The story of a day in the life of an unsuccessful office worker

8:50am Will I get caught?

Bing. Floor eighteen. 

Twenty minutes late – no excuses – my only hope is not to get caught. 

I exit the elevator, greet the receptionist and walk through the reception area. After a right turn, I walk past a couple of meeting rooms and head toward the main office door.   

What lies behind this closed door may determine my fate. If Bill is in his office, he will see me as I walk to my desk. The conversation will follow is too unbearable to contemplate. If not, I may not get caught and I need not stress. 

Too late for prayers at this stage. 

With a sick feeling in my stomach, I hold my security pass adjacent to the sensor. Click, click -  the security door unlocks. I push it open and walk through, entering possibly my last day in this office. 

My eyes scan frantically for any sign of Bill. In his office?…No….Talking to anyone?…No…In the staff kitchen?…No.  

Relax! The coast is clear. No need to stress. Chill out. 

I can take my time, put my bag down, get a coffee, go to the toilet, chat with a couple of people, email a few mates, check my share prices, play a couple of computer games and take it easy. No need to start any real work for another twenty minutes.  

What was I worried about?  

Being late matters only when you get caught.

8:48am What’s my excuse?

The elevator makes the slow, painful journey up to the eighteenth floor.  

I agonize about the unpleasant conversation I am about to have with Bill regarding my arrival time.  

Eight forty eight. Eighteen minutes late. ****! 

What’s today’s excuse? Think…Flat battery…no. Train cancellation…no, he knows I don’t catch the train….Caught up in traffic… that’s hardly original….ran over my neighbor’s dog….no, told him I did that yesterday.  

Bill and I often have nasty conversations about my arrival time. Bill says I am late for work every day. I disagree. Not every day. I think that’s a bit harsh.  

I mean, c’mon, I made it on time…. When did I arrive on time? ..Think… I know, Tuesday last week – oh hang on – no. I was five minutes late that day. 

Come to think of it, I have to soberly admit that Bill is right. I am late every day.  

Logically, it would be better to arrive on time. This would have a positive impact on my career prospects and earnings potential. 

But logic will not change an emotion. All forms of logic evaporate when it’s time to get out of bed. 

Accordingly, I need a fresh excuse each day. Successful people make good excuses. 

Problem is, my excuses have run out. ****!  

I’ll have to face the music without an excuse.

8:46am Stepping into the corporate world

The automatic sliding doors open in front of me.  

I step inside the thirty-four story office building. I’m stepping into a different world - out of the real world and into the corporate rat race.  

 Outside the corporate world (in the real world), a form of sanity exists. Inside, machines in human bodies and dark blue suits sit in cubicles and stare at screens all day long. 

Outside, you share friendship with your mates and their families. Inside, you kiss the butt of those above you and stomp on the heads of those beneath you.  

Outside, you talk about fun and interesting things. Inside, you talk about collaboration, cost efficiency, process improvement and project deadlines. 

Outside, you need not worry about politics of any form. Inside, playing effective office politics is critical for survival. 

Outside, people dare to dream. Inside, people focus on surviving the next restructure. 

Outside, you politely tell people you don’t like where to go. Inside, you tell your arrogant, prick bosses that you’ll get it done ASAP. 

Outside, you laugh at jokes that are funny. Inside, you laugh at jokes made by those above you. 

Outside, you sleep with your husband or wife. Inside, you sleep with your boss or whoever else is in the best position to advance your career.  

Gordon Ghecco once said that “Either you’re inside, or you’re outside.”  

True. But being outside, in the sane real world is much better than the inside world of concrete buildings, computer screens, office politics and project deadlines. 

The doors slide closed behind me and I am shut in.  

Another week in the corporate rat race.

8:34am The joy of finding a car park

In today’s corporate world, regular employees enjoy few privileges which are not available to senior management. 

In my company, the privilege of finding one’s own car park and paying for it is one exception. 

Regular staff may choose from any available car park in the city. Senior managers are forced to use one car park – the secure private facility located directly under our office building. 

Regular staff can shop around for the best price – usually about $15-$20 Australian dollars (USD $12-$15). Senior managers must accept a charge of $0, non-negotiable.  

Regular staff may choose their position within the car park from any of the three available spaces. Top level or back of the second top level? Facing a concrete wall or the headlights of another vehicle? They choose. 

