The Haught guide to “moving forward”

 

Picture 6Moved to tears

While working in an office job, I once lost my bearings and blundered into the wrong meeting room.

The abhorrence I observed taking place inside filled me with a liquid disgust (not unlike the stuff that gets wrung out of the sponge in that famous anti-smoking ad).

It was a “moving forward” orgy: men and women, old and young, executives and dogsbodies – all going at it hammer and tongs – “moving forward” like it was going out of fashion. Which, it turns out, it wasn’t.… Read the rest

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Benign to Five on “When I grow up…”

Image courtesy of 'Gwernol'

Image courtesy of ‘Gwernol’

What do you reckon Alan Jones wanted to be when he was growing up? What about Kyle Sandilands? Or Pat Raw? These aren’t rhetorical questions, and I’m going to attempt to answer them in order:

Pantomime horse.

Condom vending machine maintenance person.

Chicken sexer.

It’s fun to look back at your preferred career at the age of 5. Fun, and also absolutely devastating. Our parents have a lot to answer for:

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The Haught guide to “journeys”

I don’t ask much from you, dear reader, so when I tell you today that I have a task for you, I’d appreciate it if you take it seriously, complete it assiduously and then report back in detail on your findings.

Here’s the task. After reading this article, keep in mind the word “journey” and take note of every time someone uses it in the non-going-for-a-long-walk-holding-a-crooked-piece-of-wood sense.

My hypothesis is that you’ll hear it around three thousand times every four hours.

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Resuming normal transmission

Haught hasn’t been running at full capacity recently.

I first knew there was a problem when my daily visitor stats dropped radically. Where once I was getting 3.45 billion visits a day, now I was getting a measly 1.98 billion.

I then started getting emails – up to 9000 a day – asking me whether I’d stopped Haughting. That was ironic, because the whole problem, apparently came from the fact that people weren’t receiving emails from me.

Turns out anyone who’s subscribed to Haught by email (in the “STAY HAUGHTED’ section on the right hand side of the blog) almost certainly hasn’t received a notification email in more than a month.

I have it on good authority that the problem has been fixed, or “solutioned” as some fuckwits say these days.

So this is a little post to say I’m still alive, I’m still riotously funny and here’s what you might have missed:

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The Haught guide to work farewells

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While in Barcelona, I once hid in a lavatory to avoid dancing.

The Contiki Tour I was on took us to a Flamenco bar and it became clear that, after dinner, each member of the tour would have to get up and dance with a proper Spanish Flamenco master (or mistress). The members of the group with natural rhythm fared OK, but then a bloke who went by the name of The Dazzler got up and made a complete fool of himself, approaching his partner as if she was covered head to toe in bedsores and dancing like he was covered head to toe in the sort of sunburn I thought only existed in the 1980s.

I watched for 90 seconds, realised that despite looking like a malfunctioning robot in a 1960s science fiction show – one whose flailing arms are made from corrugated tubing – he was a far more accomplished dancer than me, and fled to the toilets.

What’s that got to do with work goodbyes?

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Benign to Five on obliterating wank language

“It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words.”

At least that’s what the character Syme from George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four reckons. Syme is a contributor to the Party’s dictionary of Newspeak, the language that will eventually replace standard English, and admits to the protagonist, Winston Smith, that he relishes destroying words.

Of course, Orwell meant Syme’s words to be taken as outrageous sacrilege by his readers. I, however, was recently inspired by them.

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Benign to Five on knowing when to fold ’em

Fishslice1

Fishslice1” by Original uploader was Jcvamp at en.wikipedia (Original text : FreeDigitalPhotos.net) Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.


Is there a more frustrating end to a conversation than “get over it?” Possibly “whatever” or a massive expulsion of wind, but it’s a close-run thing. “Get over it” is a favourite of fuckwits the English-speaking world over, a way of losing an argument without technically losing an argument.

If you’ve ever been told to “build a bridge”, “move on” or “harden up”, this column is dedicated to you.

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Benign to Five on dealing with difficult people

Difficult people are a dime a dozen, aren’t they? That’s less than one cent each, and still you’re probably paying too much.

People who use words like “douche” and “awesome” are difficult. People who speak loudly on trams are difficult. People who own Chapel Street bars are difficult. Shiny faced, purveyors of anger with persecution complexes are difficult. Wealthy people who say things like “If only I had that much money” are difficult. A majority of people are difficult.

So when the opportunity arose to attend a training course in learning how to deal with them, I screamed “You beauty!” in a stranger’s face and threw my coffee in the air. It probably landed on someone – I don’t really know.

Anyway, after I’d done the course, I wrote a column about it:

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The Haught guide to “learnings”

Image: Ben Tyers, 2014