Diary of a Grumpy Old Git (9 page)
Read Diary of a Grumpy Old Git Online
Authors: Tim Collins
UESDAY
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It was quite frosty this morning so I made my way in carefully to avoid breaking my hip and ending up on YouTube. I almost made it all the way to work, but I slipped on a frozen
puddle right outside the office window. Luckily, no one saw me, and it gave me a great idea for a game. I stood by the window with Jo and Jez and we had to predict who would slip over. You got five
points if they landed on their arses, ten if they fell on to their faces, and minus ten if they made it safely across.
It was a brilliant game, the best I’ve invented since ‘Trevor Chalkley Dodgeball’ back in school. Unfortunately, Jen spoilt our fun pouring a kettle of boiling water over the
icy patch. She said that an old lady could have fallen over and hurt herself. I didn’t think of that. That could have been worth twenty points.
I think the game helped me to bond with my new co-workers despite Jen’s party pooping. At lunch Jo even asked me what I thought of her Hello Kitty lunchbox. I said it was nice, but she
said it was hideous and that’s why she’d bought it. I think she’s one of those ironic people. Most of her purchases are ironic, as far as I can tell. If they made irony
tax-deductible she’d hardly have to pay anything.
Jo should be careful because one day she’ll forget whether she’s being ironic or not. I had a similar problem when I was young. I said so many sarcastic things that my voice got
stuck in sarcasm mode and wouldn’t go back to normal. It caused massive problems at my Uncle Roger’s funeral.
EDNESDAY
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I was sociable again today. Jo took her headphones off, so I asked what she’d been listening to. She mentioned lots of bands I’d never heard of, but I nodded in
approval as if I liked them too. She might have been making them up to take the piss out of an old fogey, but I don’t think so.
Jo asked me what music I liked, and I said Joy Division and The Smiths, as they were the coolest bands I could think of that I actually like. Jo nodded in approval and I sighed with relief.
Unfortunately, Jez overheard us and started wanging on about a busker he’d seen who was better than anyone with a record deal. Jo and I both whipped our headphones back on, terrified that
Jez would produce an acoustic guitar from under his desk and treat us to a rendition of ‘No Woman No Cry’.
I got the bus back this evening. We waited for fifteen minutes and then three came along at the same time. A woman wearing a vest and tracksuit bottoms who’d been waiting
with me said, ‘Always the same, isn’t it? You wait ages and then three come along at once. You’d think they’d do something about it.’
I think she was offering this as observational comedy, but it annoyed me much more than the late arrival of the buses.
‘Of course three buses always come along at once,’ I said. ‘If the first one is even slightly delayed, more and more passengers will accumulate at each stop and its progress
will be further slowed as it lets them on. Meanwhile, the buses behind will have fewer passengers to pick up and they’ll catch up. The only thing they could do about it would be to make the
first bus drive past without letting you on, which would make you even angrier.’
‘I know,’ said the woman. ‘Typical, isn’t it?’
HURSDAY
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Today I wrote a list of things that annoy me about Jen. It was all I could do to keep myself sane.
1. The way she mutters as she types so we’ll all realize she’s working hard.
2. The way she brown-noses Josh. He mentioned he was a Chelsea fan the other day and I saw her reading their Wikipedia page right afterwards. Every time he emerges from his
office to make a cup of coffee, she follows him into the kitchen to tell him about some amazing work she’s done.
3. The way she works too hard. In the cardboard box factory I used to work in, I was taken aside by one of the old duffers for a quiet word about ‘making the job
bad’. He said that eager newcomers always try and impress the foreman by grafting as hard as they can, but the problem is that everyone else looks bad by comparison. He told me to slow
down, take as many tea breaks as I could and always take a newspaper to the toilet. It’s advice I’ve followed ever since. Jen’s ‘making the job bad’ for all of us
now. As the resident old duffer, it’s my responsibility to have a word with her about it. But what if she grasses me to Josh?
4. Her abuse of the English language. The other day Jo invited her into a meeting, but she said she couldn’t go because she was ‘in the zone’. Now, if I was
in a very, very good mood I might just about be able to forgive a professional baseball player who used this phrase. But Jen was filling out a spreadsheet. There’s no way you can be
‘in the zone’ while using Excel.
5. The way she glances at her phone but doesn’t answer it, forcing me to relive my most harrowing cinematic experience over and over again.
Jo spotted me writing the list and asked me what I was doing. I couldn’t be bothered lying, so I showed it to her.
Jo glanced over her shoulder and said, ‘Thank God for that. I thought it was just me.’
It turns out everyone hates Jen. While I was bitching about her with Jo, Erika the office manager came over and joined in, as did a bloke from finance called John who I’ve never spoken to.
Jez even joined in after a while, which surprised me. The only person I’ve heard him speaking negatively about before was Robert Mugabe.
We had a great time slagging Jen off. I don’t know why firms spend so much money on away days. If you really want your team to bond, just wait until someone unpopular goes on holiday and
then clear everyone’s diaries for a session of slating them behind their back.
After about twenty minutes, Jen came back from her ‘powwow’ with Josh and asked what we were all laughing about, so I found a video of a sneezing kitten on YouTube and pretended we
were watching that. She looked at it and said, ‘That is so LOL.’ I think we got away with it.
RIDAY
8
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I had a blocked nose, an earache and a slight headache when I woke up this morning. I tried drinking a Lemsip, but it didn’t work, so I went back to bed.
It didn’t put me in a bad mood, though, as I love being ill. Not seriously ill, of course. But I’ve always enjoyed the sort of sickness that lets you stay in bed watching crap TV for
a couple of days. Unlike the planned holiday, the sick day comes with no expectations. All it takes is a particularly tasty lozenge, an especially satisfying nap or a surprisingly informative
Hitler documentary and your day is already better than you thought it would be.
The only bit I don’t like is phoning in sick. I heard myself putting on a fake-sounding voice as I left a message on Josh’s machine today. I was genuinely ill, but my hammy bunged-up
tone made it sound like I was lying. I can only hope that, one day, civilization advances enough for us to accept that our voices don’t really change much when we’re ill and we can all
speak normally when we call in sick.