Ode to my soon-to-be EX-colleagues.

(because there's just FIVE working days to go, and I've completely given up trying to upload my holiday pics onto this blog and shall seriously consider putting them on facebook instead.)

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TERESA.

I'd like to start this post on a pleasant note, and so I must begin with Teresa. An absolutely lovely lady, Teresa is every office worker's dream. She single-handedly maintains an archive of files that goes way back to when font wasn't an option, yet manages to get everything done well before you need it (including scanning and faxing receipts for deposits made to lodgings in various underdeveloped countries where I just happen to be on vacation).

Teresa is also a very uniquely staunch Buddhist who goes on pilgrimages to holy sites in northern India at least once every year, where she donates generously to local communities and spends much time in deep meditation. The most memorable lessons from her are likely that death is inevitable and there's no point worrying if the building starts to sway because you either live, or you die. So just stay happy and keep that smile on your face. And that all the pharmacies very quickly run out N95 face masks so you must constantly check if they've brought in new stock and if they have you must buy lots of it because otherwise you will catch the swine flu.

But most importantly, Theresa is my break from the insipidiocies of everyone else on the thirty-third floor. Her brilliant Buddhist barbs directed at the slow-moving slow-thinking despatch lady, cheerful Theravedic arguments with Other People Who Use Our Printers As If They Are Their Own, and distinctly non-spiritual non sequiturs about the surprising fashion-forwardness of the boring old director's wife or those really big heels on the short director's shoes (that's why he wears his pants so long); are often the highlight of a dreary office day.

Farewell Teresa, you will be missed. Over the next week I shall be forwarding to you over a year's worth of e-mails to be filed and about four boxes of papers to be shredded; so with any luck I shall be re-born as a paper clip.

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NOSTRILS.

It is unfortunate that the dearth of good colleagues makes for such an early turn for the worse in this post.

The division I work in is a small one, comprising four Grunts (that includes me), a Deputy Director and a Director. That's right folks, this small six-man outfit monitors the sea transport policies of an entire country. Fortunately we have a six-HUNDRED strong organisation that we direct to execute said policies. In theory, that is: our relationship is much like that of a neutered indoor pekingese (that's us) and a virile fuck-off-sized dingo (that's them).

THE POINT IS, working in such a small team on such a huge portfolio means that constant interaction with at least one colleague is as inevitable as death (see "Teresa", above). Unfortunately that means staring into the world's most repulsive pair of flared nostrils, each and every work day for the past two years. Except when they are on vacation, which doesn't happen very often, and anyway the image of those quivering black funnels are seared in my mind. I may need therapy.

Nostrils is the only Grunt who was there when I joined the division, and who will remain there when I leave. He was the first colleague I met upon arriving on the thirty-third floor. I had thought him rather odd in appearance and manner, and then dreadfully boring as the day progressed. By the end of the week, I had complained to all my former colleagues that Nostrils had to be quite possibly the most mind-numbing person on the planet. Something karmic happened the following weekend that forced me to adopt a more positive attitude, and to give my new colleague a second chance.

And that's one reason why would never be Buddhist.

Reality isn't like facebook where a mere click of the mouse allows you to "un-friend" a person so you will no longer have to deal with that person entering your personal space. Make the mistake of being friendly with a colleague just once, and you're forced to be a friend forever (or at least until you no longer work together). It is my belief that this mistake had the unfortunate result of exposing me to the terrifying disorder that I've named "Complete Lack of Balls".

So you've probably already read enough of the other posts about my colleagues to have an idea of how whingey and annoying Nostrils can be. The following conversation, which took place recently, should help render that image more vividly:


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I am having a lovely lunch-time natter with Teresa, about her most recent pilgrimage to northern India, about how all the donations somehow seemed to make little difference to the lives of the local children (she suspects that a lot of it just being sat on by the temple monks), about how beautiful and happy the children are despite their dire poverty, and about how each one of these trips makes her feel more tranquil and satisfied. Nostrils goose marches over - knee problems? ill-fitting pants? cactus up his ass? - carrying a painfully designer cup of tea (white with i-have-no-balls-berry).

