clurb.net » Work

Oh, well done.

Clurb — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 20:57:45 +0000

My email account at work was set to expire today. I had to get someone to go and hassle the IT staff to explain that being on maternity leave isn’t the same as having quit.

Apparently IT have sent me an email with a reference number which I’m to quote to them if my account isn’t re-activated in the next week.

An email. To my work account. Which has expired.

Fabulous.

Really?

Clurb — Fri, 08 May 2009 13:29:27 +0000

Silly girl: “Hi, I need [some random shit] copied onto acetates. Can you do that for me?”

Me: “Yeah, sure. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be back with them.”

Silly girl: ”Oh, ok; I need you to hurry. My presentation is in, like, 10 minutes.”

Seriously? You really think that telling someone to hurry up is going to make them do anything other than slow. The. Fuck. Down?

Wow.

My first emergency

Clurb — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 08:32:44 +0000

I finish work at 4.45. Which generally means that I’m out of the door by 4.40 at the latest.

Not on Friday.

At 4.35 a girl came racing down to the service desk asking for a first aider because there was a lad upstairs having a fit. *Sigh* And as all eyes turned to me I had to bite my tongue to stop myself saying “Does he realise what time it is?” Instead I asked what floor he was on.

Top floor. Of course.

And, of course, by the time I got up there and said ‘Yes, he’s having a fit’ and had sent someone to phone for an ambulance he’d pretty much finished. And right at the second that he started to come round in rushed a proper trained first aider to leap to the lad’s side and talk patronisingly to him until the paramedics arrived.

Not that that meant I could go. I had to stay there, standing around gimpily, until they’d wheeled him out so that I could fill in the terribly dramatic accident report form, the first question on which is ‘Has anyone died?’

I managed to escape at about 5pm, at any rate. And the lad was perfectly fine.

Sort of…

Clurb — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 15:16:12 +0000

There’s an exceedingly irritating woman at work who uses the phrase ‘Sort of’ constantly. She just had a sort of phone conversation where she was trying to sort of direct someone to another sort of department.

“There’s a sort of woman there…yeah, she sort of deals with this sort of thing…she’s sort of called Gemma.”

Argh! I know I have rather a lot of difficulty in getting my words out, but for God’s sake! Think about the words before they leave your mouth, it might help with that little problem you have of being so desperately annoying.

Dear rancid sweaty bike man

Clurb — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 17:43:37 +0000

I heartily commend you for being fit and active when you’re evidently a very old man. And I very much appreciate that commuting on a bike is rather hard work. I also understand that I’ve helped you in the past and that you’ve found my advice useful.

But please stop calling by just to say hi. You stink. And you sit too close to me and make me feel sweaty by implication. And your snug and sporty lycra bike attire is seriously inappropriate.

It’s not that I think you’re a bad person, you understand. I just think you could show a bit more consideration and – I dunno – bring a change of clothes with you.

Your friend,

That girl in the library.