Top level managers must accept the space allocated to them directly in front of the entrance to the office. 

This is one privilege I would gladly forgo. 

I enter Wilson Car Park in a state of desperation, after passing three ‘Lot full’ signs at other car parks. 

Level one…forget it. Try the second level. 

Level two…Great! There’s a spot – second floor – not bad! 

Hold on, there’s a sign… “No parking. All vehicles will be towed away. Fine $500.” Perhaps not. 

Level three…Great. A space just behind this van… Oh damn! There’s a tiny little Honda – it was obscured by the van. Bugger! 

Level four…No, no, no…Here’s one! The driver’s just backing out now. Good timing…wait…he’s going back in again. He was just straightening up. ****! 

I finally locate a park at the back of the top level. Upon my return, I am likely to find another vehicle in my way. When they reach this level, some drivers just give up in pure desperation and double-park, preventing the driver of the other vehicle from backing out. 

Accordingly, this is not a great space to park. But I’m already eleven minutes late so this will have to do. 

Late employees can’t be choosers.

8:06am The pile up at the end of the freeway

Anger and frustration simmer inside me as I reach the end of the freeway.  

Now comes the fun part - the bank up.  

A bottleneck occurs at the end of the freeway, resulting in a massive pile up of cars. Essentially, this involves a thirty minute period of sitting in the car in the middle of the road,  putting up with the bad taste of music of the driver next to me and creeping forward about two meters once every forty five seconds.  

This morning is no different. After the last 15 minutes of cutting and weaving, I finally reach the point where I have to slow down and come to a complete stop about 350m from the end of the freeway.  

Twenty seconds later, the lane on my right starts moving. Six cars pass and I see a small opportunity to move into that lane. Quickly, I take my opportunity and change lanes, prompting an angry horn blast from a driver two lanes over who had the same idea.  

Immediately, my new lane comes to a standstill and the lane I just changed from starts to move. Damn. I have to change back. Let’s see, now… no, no, no, oh here’s a chance. Quick, if I move now…oh bugger! The bloke behind me has got in first. Bugger! 

All I can do is sit hopelessly and watch as my lane remains at a standstill and car after car passes by in the lane I was in previously. Another small chance…Quick glance over the shoulder…clear…go! Yes, made it. Great … as if on cue, the lane I move into comes to an immediate standstill. The lane I changed out of starts moving again.  

Maybe it’s just easier to stay in one lane! 

Fuming mad, I pound the steering wheel with my fists, and utter some words which cannot be repeated. I look at my watch – twelve past eight – and then utter more words which cannot be repeated.  

But all I can do is sit and wait… and wait…and wait…

7:35am Early morning traffic, the usual fun and games

Seven thirty-five, my watch ominously says.  

Oh golly! Seven thirty five! I’m dead. One dead man!  

Office hours begin at eight thirty. Timing is crucial. If I leave by seven twenty, I beat the traffic, cruise down the freeway, get a dream run and arrive comfortably in the office at about ten past eight. I even have time to tuck my shirt in and fix my tie before my boss arrives. 

However, like clockwork, the traffic starts to build up on the freeway at around seven forty-five. If I don’t leave before seven thirty, like this morning and indeed, like most mornings, I get caught in the bank up.  

That’s just plain bad news. After the bank up starts, the trip down the freeway can be divided into two parts – the rally car racing for the majority of the way (see below) and the bank up at the end (see next post).  

This morning is no different. The freeway resembles more of a dodgem car ring than a road, except that the cars are traveling at 100 kilometers an hour. I approach it like a rally car driver on a race track. I weave in and out of traffic, take any opportunities to overtake or cut in front of other vehicles and try to block others from cutting in.   

It’s like navigating a space shuttle through an asteroid field. Some days I get through this by concentrating really hard. Other days, I just close my eyes and use the force. Today, I choose the latter approach. 

I once believed that driver courtesy was a virtue, that a little human kindness went a long way.  

But experience has taught me better. It’s a mug’s game out there. It’s every man for himself. If you’re too kind, people take advantage of you and cut in on your lane. It’s war on the freeway and you gotta be prepared for battle.  

Nice guys don’t win.

7:30am Come on baby, don’t let me down now!

