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You head back into the training room. For the next hour you are asked to perform role plays. Dutifully, you act out a fake situation that would never be resolved in real life as it is resolved in the role play. Every role play receives applause no matter how bad it was.
Everyone is told they’re doing great. Everyone is told that they are so lucky to work somewhere with such passionate, intelligent and dedicated people. Best of the best. As you’re told this you glance over to Janet. She is picking wax out of her ear with a ballpoint pen.
Zoe makes a special announcement. She has managed to pull some strings and you are about to receive training on something that is guaranteed to bring you up to the next level. You wonder what it is. A 50-year-old lesbian walks in and declares you’re about to do Laughter Yoga.
For the next hour you are all instructed to roll on the floor and laugh hysterically. You join in because it feels awkward to walk out. You’re worried of the consequences if you leave. The old lesbian instructs you all to bark like dogs. Apparently it helps your chakras.
Finally... finally it comes to an end. Before you can go home you are asked to fill in a feedback form about how useful the training was. You know that Zoe from HR will read every form. You give the training 5-stars and sign off your enthusiasm with 17 exclamation marks.
You don’t even bother to check your PC on the way out. You just want to go home. You just want this nightmare to end. But it won’t end. Tomorrow is Thursday and you’re only 35. There will be many many more Thursdays.
The alarm rings. Every single BEEP drilling it’s way into your skull. You reach out for the SNOOZE button. Just 10 more minutes, please. 10 more minutes wrapped in the blanket not having to think about work. You hear the PINGS of a dozen Whatsapp messages flooding in. It’s over.
You check the WhatsApp messages, bleary-eyed. You have 57 messages. It’s your team Whatsapp group. 8 of the messages are your 8 teammates saying they are feeling sick today. The other 49 messages are everybody wishing everyone else “Take care sweetie” or “Get well soon babe”.
You wonder why there is so much sickness amongst your team today. Perhaps food poisoning from yesterday’s pizza? But you’re fine... ... Then you remember. The big boss is visiting from HQ today. Another Whatsapp message. Someone is asking if you can help complete their report.
You arrive at the office. Jack from IT accosts you at the entrance. He is holding a Sponsorship Form. Will you donate money for his current cause? You ask what it is. Jack says it’s to raise funds to help trans Somalian kids undergo gender realignment surgery.
You don’t think it’s a good cause, but a group of colleagues stop by and all slap Jack on the back and say what a great cause it is. They look at you. They say they’re hoping for 100% participation. You donate $20. They tell you the minimum donation is $50. You donate $50.
You approach your PC, warily. Miraculously... it works. You open Outlook with no issues. Due to being mostly offline for the last 2 days you have 2,407 unread emails. Many have red exclamation marks in the subject title. Others are written in CAPITAL LETTERS.
You settle in to confront the email tsunami. A bell rings. Someone shouts “Can I have your attention please?” The big boss walks into the office surrounded by a gaggle of excited looking marketing girls in their twenties. You know this isn’t going to be good.
The boss explains that she feels the office energy isn’t high enough. Something needs to be done to help increase output. So she has a fun new initiative that will be “rolled out” immediately. Everyone must stand up for the rest of the day. No more sitting down.
She says she learnt this during her MBA at Wharton. The marketing girls scatter and drag everyone’s chairs away. You try to hold onto your chair but the marketing girl stares you down. “It’s better for your health anyway,” she says. “Sitting is the new smoking.”
You stand at your desk. Your hands cannot reach the keyboard so you hunch over to type. It hurts, but they told you that it’s healthy, so you don’t complain. You haven’t eaten alone all week. You promise yourself that today you will treat yourself to a nice burger... alone.
You have a meeting and are the first to arrive in the meeting room. Everyone else starts appearing ten minutes late. Even though ten minutes late, they all laugh and chat and say “Oops, forgot my coffee!” They leave to get coffee. They all looooooove their coffee!!!
The meeting starts 30 minutes later than scheduled. It’s a simple meeting. It shouldn’t take longer than 15 minutes. It’s simply to agree on the content of a new report. Yet there are 20 people in the meeting. Why? The organiser begins. She opens a PowerPoint. It has 70 slides
She reads through all 70 slides and it takes over an hour. She asks if there are any questions. A hand rises. “Should we really be using Helvetica font for this report?” says Jane from Finance. More hands rise. You never knew so many people had such strong opinions on fonts.
You don’t understand what is happening. You don’t understand the direction the meeting is taking. You don’t even understand why all these people are here - giving an opinion. Even Maria the Cleaner is here. She doesn’t even use a PC but thinks the report will be better in Arial.
Time passes. 2 camps have formed: the pro-Helvetica & the pro-Arial. Voices are raised. Jane from Finance is crying. She says she is PASSIONATE about Helvetica and that this is REALLY important to her. You look at the report. It’s all numbers in Excel. It won’t even use a font.
It is 3pm and the meeting finally ends after 5 hours. No conclusion has been reached except that a further 7 meetings have been arranged and a committee will be formed to discuss appropriate font usage. You’re on the committee. You never had the chance to eat your burger.
You grab a protein bar and a can of soda from the vending machine and return to your desk. Your chair is still gone so you have no choice but to stand while eating your snack. You throw the wrapper and empty can in the bin. Zoe from HR asks why aren’t you recycling your waste.
The next hour passes uneventfully. You do your best to clear your emails but it’s like chopping heads off a Hydra. Every time you clear one email, another four arise in its place. You gaze across at one of the twenty-something marketing girls and daydream about a different life.
An email from Jack in IT drops into your inbox like a wet shit. In order to support his charity cause, he is suggesting that all the men come to work on Friday dressed as women. He says that it’s a chance to show you care and “walk a mile in HER shoes” and will be a lot of fun.
The office is immediately excited. Everyone thinks it is a great idea. Someone suggests that the men should contribute a $10 donation to participate. Everyone thinks it is a great idea. Zoe from HR asks if you need to borrow a dress. Everyone thinks it is a great idea.
You try to put the Fun Friday Activity out of your mind. You try to focus even though all around you are engaging in mundane chatter. 1000 more emails to go. Nearly there. Your boss emails. She’d like to conduct your annual performance appraisal since she’s in town. Tomorrow.
She asks you to write down all your strengths, weaknesses, objectives and targets for the past year and for the year ahead. She wants your objectives to be SMART. Apparently that’s an abbreviation for something. You google it. You still don’t understand. It’s just buzzwords.
It’s all so meaningless. It’s all so tiresome. Now you will definitely be in the office till at least midnight. The train stops at 11. You keep a small blanket & pillow in your drawer for such occasions. Tonight you will sleep under your desk. You’ve done it before. Many times
At least you can rest at the weekend. Although you’ll probably have to work on Saturday to make up for all the time lost this week. And Sunday is Family Day. Then it will be Monday again. You gaze at the marketing girl again. You’re 35. You have wasted your life.
A group of colleagues walk past to leave and ask if you’re joining for Thursday drinks. You smile weakly and say you have work to do. “You shouldn’t work so hard.” says one. “Tomorrow’s Friday! TGIF!” Yes. Tomorrow’s Friday. So why does it still feel like Monday?
The rosy fingers of dawn extend westward reaching you from your impromptu grief-hole that you made under your desk. You want to wash and clean yourself as much as possible in the toilets before anyone enters. The broom of Maria the cleaner nudges you awake. She laughs at you.
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