One day about two years ago, I arrived at the office with a pressing deadline hanging over my head, only to find that over the weekend, I had been swept out of the scriptwriters’ room. Everything on my desk had been put away into a drawer and there – on MY desk – stood a brand-new computer. For a new employee.
My boss was supposed to ring me and let me know that I was now officially a mobile worker – but she forgot!
I was now supposed to share the edge of a desk with someone, anyone – and hopefully, even get to sit on a proper office chair. After my feelings of hurt died down, I actually enjoyed the freedom. I could work wherever and whenever I liked: I had received the official blessings of the power-that-are at work!
After all, I have a very comfy office at home, with a lapdog and lashings of spicy tea thrown in!
Things worked out fine and I started making guest appearances at the office once a week. However, my Mondays at the office have recently been blighted by the lack of comfortable seating. As more and more new workers have been hired, the number of available desks and chairs has diminished.
Until there were no free desks and just one office chair.
This is when the problems began: the backaches, the aching wrist and mouse arm. You see, this lone chair had a secret life. Oh yes – it would party all weekend and then present itself to me on Mondays – hungover and drooping; unwilling to co-operate. It refused to move up and down hence causing the ache in my mouse arm. And it would insist on squishing me into a V-shape, so that I would limp from the office every Monday holding my aching back.
And every Monday, I would beg, implore, and write e-mails to the boss asking her please please please to go to IKEA and buy me a proper office chair. To no avail.
Anyway, I turned up at the office yesterday, and after playing musical tables for a while, finally managed to get settled onto a friend’s table. Chair was definitely trying to do my back in permanently.
But my seat of learning proved to be more formidable.
It started wobbling and tilting and then – finally – broke in two with a great BAZOOM!
I showed the boss the two parts, and she has promised to go out and buy another chair. (But I’m not holding my breath!)
Several colleagues came into the room and asked me if I had been karate chopping the chair.
“Yes! With my karate butt!” came my quick reply.
So there you have it: proof, if you need it, that …
…. not only can I kick butt.
But my butt can kick butt.