I am wearing a blue wig, taping a strap to an inflatable guitar, and trying to sell online credit card processing to the First Church of Wicca and Heathens in New Zealand.
We have the Christmas party this evening, and everyone (myself included) is over-excited and has pretty much stopped working already. (George: "I am going to compile a spreadsheet of the ugliest people I can find on Google.") It is ten past two. (My Boss, if you're reading this, I am totally kidding and also right about to call Paul from Thingy Automotive that I forgot to call yesterday.) Luckily the few stray and completely unwelcome customers who do call in have no way of knowing that while we’re all sitting here giving sales spiels, we’re hitting each other with guitars and, in some cases, wearing leather airmen’s head-things. I don’t know what they’re called, but Snoopy wore one when he flew and now Graeme is wearing one as he soars into the sales stratosphere, ha ha ha. Leather balaclava? Hmm.
I am going to be well-behaved at the staff party tonight! I am so dedicated to this life (well, evening) of good behaviour that I have not brought any going-to-town clothes or shaved my legs. In reality, all this means is that I will be as badly behaved as usual, just in a more hairy and slovenly fashion than usual. Oh no wait, no more hairy and slovenly than usual because this is always my plan! I need a new plan or stronger moral fibre.
Oh yeah. Kane, who I believe I may have previously referred to as the Gung-Ho Kid due to his propensity to charge headfirst into things full of cheer and ebullience, and then realise ten seconds later that probably he should bail out, wrote a rude note on the pod whiteboard yesterday (yes, our pod has a whiteboard. And a radio, and a recycling bin, and we used to have a plant (remember when I went on and on about that plant? Boring, wasn’t it? No inflatable guitars in sight then!), but then George moved into our pod and the plant had to go because she was bigger than it and wanted its desk. Bloody George. Frankly I would rather George moved…no, wait, that’s not true, I like George, I just liked the plant too and it caused less trouble than she does and didn't yell "PRICK!" when I was on a phone call, unlike George this afternoon). ANYWAY yesterday I announced that I had 22 more days at EFTPOS (oh yeah, I resigned and am moving back to Christchurch – did I mention that? Maybe not, huh) and left the pod to I don’t know, go and buy a sandwich or something, and when I came back there was a countdown-style display on the whiteboard saying “22 Days Until Hitler Leaves!” I like to think it was a bit of playful joshing. Ha, ha!
Kane is a dick. (But luckily, a dick with limited internet access after an unfortunate innappropriate-usage incident (wow, that sounds way worse than it was.)) I did warn him that I was going to use this blog to spread the word, so he shouldn't be surprised. I'm not angry, Kane. I'm just disappointed.
Speaking of my workmates, Kristy says Hi. I think she was talking to someone else but whatever. My workmates have started reading my blog. So now I can’t complain about them. Unless I give them really cryptic codenames and they all think I’m talking about someone else…yeee-ees. Yeeee-eeeessss.
Speaking of work. I am going to go to the bank, and then perhaps to Subway, and then to pay the power bill.