The Worst Thing about Offices……

The people.

I have adapted this post from my Instagram account and it’s about someone I used to work with – let’s call him Robert.

I chose this image because this dog would have been a better colleague than this guy and probably more productive.

Way back when – like over a decade ago I worked with a bloke who worked in R&D in a lab out the back of the building. Not only was the lab an absolute diabolical shit hole because he literally never tidied up after himself but he was also next level useless. Day to day he could usually be found in front of his PC playing solitaire or standing by the printer trying to make eye contact with someone to strike up a conversation. Often this was me as I was located closest to the printer. His usual tactic was to do a long breath in followed by a very vocal exhale that somehow communicated ‘I have something entirely trivial to tell you that I think will make me sound cool but will actually further your opinion that I am in fact a twat.’

He once spoke to me for 10 minutes about how American clothes are so much better than clothes in the UK and how much he loves America. He totally missed that I essentially insulted him when I replied that of course he would enjoy American clothes more as they come up bigger – such was his commitment to the hot air spouting from his mouth. He also didn’t have a passport and had never left the UK so he knew about as much about shopping in America as I knew about quantum physics. Nothing.

Another time he spent way too much time telling me about how jealous his neighbours were in his block of flats when him and his wife had a BBQ behind their car!!! I imagine they had looks of pity on their faces as they oggled the weird neighbours charring some bangers behind a Pergeot 206 rather than envy but you see what you want to see right! Incidentally he also called his car ‘The Zombie’ which was another 10 minutes of my life wasted hearing that origin story.

He once went on a trip with our boss to the factory up north – and being a Southerner by ‘up north’ I actually mean the midlands so it was a day excursion. They set off in the morning and because the moron couldn’t drive (side note I have no respect for people that can’t drive, it’s harsh but I’m sorry it’s true.) our boss picked him up. Rob the knob get’s in the car along with a bag of food that he has prepared for the long journey, snacks etc. They do what they need to do and on the way home when diverting to drop Rob home they get stuck in traffic that means they are at a standstill for almost 2 hours. At this point Robbo starts tucking into his swag bag of snacks; and does he offer his driver any? Nope. He actually refuses to share a single morsel of food with the person who is literally chauffeuring him, the person who will miss his dinner because he is stuck in traffic chauffeuring this absolute bellend that couldn’t be arsed to learn to drive when he turned 17 like the rest of us. The rude bastard then proceeds to get out the car at the point of drop off, doesn’t say thank you and LEAVES the rubbish of his sugary carby feast IN THE FOOTWELL! The audacity! Luckily my boss wasn’t about to let him get away with it and he called him back to the car and made him remove the rubbish from his car before speeding off and the next time they had to make a trip to the factory you better believe he drove himself and made that twat get a train. I have heard this story from my ex-bosses mouth many times since and I still get annoying thinking about it.

He was also one of those annoying people and I feel like every office has one – that lives such a sheltered life that should they do something normal like going to the pub on a friday night they feel the need to tell everyone about it like they just got back from a 4-day drug fest at Creamfields. The conversation usually starts with:

‘God i’m tired’ looks round to see if someone is going to ask why

‘went out at the weekend’ looks round again to see if anyone is going to enquire more

‘got pissed didn’t i’

Before proceeding to give us every single detail of his saturday night including what his wife was wearing to the brand of condom they used for their post-pub missionary sex which he fell asleep during because he was ‘so pissed.’ It then gives him carte blanch to yawn provocatively every time he comes in to the use the printer just so he can re-iterate what a fucking rambunctious weekend it was because he is ‘so tired.’

Going back to the messiness that also reminds me that this bloke ate the same thing every single day for breakfast and lunch and he would use the same plate for both meals and for the entire week. So he would come in early doors (because he had to get the bus that only came once an hour) and have his breakfast (2 slices of toast, butter, and lemon curd.) He would then leave the toast crumby plate by the toaster ready for his lunch (4 slices of toast, butter, and lemon curd). After lunch he would leave the plate in the same place ready for the next days breakfast and on a friday he would wash it up. Sometimes someone else would wash it up because it was fucking rank but after a while we all just left it there hoping that rats came out at night and shat on it. I also remember once our boss asking if he could ‘borrow some butter’ as he had run out and the prick actually said no and came and took his butter out of the fridge and kept it in the lab lest it be stolen by hungry butter munchers. He justified this by saying that his wife would know if he ran out sooner and be annoyed that they had to buy more so I can only assume that they lived on a very tight budget which would also explain why he seemed to survive of bread and refined sugary spreads although he did once tell me that lemon curd was one of your 5 a day which it most definitely isn’t.

He wasn’t all bad though; when he left they ended up employing 2 people due to the companies expansion and I remember hearing our boss saying how lazy and useless they both were and that at least Rob the Knob could do his job AND appear to play Solitaire all day when those two muppets managed to look like they were hard at work but yet achieved nothing. I suppose if you are able to play solitaire and do a decent day’s work that does deserve some credit where credit is due.