’s-my-boss-but-isn’t, this time asking for work to be done by tomorrow morning at 4pm. Cute.


My colleagues and I pretend we’re doing a client handover and head to a meeting room to discuss putting and end to his reign of terror/enjoy the air conditioning which seems to be reserved solely for client meetings. We spend a good five minutes talking about the (still unopened) birthday cake.


Mass exodus of everyone who shut their computers down at five to and waited patiently to bail. I’m staying late – partly because I was late this morning and partly because the murder in one of the meeting rooms is still going on and, frankly, I live for drama.

Until next time… x

** Did I write this, or did an anonymous source? Is it true? Who knows.Welcome to the world of PR and marketing.


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