The Consummate Professional
So, work has now become a thing. You may not believe this but at work I am the consummate professional...what, how dare you, I'll have you know I...I...wear a shirt?...OK, OK, I'm good at pretending.
So I've started answering questions and joining meetings and generally doing the whole 'David Brent' malarky. Thing is...another one of those existential dilemma's...I've just had nastily complicated surgery performed upon my person. I've been cut open, interfered with and put back together. I've suffered vast indignities perpetrated upon my person and I am only sane because of the combination of morphine, codeine, paracetamol and a soupcon of laxative... really?..you think that sane might be pushing it, you could have a point.
However, look, the whole point is I've suffered unknown horrors bravely, selflessly without regard to my own safety. I am an absolute fucking hero...what do you mean all I've done is lie about in bed necking barbiturates and pouring cold urine over myself...alright, alright, I've had a fairly routine operation, a moderate amount of pain and nice rest in a good bed whilst other people fuss over me.
But...and this is a Kardashian sized but... I have had an operation and I was signed off for six weeks, I needn't have gone back to work but because I am such an all round fucking nice guy I have done so. Just to be clear, I went back to work because I am an amazing person not because I was bored absolutely shitless.
So, back to the existential dilemma, I've gone back to work before I should but the powers that be at work will not realise what a marvellous person I am as it now looks as if it was all not that serious. I could make them realise this by casually sending a bunch of, frankly, disturbing pictures of my ankle, the subtext being 'bet you wouldn't be back in work after they had done this to you' . But if I do this I won't look like the all round nice guy, I'll look like a slightly needy weirdo.
What it comes down to is that I've started back at work because I want everyone to think 'Charlie, wow, he's such a nice guy, always goes above and beyond', however, they are not going to think that because now I've made it look like it was all pretty routine...it was, just don't mention it ;-) I'm only saying it was routine 'cos that is self deprecating and makes me look good...it wasn't have you seen the pictures...it was...help, I've got into a recursive loop...
Look, what it comes down to is this, I want as many people as possible to massage my ego until my head is roughly the size of a hot air balloon. It's the only reason for writing this drivel.
By the way, my arse is killing me, all this lying around in bed has it's definite downsides.
So I've started answering questions and joining meetings and generally doing the whole 'David Brent' malarky. Thing is...another one of those existential dilemma's...I've just had nastily complicated surgery performed upon my person. I've been cut open, interfered with and put back together. I've suffered vast indignities perpetrated upon my person and I am only sane because of the combination of morphine, codeine, paracetamol and a soupcon of laxative... really?..you think that sane might be pushing it, you could have a point.
However, look, the whole point is I've suffered unknown horrors bravely, selflessly without regard to my own safety. I am an absolute fucking hero...what do you mean all I've done is lie about in bed necking barbiturates and pouring cold urine over myself...alright, alright, I've had a fairly routine operation, a moderate amount of pain and nice rest in a good bed whilst other people fuss over me.
But...and this is a Kardashian sized but... I have had an operation and I was signed off for six weeks, I needn't have gone back to work but because I am such an all round fucking nice guy I have done so. Just to be clear, I went back to work because I am an amazing person not because I was bored absolutely shitless.
So, back to the existential dilemma, I've gone back to work before I should but the powers that be at work will not realise what a marvellous person I am as it now looks as if it was all not that serious. I could make them realise this by casually sending a bunch of, frankly, disturbing pictures of my ankle, the subtext being 'bet you wouldn't be back in work after they had done this to you' . But if I do this I won't look like the all round nice guy, I'll look like a slightly needy weirdo.
What it comes down to is that I've started back at work because I want everyone to think 'Charlie, wow, he's such a nice guy, always goes above and beyond', however, they are not going to think that because now I've made it look like it was all pretty routine...it was, just don't mention it ;-) I'm only saying it was routine 'cos that is self deprecating and makes me look good...it wasn't have you seen the pictures...it was...help, I've got into a recursive loop...
Look, what it comes down to is this, I want as many people as possible to massage my ego until my head is roughly the size of a hot air balloon. It's the only reason for writing this drivel.
By the way, my arse is killing me, all this lying around in bed has it's definite downsides.
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