What if being present in the office is all you have to offer? A shite employee asks

EXPERTS are disparaging the need to be physically in the office you work in as mere ‘presenteeism’. But what if that’s the only bit you’re good at? 

I, Nathan Muir, have been a marketing manager since 2017. I will remain so indefinitely because I’m neither good enough to promote nor bad enough to demote. And I attribute that entirely to being in the office.

Have no illusions: that’s what I have to offer. I’m here. You can see me. Therefore I must be doing work because you’d notice if I was watching Netflix. And because of this, I earn in the mid-five figures.

By being present, I make the office bustle. I justify the money spent on the building, on chairs, on printers. I walk around purposefully while nodding at others. I do all the good shit.

How can a divisional head feel they matter if they can’t look out on people tapping diligently away? When they cannot stop a conversation by walking past? When nobody sees them leave early in their Audi Q7, are they really superior?

That’s the service I provide. Not just ‘work’, as those who prefer their home comforts put it. Not just answering emails and analysing data and proof-checking creative from the sofa. I do a little of that but not much, because what I do is turn up.

I don’t take sick days. I hated lockdown. Any absence, however brief, risks exposing how smoothly the place runs without me. I need to be there, standing around, holding papers and nodding sagely.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend a meeting I’ve scheduled for the purpose of holding a meeting. You’re only calling in? Shameful.

F**k: first flush of friend's toilet wasn’t enough

PANIC is rising as you will be forced to flush a toilet in someone else’s home for a second time, it has emerged.

The initial flush having failed to whisk away the entirety of your solid waste, it is looking increasingly likely that you will have to flush your friend’s toilet again and they will hear it.

Your inner monologue said: “It’s finally happened: the moment we greatly feared yet never prepared for. We may have clogged it. There may be an overflow.

“What are our options? A second flush is the obvious choice, but risks public ridicule. But it can’t be left looking like that. No friendship could survive knowing that your body produces these shapes, those odours.

“Has the cistern filled? Are we ready for another flush? Has my longer-than-usual absence been noted? Why don’t they teach you how to deal with emergencies like this in school?”

Friend and toilet owner Martin Bishop said: “Don’t worry, I’ve paused the film that our assembled friendship group were all watching until you get back. We’re just sitting here, patiently waiting in dead silence with no audible distractions.

“Actually, I should have warned you the pipes in this house are pretty old. Still work fine but make an awful banging noise whenever water is pumped through. It’s very audible and unmistakable.

“Come to think of it, you’ve been gone a while. I think we’ll head to the bathroom door en masse to ask if you need any help. That’ll make everything better.”