On office-based guerilla warfare.
So, apparently my quite public dressing down on Tuesday meant I passed some sort of test.
There's a war underneath us, and it's going on all the time.
Well, sort of. As with any fun game, it ebbs and flows. Apparently my appearence and subsequent initiation has seen a rise in the battle.
Basically, Edith is the office manager, and a sour old kill-joy, micromanaging and breathing down your neck. So, the obvious solution to this is a fight.
It's done quite sneakily. You may hear nothing for weeks, according to Gary (who's taken me under his wing), then suddenly the sugar is replaced with salt, and it all goes down-hill from there. Because Edith only leaves for an hour at lunchtime, the war is kept underground. People will send letterbombs through the internal mailing system, or rickroll someone else. Then when Edith leaves, hell breaks loose. Paper darts, balls, Nerf guns, glitter, little fuzzy balls, anything that a) will not create a mess that cannot be cleaned quickly and b) will not actually hurt someone. And then someone will call 'Cave' (it's quite an up-market place, I'm one of the only people who went to grammar school rather than public school...) and it will all disappear. It means that someone has to ninja out (usually the pretty PA Timmy) with a list of food to buy for people who battled through the unofficial lunch hour, but it's totally worth it. It's great stress relief. Gary says it'll die down next week, but since Edith likes to have 'synergy' meetings once a month, I expect I'll see another battlefield before long.
I'd forgotten how much I liked working with nerds. They're so much more interesting than normal people.
There's a war underneath us, and it's going on all the time.
Well, sort of. As with any fun game, it ebbs and flows. Apparently my appearence and subsequent initiation has seen a rise in the battle.
Basically, Edith is the office manager, and a sour old kill-joy, micromanaging and breathing down your neck. So, the obvious solution to this is a fight.
It's done quite sneakily. You may hear nothing for weeks, according to Gary (who's taken me under his wing), then suddenly the sugar is replaced with salt, and it all goes down-hill from there. Because Edith only leaves for an hour at lunchtime, the war is kept underground. People will send letterbombs through the internal mailing system, or rickroll someone else. Then when Edith leaves, hell breaks loose. Paper darts, balls, Nerf guns, glitter, little fuzzy balls, anything that a) will not create a mess that cannot be cleaned quickly and b) will not actually hurt someone. And then someone will call 'Cave' (it's quite an up-market place, I'm one of the only people who went to grammar school rather than public school...) and it will all disappear. It means that someone has to ninja out (usually the pretty PA Timmy) with a list of food to buy for people who battled through the unofficial lunch hour, but it's totally worth it. It's great stress relief. Gary says it'll die down next week, but since Edith likes to have 'synergy' meetings once a month, I expect I'll see another battlefield before long.
I'd forgotten how much I liked working with nerds. They're so much more interesting than normal people.