Had a fun week last week. It was my half year review to discuss how i’m doing and wether or not I want to bust a gut in trying to get a better mark when the financial reward is pretty much the same amount I have made so far by selling shit to idiots on eBay since I moved house. And so using this model of career advancement I deem my efforts to work harder than I should and impress someone with tiny button eyes and a dubious past with a really bland taste in jumpers is probably not worth it. There’s bound to be a ton of shit I can still sell going into the next financial year. My work mate told me I get too angry with the lunatics running my particular asylum and I should learn to put this anger with my work into a box and after my weekly 37 hours I should store this box behind the second freezer in the garage, which isn’t such a bad idea.
I’ve got a new boss, he’s a good guy and has plenty of experience but I wonder if he’s pliable enough for my button eyed senior manager, can he be moulded into some opinionless automaton like the previous managers I’ve had in my career, and now Ive been her and awfully long time, over 2 decades a new episode has begun where I play the people who I complained about in the offie when I first started; the lifers, no chance of parole, no chance of moving elsewhere, institutionalised. Thank God I take an interest in writing when I can be bothered, which is recently lacking for whatever reason. I think I need to box the bad things up, the things I have no control over and scoff at them from afar. Which is what I plan to do as the nights draw in and the weather throws a dark sheet over all of our moods.
The best thing that happened after complaining to my boss of the same senior management bods moving sideways to take on other projects after they’ve fucked up the ones they were tackling before hoping to bathe in the splendour of a success, instead the project fades into obscurity, nobody talks about it and soon its all forgotten and they get to move on. But “we know what you’re doing” and you’re doing it badly, really badly. So after that meeting, I went to pick my wife up for a lunchtime snack while we waited for my daughter to take and finish her driving test, she passed and there were tears of joy, from her and a brief look into the future as I planned not having to drive her anywhere again. Truly a milestone in all of our lives, I can not believe she’s that age.
On Saturday in the 12 till 5pm slot, I attended a German beer festival with 7 other lunatics in what was billed as the biggest marquee in Europe; I’ve been in bigger i’m sure or maybe I was just really small then and i’m massive now, but I doubt it. I got myself a souvenir glass which had a two pint capacity which cost £5 and then £12 to fill with some sort of Germanic Pilsner, at those prices it was communally decided that we should probably cut our losses and throw our money else where, ending up around last orders in some wretched pub with sticky carpets, I’m sure the sticky carpet pub confiscated my 2 pint glass, but I can’t be sure. Ive realised now as I sit on my bed that this caper is probably a younger mans game, I stayed up till 3am, and felt awful on Sunday, and only marginally better today. I stayed off the spirits or wine, apart from a Jaegermeister with everyone very early on in the proceedings, and I’m confident to say that it probably wasn’t that which has caused the fear to manifest itself on this wet and windy night, thank God I don’t have to walk the dog tonight.
Oh, on the plus side another CEO resigned today! That’s the second one in about 3 years, the third in 5 I think, it’s hard to think back that far when you have to factor in the plague years first, I’m starting to wonder how long we’ve been in this slump for.

you need saving from the box behind the freezer..
perhaps a preamble to Pennys?
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I myself have a hard time boxing up work and keeping it separate from the rest of my life. I was off from work for nine days but didn’t go anywhere, but I still thought about work. Didn’t help that they kept calling me.
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I know, I’ve got a job which I’ve done for 23 years which I quite enjoy; is that a career? Does a career entail climbing up the corporate ladder to greatness? Not sure, I’m at the top of my grade now, have been for years with an occasional 1% rise here and a non consolidated fee hundred pounds there. Not even enough to constitute a thanks, rather a begrudging acceptance that we are still here. I’m going to try and box it, but I care too much about the lunatics in charge of the asylum. My mate just tells me to let it go. Meh, I don’t know!
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No payment is ever adequate for this
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Maybe that’s how life is? Maybe we should care more about our mental well being rather than our salary. But to be expected to pull out all the stops for nada… I’m not so sure
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I’m sure it ain’t worth it.
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