Why? I mean really. Why?

The meeting opens with Heavy Drinker and Old Toad bleating on about fuck knows what and fuck knows why! Heavy Drinker is one of those Mid Forties women who somehow manage to get positions of responsibility and are holier than thou during the week, and drink like a fucking scarfie in the weekends. More than once I have witnessed her getting herself totally legless and throwing herself at ‘young male staff members’. But that’s sweet cos as long as you never mention it its all sweet. Old Toad is short and stout and lies about everything. She is one of those idiots who deliberately swears cos she thinks its cool, but it someone else swears, up on the high horse she goes. She is thick. A perfect example of how the public service continually promote people beyond their level of capability.

SO they open the meeting – using all the imperatives and hyperboles their 95 IQ’s can muster, we MUST do…. It is vitally important that… with great urgency… I start zoning out and my focus switches to the birds outside, as it does often in these situations. I go into bird whisperer mode and listen carefully and I am sure they are making fun of me being stuck in the beige sea, while they are outside and having fun.

Toad pulls my focus back to the front of the room. How can I take her seriously? She is mid fifties, and her pierced nose and tattoos are seriously sad. She is unintelligent, and her sun damaged skin sags off her flabby body like a rubber sack. I start getting irritated. I figure the meeting must be nearly over… I check the time. It has only been 5 minutes!! I don’t understand why I need to listen to this. All of this could have been given to us, bullet pointed on an A4.

My focus shifts again over to the other side of the room. Fat Sharon is spilling over more than her fair share of seats, and next to her Whaea Honky is chewing with her mouth wide open. Whaea Honky is one of those white neo liberals who think that cos they have been on a Marae that ‘they know what its like to be Maori”. I shit you not, she seriously seems to think she has a special brown gene – I hate wannabes more than just about everything. She shoves another great fistful of food into her great enormous mouth… that’s Waha don’t you know!!! Toady is still croaking on in the back ground and Gertrude is staring off into space in a way I recognise as unabashed boredom. Fat Sharon appears to be nodding at everything everyone says, I wonder if she is nodding cos she thinks she knows everything or if it’s the weight of her great gargantuan head on her behemoth shoulders causing the nodding motion. She really is very fat and unattractive. I wish something really humiliating would happen to her – like she would shit herself or something.

Oh no! Sycophant with a J has her hand up. Please no. We just don’t need this meeting to go down this road. Just as I start to panic The Leprechaun makes a good point. Apparantly it’s a good point. I wouldn’t know because I don’t understand a single word that comes out of his mouth.

I can feel my eyes rolling back in my head, and my barely sparking spirit is wailing inside me. If I could verbalise this sound it would be something like the weird moaning sound my hot water cylinder makes when I am trying to sleep at nigfht.

Sycophant with a J didn’t get to ask her question… but it doesn’t matter cos it would have been a stupid question anyway. I can guarantee that!

An aeroplane flies overhead. Its very loud, and sounds as if it is quite close. I imagine it crashing into this room. The thought doesn’t scare me.
I look at Man Boobs. I wonder how he ended up like that. He looks as if he may be expecting a child, and his hair appears to have never experienced shampoo. He looks like he would stink. I don’t know if he does as I choose to keep my distance.

The meeting drags on… the same words chewed up and recycled over and over and over and over and over … you get the message.

I notice Toady has a protruding old lady belly, I wonder if menopause did that – or if she always looked like that. She really is quite amphibious in her appearance, hunched, buggy eyed and stumpy. Ew.

How have I ended up in a profession so RICH with relentlessly boring and pointless shit! Some of these people are seriously so so so stupid – I assume we are all university educated, and this workplace is proof positive that university degree means less than nothing.

I fight the overwhelming urge to tip my chair all the way back over so I fall off backwards.

Someone makes a LAME ass joke about something so pathetically lame that I almost gag. And everyone laughs. Seriously – I want to scream at them ‘IT WASN’T FUNNY… FUCK YOU ALL’ and I wonder (not for the first time) if I am in The Truman Show – except its Me and not Truman – and if this is all some sick joke. Cos I promise you the joke wasn’t funny. It was lame.

Whaea Honky is looking pained. Perhaps she just realised she is white. Or ugly. Or both. She looks like the lost triplet from The Proclaimers. If you don’t know who that is do a goggle image search. I’m sure you will agree that its not pleasant.

Then Mr Mantis speaks. If I record this, I could sell it as a sleep cure for insomniacs. I know that’s a cliché, but they are called clichés cos they are true.

I reflect on my intense hunger. I wonder if I am actually hungry or just wanting food cos I am bored. Either way it doesn’t matter. So I look at Fat Sharon. I don’t want food after that. All the while I scrawl insanely in my book.

I wonder why Crazy Colleague isn’t here. Meh Who cares.