No birthday cake for you!

So, the other day at work it was someone’s birthday and we forgot or didn’t know and everyone looked at me and I said what? They had this half arsed theory that I should have known because Tinkerbell, who used to be in my place and lasted two seconds before scarpering after doing a crap job, used to have a list of birthdays and she would produce cakes for these occasions and I expect people oohed and ahhed in appreciation. The question was then asked of me, had I made up a birthday list with the names of the people – who range in age from 25 to 50 – for birthdays. No. Was I going to? No. Why? Because frankly I’ll forget, I have other stuff to do – let’s face it if I have time to stuff around with a birthday list I’d rather use that on the work internet for personal business - and basically you’re all grown ups. I did advise that I was happy for someone else to make a list and take Tinkerbell’s place. This apparently ruins the surprise. How I’m not sure but I did point out that forgetting and not getting a cake was also a surprise so maybe we continue with that tradition. On further questioning I discovered that no one really cared whose birthday it was as long as they got something to eat. Ah. Of course. Offices – hot beds of intrigue? No – just greedy people sitting on their arses and contemplating what to eat next. No surprise there.

Stereotypes…

Up until now, I’ve tried very hard not to stereotype people. I’ve been stereotyped. I still get stereotyped. Don’t be a single woman and not have a steady man in your life because that instantly stereotypes you by those who cannot think further than their front gate.



However – buts – like howevers – are always with us - there is this man at work who I have decided I cannot remain in the land of unsteretyoping about him any longer. He is early 30’s, an IT person who lives at home with his parents, spends huge volumes of money on a loud muscle car, electric toys which he plays with at the office, calls women ‘she’, her’ and ‘it’ and then wonders why he has no girlfriend. He eats everything in sight – other people’s lunches, uses their stuff and then breaks it and when a special morning tea is delivered he bemoans the fact that they should have ‘ordered more’ as he eats everything there without deferring to others. He is, in essence, a 6 year old spoilt boy whose parents should have kicked out of the house years ago. Management are ‘aware’ of the problem he presents in the office. Their theory? ‘We must all work together to make him a better person.’ My theory? ‘Oh piss off. I’m not paid enough for that.’



Stereotype him? Oh fuck yes.