WELL, I’ve gone and got a proper job. Sort of. But no one warned me working in an office would be such a minefield. Here’s what I’m learning:
It’s a bit like the Army stroke prison
You’re not actually in a cell, but you spend at least seven hours a day sitting in the same spot. You’re allowed to walk around, but only for short periods. Looking back, I’m glad I never got captured by the Taliban. Seems a ballache.
There’s bizarre sexual behaviour
Certain co-workers are clearly attracted to others. But instead of just going at it like the lads used to in Khandahar province, they hover pathetically around desks trying to impress each other with shit jokes and leftover donuts, which I doubt would have won Meghan’s heart.
Banter’s not really up to military standard
Office workers claim to love banter. Being skilled in ‘bantz’ from my army days, I attempted to bond with a co-worker by mocking him with a term that is apparently racially offensive. Now I have to go on a diversity course. It’s possible Piers Morgan had a point.
You have to be there even if you’ve got bugger all to do
People quite often seem not to be working, just snacking or f**king around on Facebook. This strikes me as a massive waste of time, and I’ve sat through the Royal Variety Performance. Trying to persuade Meg to start a global campaign to set office workers free at 3pm.
Makes sense for everyone in offices to have their own toilet, because listening to someone windily excreting two feet away is unpleasant and puts you right off your office lunch. Which apparently is always a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich with horrible mayonnaise, like the food served when you officially open a leisure centre in Oxford.
My understanding is: you’re invited to a discussion of something you’ve not been briefed about, various twats drone on to try and impress people, then your boss does exactly what they’d planned in the first place. And they say the Royal Family is pointless.