overlap

It's been a funny last year or so workwise, with various instances of stupidity. I've saved quite a bit of money by often not leaving the office in my lunch hour due to the apparently ever changeable "security" routine that doesn't need any sort of pass or identification one day and then has a red-faced buffoon shouting his way up the stairs insisting that nobody could possibly have got in the building without showing a pass for months. My tolerance for that sort of nonsense is limited, especially when it requires a mind reader to work out what is supposed to be going on, so the plus side is that my cash spending has been limited, even if my internet spending has gone some way to making up for that. My tolerance for my time being wasted by the world's most inept "training specialist" is not much greater, especially when this requires two full hours that could have been spent doing something more productive being lost to listening to something that even David Brent would have considered unnecessarily peppered with utterly meaningless business-ese. Naturally I did the only sensible thing possible, and after holding my tongue in the interests of not causing trouble, increased my collection of handbags by exactly one. Oddly I usually enjoy my work, with the proviso that it is only work, but indulging this sort of pointless craziness really doesn't bring out the best in me, and especially so when I'm still a little tired from the changing of the clocks and the disruption that brings. In addition to the fuzzy, barely recognisable postage stamp sized photo on the pass that the operators of the building insisted they needed even if they couldn't decide if they ever wanted to look at it or not, it has now been decreed that the company must issue photo-passes to everyone. Fortunately I'm in a position, both technologically and otherwise, to produce a picture that I'm happy with rather than the production line one-off mugshot. So when this came up, the least I could do was a quick dive for the Ronnie James Dior, and when the photo-pass eventually turns up, all of this is what I'm wearing in it.

Labels: jobsworth, make up, photos