A BAD DAY AT THE OFFICE

I had what could only be described as “a bad day at the office” the other day. It wasn’t the sort of bad day that could be described in any way as being “catastrophic” so it didn’t end with the banking system collapsing, billions being wiped off the stock market and the country going bankrupt, all because I had pressed the wrong button or anything like that (so I doubt that I’ll be getting a bonus), it was just one of those days where I turned up feeling overtired and in a bit of a bad mood and I failed almost utterly to hide it.

I sometimes feel that it really is only me who has days like that incidentally, but I’m kind of realising that it’s only me who is quite so bad at hiding it that’s all. It seems as if the rest of the world can battle on with cheery resilience and a bit of Dunkirk spirit despite their personal traumas whilst I seem to have become very thin-skinned and bristle at the slightest of slights and, whilst I have to accept that I can be a “difficult” person to deal with (and not really a pussycat at all...), it’s not really a problem that anyone else should have to be dealing with...

Perhaps it was too many years of working alone…? Or maybe the trauma of finding that door kicked in cut me deeper than I thought…? Well, whatever it is, there’s probably no excuse for it really and I should attempt to get through my days feeling far more “chipper” than I seem to…

Only…

Surely you’re allowed to feel ratty every once in a while, aren’t you? Surely it’s perfectly acceptable to say so when you’re not feeling at quite the very top of your game and you are feeling that things are spiralling out of your control or a general sense of vagueness is making you feel like you’re swamped and that progress is not being made…? Presumably it’s better to flag it up sooner rather than later so that any problems can be nipped in the bud rather than escalating to financial meltdown, the banking system collapsing and billions being wiped off the stock market and the country going bankrupt…? (That massive bonus is heading my way… I can almost taste it…)

Okay, before someone in “high office” stumbles across this by accident and joins the dozen or so people who might ever read this, panics and thinks that the financial system might be on the brink of collapse and sells all of their shares (and hello to you, by the way… email me to find out where to send the bonus cheques to…), nothing I do each day has any bearings (or Barings) whatsoever on the financial services sector and your money is therefore still in the “safe hands” of those you already consider wise enough to handle it. Those very same people whom you will, no doubt, be rewarding with yachts and speedboats and the kinds of cars that cost more than my house, presumably out of whatever money you make from betting my pathetic salary each month…

The same salary I get whilst being “Mr Grumpy-pants” whilst at work, by the way. (It all goes around and everything’s connected, so bear with me…)

Granted I should try and be more gracious in my dealings with those I meet in the course of my day and, instead of merely being grumpy, try and take some kind of an interest in what they are telling me instead of cultivating the “couldn’t give a monkey’s” air I seem to be developing a reputation for. I shouldn’t be allowing any external pressures to “get” to me, and it’s not fair when my own sense of not really wanting to “belong” to anything seeps out and diminishes the joy to be found by those that do.

Ah well, perhaps I can “charm” my way back into everyone’s good books fairly soon, although the notion of me having much in the way of charm does seem rather unlikely. Still, I was in a “bad mood” (did I mention that…?), and most of my irritations came from trying to get my head around the frustrations of not feeling as if I had been given full instructions to do whatever it is I do in the way it was required to be done (financial meltdowns notwithstanding) whilst simultaneously trying to juggle the many and various telephone calls which were incoming from my mother as she waited all day to be finally allowed to go home. Half a dozen or more calls telling me nothing new and demanding I made plans for scenarios that were unlikely to occur was kind of running me ragged emotionally, so I kind of think that I might be allowed some latitude.

I’m sorry, by the way (especially to any of you who regularly suffer or tolerate these pages), if these recent witterings are all getting rather “samey” and predictable and are turning into something resembling the “not-so-secret diaries of an office drone” but these are, unfortunately, the only thoughts which are popping into my head at the moment as I juggle work and home life whilst dealing with another “family hospitalisation” saga.

“Anyway, what was that so-called “bad” day all about, then?” I hear you ask. You did ask, didn’t you? Well, to be honest, nothing in particular. Just a tough day and being in a bad mood and eventually transferring an ageing relative back home and spontaneously going out to eat afterwards to cheer myself up...

I realise that “Peyton Place” it ain’t, but what’s a boy to do…?