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Man finds out on Monday what he did at drinks on Friday

A MAN has arrived at his office prompt and early on Monday morning to be informed of what took place late and intoxicated on Friday evening. 

Jack Browne, aged 26, saw off the working week with a few harmless drinks and a couple of technical black-outs on Friday and is now waiting to hear what happened, who he offended and why he is no longer being considered for promotion.

He said: “Yeah, no big deal, I just can’t really remember getting home or anything after the Jägerbombs at 6pm. Good night?

“I do remember having indigestion from knocking back the two-for-one lagers and being relieved that a little tray of Gaviscon shots arrived, then after doing two discovering they were tequila rose. After that my recall goes off like a light.

“It’s been total silence on the work group chat, suggesting I’m being ripped to shreds on a separate group chat. Was I sick? Did I fight? Did I attempt to score coke? Did I try to get off with Collette? Or Emma? Or Anna? Or all three?

“At the very least I’m confident I soiled myself. My jeans were in the washing machine on Saturday morning, that only means one thing. Did I do it in front of everyone while singing Back For Good on the karaoke? Did they cheer while the stain grew and darkened? Oh God.”

Colleague Grace Wood-Morris said: “Was Jack there on Friday? He’s boring and I never notice him.”

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How to get someone to f**k off away from your desk and let you work

THE key office skillset is not implementing core competencies or working the printer. It’s persuading twats to piss off back to their twat desks with twat bobbleheads on. Say this: 

“I’m afraid this is urgent”

You work in middle management; what you’re doing cannot therefore be vital. Before Carly came over prattling bullshit you were Googling Natascha McElhone, but now you urgently need to answer an email. She doesn’t know it’s from your son’s school warning of a ringworm outbreak as you furiously type a reply.

“I’ve just got to put these on” 

Today’s headphone-happy office is a gift for avoiding conversation, but is it rude to put them on when Phil’s mid-anecdote about seeing a 1977 Alfa Romeo spider on the A134? Not at all. Pretend it’s just a physical process, like a snail retracting into its shell, and smile brightly. He’ll carry on talking. His anecdote’s for him, really.

“Let me just hammer the keys like it’s a John Bonham drum solo” 

Drowning your interlocutor out not with business but sheer noise. Bang away at that keyboard as if you can raise a Cardiff industrial stapler import business to the FTSE 100 by force alone. Sweat like a hacker in a 90s movie. Add a single tear at the eloquence of your invoice if you must. Don’t just type ‘piss off piss off piss off’.

“Hang on a sec while I place the final brick in my stationery fort” 

Gradually build a wall between yourself and Gina, who is getting married in 2028 and talks about it all day every day. Beginning with a few notebooks, build a fortification that even the the most erect office meerkat can’t see over, and place the final ream of A4 in it like Roger Waters in The Wall. 

“If you’ll excuse me I must vomit copiously” 

Begin convulsing as Andreas begins explaining the important of adhering to ISO 9001 standards. By two minutes in, you should be giving it the full John Hurt in Alien. Jackknife to the ground and thrash. He should leave. If not, remember snogging him at the 2022 Christmas do and start retching for real.

“Sorry, can you quickly f**k off?” 

Channel those ‘communication skills’ you claimed to have on your CV. Explain diplomatically that right now is not good for you because you have a job. You want Kelly to feel listened to, so it would be great if we could reschedule this for another time when you’re not here.

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