When I asked at the start of this article have you ever been mystery shopped, there was only one possible answer you could have given – “I don’t know”.
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Benign to Five | Serious For a Change | Uncategorized
The story of Eve: thank goodness for warm generosity in the cold world of work
I’ve been writing this blog for six and a half years. Over that time, I hope it’s become clear that…
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Yes, I procrastinated about procrastination. And I left it for such an exotically long period of time that my untouched work moved beyond the bad stages like rigamortis, bloat and decay and got as far as fossilisation and, finally, as you can now see, gem formation.
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It’s been exactly a year since Donald Trump took office as the most powerful man in the world. Here’s what…
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He traipsed through this “lost illusions boulevard” in his trilby and his double-breasted suit, smiling knowingly, perhaps ruefully. There was no pretence or charade.
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I’m not afraid to admit it: I loved being surveilled at work. Without Big Brother having watched my every professional movement from one of his infinite telescreens, I would have frittered away my career to date on inefficient activity and unorthodox thoughts.
Read More…the restaurant manager, a man I once found in the men’s toilets vehemently accusing a whole defrosted turkey of cheating at Texas hold ‘em. (He made the turkey talk back by opening and closing its beak using a pair of tweezers, doing a C-grade impression of Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men…
Read MoreMy antagonist was a preposterous cliche who hid his ulterior motives with the same discretion as a trenchcoated 1980s flasher might have hidden his jibbly bits.
Read MoreRule 2: Don’t dance. Dancing was invented in 1971 by Dr Hubert van de Waggelen as a cruel and unethical social experiment and was never meant to leave his dungeon/laboratory in Utrecht. It incomprehensibly caught on, spread across the world and was retro-fitted with a centuries-old (and far happier) history. By dancing you are (now knowingly) legitimising the perverted experiments of a wicked, wicked man.
Read MoreThe items that we now categorise as weasel words, wank language and corporate buzzwords weren’t always the indefensible, indecipherable brain-slop of desk-shackled keyboard tappers. Almost every single one began as a word or term that didn’t make you want to chainsaw it alive and throw its corpse into an abandoned quarry.
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