Nostrils: (simpering) Sorreee, it's not that I have no work to do, I just need a little di-VER-sion. What are you guys TALK-ing about?

Teresa: I was just telling [Earrci] about how some of the monks in northern idea are so good at meditation that they are able to levitate.

Nostrils: Oh Theresa, can you teach me how to meditate? (stares coyly into his tea)

Teresa: Why? You want to levitate too? (laughs) What's wrong? Too many worries?

Nostrils: I have a lot of thoughts on my mind (fade)... cannot clear my mind of all these thoughts.

Teresa: Do you believe in God? I have a friends who ask me to teach them to meditate, but I tell them, how can I teach you to meditate if you do not believe in God? How can you clear your mind of all thoughts if you cannot think of God? God is Pure, and when you meditate you must focus on something pure. If you do not believe in God you cannot meditate. If you are stupid you also cannot meditate.

Nostrils: (pouts to his tea)

Me: Why don't you pick up a hobby?

Teresa: He has a hobby, he exercises every morning.

Nostrils: (self-deprecating) That's not a HOB-by, that's just EX-ercise.

Me: (Wondering if this is an opportune moment to highlight the importance of having a shower after exercise. With hot water and soap. To remove all traces of dirt and sweat. Because dude, you are RIPE.) ... So, really, why not find a hobby? If you have one you can focus all your thoughts on that instead.

Nostrils: (mumble mumble) ... no time...

Me: What do you do on weekends?

Nostrils: Well the first thing I do when I wake up is to switch on the laptop to check my e-mail. It's a very bad habit actually.

Me: So don't switch it on, or better, don't bring your laptop home. Unless you really have to. It's not like there's stuff to rush every weekend, right?

Nostrils: No, but, well... (looks searchingly into teacup for answer)

Teresa: Hey, I heard that Yvonne is coming over to work here from July. Is it a secondment to replace you?

Me: No, there's someone else replacing me. I think Yvonne is leaving [that organisation] entirely in order to work here.

Nostrils: SHE'S LEAVING [THE ORGANISATION]??? "LEAVING" LEAVING? I WAS TOLD IT WAS ON SECONDMENT TERMS!

Me: (WHOA, never do that again dude. If your face does not do Life well, then it sure as hell won't do Surprise well. And don't flare those damn funnel things anymore! What's in the back of your head sure ain't any of my business! Sheesh... your face is truly fucked dude. Do you get collagen injections to your lips or something? 'Cause they look... fleshy. And maybe you might wanna tell the salonist to go easy on the brows, the perfectly manicured arches only draw attention to your beady little eyes. Beady beady beady...) ... Er, that's what I heard, but I guess I may be wrong... What's the matter even if she was "leaving" leaving anyway?

Nostrils: Nothing, it's just that what I heard was that it would be on secondment terms...

Me: (You LOSER. You coddle gossip like it's some sort of golden goose when really it means fuck-all to everyone else. If your grapevine is the only thing you can feel important about, then I strongly recommend suicide.) Ah look, lunch time is over. I have to go finish that report now.

Teresa: (laughing) Yes, I have to finish these files for the bosses.

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Yes. It will be a great pleasure never to have to work with Nostrils again.

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PSORIASIS AND THE OTHERS.

I've run out of steam now, plus at the end of the day my feelings towards the remaining colleagues are, on average, neutral. Psoriasis continues to repulse me with his physical form and gross ineptitude; but hey, if I had to deal with that many bodily problems I would probably also be completely incapable of getting anything done right. And I really have no issues with the Family Man anymore, now that things are winding down for me so it's no big deal to cover for him. As for the Deputy Director, it's hard to say anything about her since she's been away for the past three months. And as for the Director... well, nobody gets to choose her boss hey.

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So long, y'all. To Teresa, I wish godspeed to nirvana. To Nostrils, I wish a pair of balls. To Psoriasis, I wish the doctors finally find a cure to your various ailments real soon, and that you use it. To Family Man, I wish your wife and kids well, and please, for the sake of the environment, stop at two. To Deputy Director, I wish I could say something meaningful but I just can't since I hardly know you. To Director, thanks for inadvertently letting me take leave off-record!

Ciao!



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