The engine turns for three seconds and then stops dead. OK, let’s give her a little power and try again. I put my foot down lightly on the accelerator. 

The engine turns over and then “Broom broom, broom .. sputter sputter sputter” .. dead. Oh dear. Try again. More power this time. 

The engine turns over. “Broom, broom broom broom brooooooom broooooooooom” “Yes!” I pound the steering wheel. “Come on, come on, come on come on!” “..sputter sputter sputter ..” “Come on baby, don’t let me down now!” “.. sputter, sputter .. dead.”  One more try. 

The engine turns over “Broom, broom, broom, brooooooom ,brom, broom brooooooom,” Yes, finally. I put her in reverse and start back out of the driveway, knocking over the letterbox yet again.   

I back out into the street, attempt to change out of reverse and into first gear, and then ‘sputter, sputter … dead.’ She stalls on me in the middle of the street. 

The engine turns over and this time, THIS TIME, she finally gets going for good. Naturally, the heater doesn’t work and it’s freezing cold. 

My day can only get better from here. Things are looking up.

 

C’mon baby

7:29am Think positive - it’s Monday!

Think positive. Things will be different on this wonderful, freezing cold Monday morning. 

The car will start first time. All traffic lights will be green. There will be no delays due to road works, broken down vehicles or accidents. The traffic will be lighter than usual and I will get a nice smooth run.  

Because it’s Monday, other drivers will be in a courteous, considerate, relaxed and calm state of mind. They will kindly allow me ample space whenever I need to change lanes. They will not exert any form of aggression whatsoever, be it with  horn, finger or fist.      

I will arrive at work on time, pumped and ready for the new week. My bosses and co-workers will be in a great mood and will greet each other with big smiles on their faces. Full of optimism, their passion for teamwork, co-operation and a positive work environment will stand out in every way. The entire office will be abuzz with the dynamic and vibrant atmosphere of employees who have been liberated from the burden of having to spend an entire two days away from the place they love so dearly – their office or cubicle. 

With a positive thought and a smile, I turn the key of my 30 year old Volkswagon.

7:26am No time for breakfast

“I’m off mum,” I yell as I go to walk out the door. “Bye.” 

“Not so fast, Stewart James Robertson,” says my mother. “You have not had breakfast yet, have you? 

“That’s OK, I’m running late. I’ll get something from the coffee shop.” 

“Oh no you will not! You will not have coffee and doughnuts. You need to start looking after yourself. You need to lose some weight.”  

Great. I’m a twenty five, I live with my parents, I’m running late for work and good old mum is trying to look after me. It’s sweet of her, but right now I could do without it. Besides, what’s wrong with coffee and doughnuts for breakfast at ten thirty? 

“I bought these new breakfast bars,” she continues. “You can eat them on the way when you are running late.”  

Wonderful. Health food. Looks disgusting. Bet it tastes that way, too!  

No time to argue. I’ll take them, bin them at work and have coffee and doughnuts as normal. Problem solved.  

“Thanks mum.” I stuff them in my briefcase and now head for the door.  

“Just a minute, Stewart dear.” Those three dreaded words mean one thing – I’m not getting out the door yet.  

She hurries over to me and fiddles around with my clothes to ‘straighten me up.’ I stand still, waiting for the pain of this procedure to be over.  

“Now, just let me have a look at you.” She steps back and conducts a two second examination of my personal presentation. “Yep. That’s fine now. Oh, you look so handsome. I’m so proud of you!” (whatever) 

Finally – departure authorization granted.

7:23am My favorite underwear

Got em. My favorite pair of blue and white boxer shorts - the ones with the characters from Lord of the Rings.  

I always save my favorites for Monday. They make Monday somewhat bearable.  

Ergonomists say that physical comfort at the workstation is essential for maximum performance. Accordingly, I believe my boxers are a crucial element in making effective use of my work day. 

I have to sit in an uncomfortable chair all day. My boxers provide that tight, silky feel around the groin and buttocks area, offering essential comfort and support for the area most affected by contact with the chair. Therefore, they play a significant role in optimizing my immediate physical environment.

 

Shirt .. jacket .. pants - I shove these uncomfortable clothes on and tie my noose around my neck.  Keys … wallet … phone … used unclean handkerchief  …got em – ready. 

Next stage - getting past mum in the kitchen. 

« Previous PageNext Page »