The feeling of freedom: your butt in the breeze

(Found this scribbling among my notes. Decided to clean it up.)

I’m having one of those days.

It’s not one thing. There isn’t one big ol’ stinker that I can point to and say “it’s YOUR fault”; though I have a line-manager who may be credited with a fair percentage.

No, it’s lots of things together. I’m feeling rundown, getting annoyed with my job and everyone in it, and worried about the inevitable wilting of my boyish good looks. Even Norbert The Sarcastic Loofah seems to regard me with more disappointment than usual.

Ever feel that what you do is all so trivial? It’s pointless! No-one cares! Even the highest I could possibly achieve in this job would be by any other standard laughable. It is banal, mundane. It just doesn’t matter. It is merit dwarfed by a walk in the park, or flying a kite, or just ten minutes with my children at bedtime. Even if they insist on that damn Dora the Explorer book again.

The drudgery is claustrophobic. The next time I’m called into a meeting, I fear I shall snap. No, I won’t fear it. I’ll embrace it!

I fantasize about it all too often. When things get tough for mere mortals, they compose their resignation letters in their head; I am way beyond this. I have transcended dreams of telling the MD what I think of him. Even the prospect of photocopying my pert buttocks and faxing their likeness to head office for filing is but a distant memory. My intellect is now above such things. My heading is fixed upon the distant horizon – my sights set on lands that are simple and beautiful.

For on the day of my awakening, when the assembled drones and I reach the point of “Any Other Business?” I shall spring into action. I will jump to my feet, draw flowers and butterflies on the flipchart, stand astride the desk like a king on his ramparts and bellow: “It’s all so trivial! All of it!”.

Utilising the power of visual symbolism through the medium of declothement, I shall metaphorically shed the trappings of shallow, modern civilisation. I shall demonstrate the subversion of conformity, laying bare the essence of human purpose: the pursuit of human expression!

Minute *THIS* action point, you fuckers.

I shall frolic freely in the business park’s ornamental garden. The fountain shall be my wellspring; the sprinkler-system my bidet. A bench (dedicated to George in HR – sadly missed) shall rest my weary head.

People! Office dwellers of the world! Join me! Throw-off the shackles of your Post-It note oppression! Rid yourselves of your Blackberry, your Googlemail accounts and your Bluetooth headset! See them for the blinkers they are! This technology that lets you communicate with the far corners of the globe is keeping you from appreciating the beauty that’s right in front of you! They deprive you of the simple, carefree life … like defecating into a bush and wiping yourself with a dockleaf.

For me, enough is enough. Sign-out from Facebook! Let your last Twitter message be clarion call: a statement to the world that you have become a Higher Being!

Log-out from the Rat Race … for we were never rats to begin with.

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  1. James Blast says:

    My dear Mr. Bloke, I… uh… dunno…

    Where to start?

    Ocht Hell!
    If I knew how I’d start my own blog. Suffice to say – bin there mate, t-shirt, badge (button if you’re Amerikan), ate the soup of disappointment, felt the stab in’t back, watched dreams of higher thinking evaporate, got ill… GOT OUT!

    Sadly it affected my job (designer – I lost my creative spark) and cost me my health.
    Luckily I had a decent pension plan and at 53 after 30 years – man and boy [why isn't it boy and man?], inhumane resources finally decided I should be pasteurised. Well summat like that.

    What I’m trying to say is: be true to yourself, work hard and care. It’ll mean feck all in the end but at least you’ll know YOU did the right thing.

    Stay unFocused.

    James

  2. Oddbloke says:

    As it happens, I’m out of games at the moment … and fighting to get back in. Unfortunately Christmas got in the way, so a lot of interviews have been postponed until the new year (when the HR departments of the nation have all sobered-up).

    I wrote this one whilst having a particularly bad day. Thankfully writing is becoming therapeutic for me, and so after a few lines I began to imagine I was performing a rousing speech to thousands of disgruntled office workers. Though in my head they all looked like orcs.

    Anyway … think silly rather than serious. More like Fry and Laurie’s “Urine and Vomit” speech (it’ll be on Youtube if you haven’t seen it) than Martin Luther King.

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