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Andy's Avatar
NIGHTMARE IN THE OFFICE.

I work in the city. Having studied economics at the LSE after my father advising it was the best thing I found my thoughts soon fell in tune with the dance of the economy. One never had to struggle, I know, but one never seriously considered the socialism question. I would say, more or less, it is a thing that's been tried and tested. There are those at the bottom and I suppose it is nice to think that one day they, or their families won't be there but, well you know, it is also nice to think that one day there will be populations living on Mars, a climate similar to earth, our kind gradually branching out into the solar system.

Yet, this is just the human imagination isn't it. I have also had my share and throughout school (a rather good one, you know I am aware of having been privileged, Cynth my girlfriend always draws my atention to the fact we 'never had it hard' on Sundays when we often share thoughts on a special feature on India or somewhere in the Observer); throughout school and college and even after there was always a secondary 'me' who was involved in a far more couragous life; he gradually dwindled, what with the demands of the work-a-day world and all that yet who ever really dispels the little personal myths that help make life livable.

In fact, I have to admit, sometimes the dream starts to converge rather too much with my day light life. I'm in the office which overlooks both the swathe of standard sky-scrapers and the internal space of our office building, a zig-zag of esculators, greenery, office space gazing into office space. I'm up near the top and one of the leading lights in the firm but not as high as this 'other me' likes to imagine. This is all owned by me, and even conceived at the level of architecture by me. I have developed a suite of photo's and various awards which I have upon a concealed wall in the office that actually narrate a mock history which culminates in the acquisition of a business empire. This wall can be completely concealed when anyone should enter my space.

My space. A desk and prefab walls. I am sitting now looking at my CV. I did not go to the LSE. I do not have a girlfriend called Cynth. I am tired and sick of this routine and, through a course at night-school am hoping I might be able to find something in the stock trading line that at least has some kind of financial reward. Yet what have I just done?

He was telling me about my performance and how if I didn't improve they would have to find someone who could meet the new requirements. He has never spoken to me as if I were a human being. He asked me to go and pick up something from his desk, a book on 'having perspectives to reach objectives' and said, as I mulched over to pick it up, said if he was me he would be disgusted with himself. Well I just picked up the laser printer and brought it down on his head. I walked out and barely thought about it.

I work in the city. Having studied economics at the LSE after my father advising it was the best thing I found my thoughts soon fell in tune with the dance of the economy. One never had to struggle, I know, but one never seriously considered the socialism question. I would say, more or less, it is a thing that's been tried and tested. There are those at the bottom and I suppose it is nice to think that one day they, or their families won't be there but, well you know, it is also nice to think that one day there will be populations living on Mars, a climate similar to earth, our kind gradually branching out into the solar system.
Posted 08-01-2008 at 11:16 AM by Andy Andy is offline
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PoseidonsNet's Avatar
Posted 08-09-2008 at 12:20 PM by PoseidonsNet PoseidonsNet is offline
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Andy's Avatar
There was a full moon that night (a tale from the East End gangs)


Mick was thick. Mick didn't ever do what the guvner wanted. The Guvner was never questioned and all the fuckers knew all about that. Mick knew but Mick was thick. Mick knew the guvners woman and ee'd always been sort of nice to 'er but that didn't make no difference when the shit went down. No way did it; no fucking way. Cos, Mick, you see, Mick was thick. It wos like ee wos born yesterday, know whatimean?

It was the Borstal boys that done it; they'd told the guvner all about Mick. Mick ad been down the local like shooting 'is fuckin' mouth off like no tommorow. Eed ad a few for sure but noone goes down the Queen Mary (where all the guvners boys ang out) and talks like Mick did. So Mick's goin on about the Mercs and Jags that we ad appened to acquire recently through various sources (know what I mean ?) and ees goin' on about ow's they were no good and bleedin' too old to get any decent return like. Only Mick would do that. Mick, ees so fucking thick Mick.

Anyhow; old Mick's got 'is eyes on this bird named Nora oos nothin' much really but a luvely pair on 'er if I don't say so meself (and I ad er once ow about you mate you ever ad Nora?). Someow despite Mick's limited luck wiv the girls ee manages to get er out the door and down to the canal where ee often likes young ladies of the easily persuaded sort to accompany 'im (know what I mean?). Anyow, there they are on is favourite bench and the guvners boys ave the perfec opportunity to show Mick in what i regards the guvner olds the little bastard. The bird starts screamin' and gets a bar in the face and she soon shuts the fuck up; thick Mick tries to scarper but they've got meat cleavers and a stun gun and he's soon rendered armless (and this is no spelling mistake for once).

EE wos legless too (and this is no bleeding spelling mistake too) and it's bleeding hard to swim in the bleeding canal when you are both legless and armless too. Well needless to say thick Mick must ave realised that talking about the guvner's acquiring luxury cars and deriding this achievement in 'is local is not the best policy if you wanna continue living. Needless to say it were a little late for the call of conscience.

Well it were a full moon that night and the way it played on the water as I erd those tormented cries struck me (with me stoney world weary 'eart) as rather beautiful. That is why I was drawn to share the event of that night with you also. Maybe too there is a moral to this tale; don't shoot your mouth off in the guvner's local about the givner's fucking business.
Posted 08-12-2008 at 11:33 PM by Andy Andy is offline
Updated 08-14-2008 at 11:06 AM by Andy
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Cheer up, Friend. Life is not a job.
Posted 08-14-2008 at 08:16 AM by Light Years Light Years is offline
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Neftel Leli's Avatar
Yep. It's a good idea to not shoot your mouth at the guvner's local. I had no idea you were this creative Andy.

Thanks for the funny tale.
Posted 09-13-2008 at 04:06 AM by Neftel Leli Neftel Leli is offline
 
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