Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Get the hell out of my face!!!

Dear colleagues,

It has unfortunately come to my attention that some of you have a nasty habit of creeping up on me while I'm working.

I wouldn't mind if your advances were directly related to my area of work, or even vaguely GAA-themed.

However, when you flip flop up to my desk chewing gum in my ear and ask me (without even so much as a "please" I might add) to tell Antigone when she's off the phone that you have gone for tea, don't expect a smile and a cheery "Sure"!

You'll be lucky to get a curt nod. Like you did today. Try it tomorrow, and the result might be different. I might just chase you through the section throwing staplers, forms and other random office paraphernalia in your general direction. Because I'm trying to concentrate on what I'm doing. Your spearmint-tinged halitosis has just sent me back to square one.

This is not confined to my immediate colleagues, but extends to those of you "visiting" from other sections also. I don't know most of you from Adam, so why pick me to pass on a message?

Just fuck off.

Or I'll bite.


CC: Facilities Management

Where's the fucking perspex screen for around my desk?

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