Work Stories – And he’s only tiny … ?

Is it the look in your eyes?
Or is it this dancing juice?
Hey baby
I think I want to marry you?

So its 8:55am and I come bounding up the stairs at work,   headphones on,  iphone in random and Bruno Marrs blasting in my ears.

Thats the kinda cheery upbeat song that I love listening to in the morning .. or any time of day for that matter.

Anyways,  I bounce up the psuedo-corridor between the already fully occupied banks of desks either side of me .. most people arrive well before me .. some as early as 7am .. what’s that all about?

But I don’t work for the bank,   I’m through a consultancy company and working 9-5 .. what a way to make a livin’.

The way I see it is if you’re only paying me 9-5,   then thats the only hours I’m turning up .. and only fools or the badly manipulated work extra hours for the man giving up their precious and valuable time for no extra payment.

Here’s the deal .. time= money  .. you want my time .. you give me money.

Simple!

As I bounce up the office,  smile on my face,  headphones still blasting,   I’m sure a few people can hear the bass as I get the occasional look … and depending on the look I either smile back at another kindred soul  .. or  .. a closed mouth smile and hope it’s pissing you off that I arrive later than you and leave before you too .. sucker!

Just before I arrive at my desk I press pause on the headphones.  I get a nod from Robb the ex-paratrooper .. the kinda guy you just know would beat the shit out of you …  now retrained in management reporting .. theres a jump as big as mine from Shipbulding to IT and Banking.

Robb and I are kindred spirits,   neither of us really give a feck,   it’s an easy means to the most rewarding end and he sits with his headphones on all day listening to dance music .. I like him.

Robb asks .. so what are you listening to today? .. as he does most days.

Bruno Marrs .. I reply expecting a slagging for being such a girl.

( Not that there is anything wrong with being a girl! )

But Robb just nods his head in complicit agreement.

At this point Scott,   the senior manager,  grey,  late 50s,   bright and charming but very old school..  and the guy who signs my paychecks comes over and says …

Bruno Marrs … He does some good tunes .. but he’s only tiny.

Really Scott?

Does being tiny make you any less talented?

To be fair,   I’m sure Scott never meant any offense,  he’s not that kinda guy and one of the softest guys I know .. he’s just old-school … but it stuck out like catching a splinter on a bannister that makes you alch.

 

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