Calling All Armchair Despots!

When you do what I do for a living, the mind tends to wander off in search of improved mental stimulation. Of course, this generally involves internet abuse, scribbling out food shopping lists and doodling on notepads. Today however, I got to thinking about what might happen if we were to declare our own countries.

Think of the little part of the world you live in and imagine what you would do with it if it were to gain independence. My thoughts on the subject are as follows..............

The state would be named 'The Peoples Republic of Maryhill'. Initially I would run the state from the burnt out ruins of the Community Central Halls, as a symbolic gesture, before re-locating to the rather comfier local housing association offices until the mess made by my bloody coup was cleared up. I would then elect a polit-bureau consisting entirely of family members, friends and whatever local mental cases join my cause. The economy would be based on three nationalised industries. Fast food, off licenses and a scratch card lottery with bogus prizes. Plans to invade Springburn, Hillhead and Possilpark would be formulated in due course.

Sounds like paradise!

Ok, your turn now. I need some allies........................ ;)

Dawn Of The Dead: The Desk Jockey Years

That's it! I've hit the wall. I am no longer young and I need to sleep!

This little epiphany dawned on me today as I almost nodded out in the office. Eyes going fuzzy and feeling like lead weights, unable to move from page to screen and back again without concerted effort, they close briefly and suddenly gravity cracks me one on the back of the head and I'm heading face first for the keyboard. The shock snaps me out just in time and a little adrenalin rush perks me for another five minutes. I look around to see if anyone noticed (they hadn't) and made my way wearily back to the kitchen for more coffee.

I now realise I need to be asleep by 1amv at the latest, that I can't really drink too much on a school night and that buying pakora from the carry out at the bottom of the road at 2.15am is not really good idea. Theres nothing worse than admitting defeat, but there you are.............

Of course, in the old days I'd get leathered on cheap cider or rum miniatures, then happily do a six hour shift in a kitchen the following day. Piece of piss mate! Nowadays, it only takes a couple of shandies to make me feel a bit grubby next day. Also doesn't help that my life is that bit more sedentary now. The job occassionally calls for a bit of physical work, but more often than not I'm stuck at a PC, exercising nothing more than my right forefinger. I actually look forward to filing work. Means I'm out of the beady eyed glare of my boss and I'm able to move about and keep myself awake.

Sometimes I miss the 'pissing adrenalin' effect I got from my last job. Phone work means you're constantly on edge, as does working in a payroll office where everything has to be kept ahead of itself from week to week.

So, that's why I'm blogging now and not at 1am. I actually wanna get through tomorrow without having half a dozen narcoleptic episodes and have everyone think I'm on smack or something. Not that it matters I suppose. The new overlords look to be in Alan Sugar mode, firing people left, right and centre. Ok, technically they're 'laying people off', but that doesn't really fit in with the blatant pop culture reference, does it?

"You're Being Made Redundant!" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Am I next? Who knows. They've layed off most of the IT dept in Glasgow and got rid of the cash room. It all points one way to me and I'm not pleased. The last fucking thing I need to be doing just now, about to move into a house and trying to get something approaching savings together, is to be looking over my shoulder and having to find a new job.

Cunts!

Ok, heres what's amusing me on the internet tonight.

Mustafio, he make me smile. So does Billy, the stuff about the Heathrow Airport expansion is eye-popping. Matt at Oblong Scone ponders the nature of door holding etiquette and religious zealotry, while professional smart arse Dan Allen hi-lights sports journalism cliches and wonders why nobody's used the headline "San Diego Padres molested the Twins" . Quite frankly, the standard of sports journalism is universally bad, but considering the fucking ludicrous names the Yanks give their sports teams, I'm quite astonished that nobody has given in to the temptation...........

Dan, we salute you!

We Have Come To Assimilate You

Serves me right I suppose. A few hours out the office I thought, maybe a few buns and a cup of tea......back in time for lunch and an easy day for all concerned......

Aye right! Inductions are hell. If any of you have ever worked for a company that has been 'merged' with a bigger firm (or taken over if you wish to dispense with the euphemisms) you'll know the procedure. Two gonks from the new company come and tell you things you really have no interest in knowing, interspersing the flannel with self-conscious usage of words like "Synergy" and nervous chuckling at their own lame banter.

I'm being a bit unfair as the nature of the business I work for means that a lot of people have concerns about the whole deal regarding their careers. They're not all workshy, apathetic curs you know. I am though and quite frankly I wish companies would give people like me the recognition we deserve and exempt us from such tedious balderdash. Do I have to get a T-shirt printed saying "I Won't Be Here A Years Time" ?

Oh, and they're big on "Diversity". Ha! Diversity training, I'm looking forward to that one.....

What is it? How does it go? Has anyone been through it? It sounds sinister, but maybe it isn't. maybe it's worse than that.

Maybe it's boring as fuck.

Oh, and I never did get the tea and buns. The tight bastards!