A shared secret

I just thought I would share with you a little secret. Today I went into work and did nothing and still got paid.
Excellent ... well, not quite and if you want to know why it isn't just read on.

I arrived at work today on time, switched on my computer, had a cup of tea, read some emails and had some Wheetabix from the box under my desk that I had bought for just such an occasion a few days earlier.

A bit later I opened an excel document or two, recalculated my finances and rejigged how I can get from here to there and back again without having to rob banks in between.

My first glance at the clock said that it was only 10.01am.

I then had to explain and prove to the firms managing director that 8% of £22,000 was not £4,000.

I then sent a rambling email around the office asking for staff to not return their expense forms unsigned, undated and with ticks all down the page instead of numbers ( it was an EXCEL document with automatic cross casting and grand totalling after all ! ).

My second glance at the clock told me it was only 11.25am. I start to hate the clock.

I scratched my chin, made polite conversation about the football game last night and tried to hide the fact that I had an empty desk.

The demon clock gleefully told me it was now as late as 11.31am!

I opened up a few different applications and whiled away a good hour or so by highlighting sections with the mice and then switching back and forth between the packages and stroking my chin a lot in contemplation.

Then I went for lunch, dropped another sold book off to the post office and came back to my desk.

In an effort to keep myself awake I made a cup of treble strength coffee, extra sugar so that it was drinkable and then tried to wedge paperclips in my eyes without anyone noticing.

I refilled both photocopiers with paper and toner, refilled the small little paper cups in the water vending machine, refilled the various printers and fax machines.

Sad to say the next time I looked up at the clock it was only 2.08pm.

A hour or so later I made a quick personal phone call on my mobile, tried to avoid the hating stares from my colleagues who have work coming out of their ears, and cleaned my desk of the little bits of fluff that get trapped at the bottom of mice and in keyboards.

A bit later still I had went for a stroll around the office, then came back to find nothing had changed.
It was still only 3.54pm.

I read a few personal emails viewing my browser in a tiny envelope window at the bottom of my screen to try and stop the rest of the staff from spotting it and / or reading what was there.

I forward casted a few excel documents to take my replacement up until the year 2015 without ever needing to create any new documents.

It was still only 4.55pm.

I made another cup of tea, replaced the mini paperclips I'd earlier inserted into my eyes with the industrial size ones, refined Einstein's theory of relativity and memorised pi to the millionth decimal place.

It was still only 5.20pm.

Then, to kill a bit of time before clocking off, I went and hid away in the bathroom until I could hear other people start to pack up, when I could then feel safe to return to my desk, deftly switch my computer off, grab my jacket and rucksack and after signing myself out made my way back to Victoria train station.

On the train ride home the stress of my high powered executive job almost ... almost prevented me from falling into a deep coma the second my head hit the back of the padded BR seat. Personally I think that I'm probably suffering from fatigue due to the physical demands of my position!

And as I sit here now, the only thing that is preventing me from stripping naked and running deep into the night at the fearful thought that "It is only Wednesday and tomorrow when I go in to work I will have even less work to do that I did have today !!!" is the saving grace that the big countdown is on and progressing steadily.

In 162 days time I will never have to go back to my desk again and boy, do I need a light at the end of the tunnel to keep on doing this mind numbingly boring routine.