BeckLog

Sheep!

2009-11-21T03:36:00.000-08:00

We have sheep in the field near us. Originally there were two sheep. They seemed to get on quite well, although occasionally the skinnier one (it's all relative) would show the fluffier one who was boss by kicking and headbutting him out of the way so that Mr Skinny could munch on the patch of grass Mr Fluff was standing on. Mr Fluff would eventually, resigned, shuffle along to allow Mr Skinny through.

This went on for a few months and then there must have been a change of ownership of the field. Suddenly Skinny and Fluffy disappeared, redundant, to be replaced by a whole lotta sheep. It was soon evident that this farmer preferred the ladies, as there was one male sheep to a field of about 15 female ones. These 15 females certainly earn their keep. There they stand in the field, munching. Munching all day. Looking really, really bored. Occasionally a noise from the road will make them look up for a minute or two, stock still. Then they shrug their furry shoulders and go back to munching. Apart from that they just wait to be mounted. You can tell cos their backs change colour after the male sheep has attended to them. He's a bit of a pest to be honest. Mostly they're not that interested, although it's clear that sometimes they just give in with a "Oh fine, get it over with," sort of attitude. Then they know they'll be left alone for a bit whilst it's someone else's turn.

Effectively, obviously, the field is a little breeding programme, designed presumably to make money by creating more sheep out of cheap little sheep who can't stand up for themselves and don't know any better. The male sheep struts around the field, impressed with the size of his empire and his harem, the power he has over them.

But really he's just a big sheep in a little field.

Going to the Dentist

2008-11-29T07:58:00.000-08:00

I went to the dentist recently. I don't particularly like going, but at least they have gossip magazines there to take one's mind off what might happen.

This time, though, was brilliant. I went in, answered some friendly questions about where I work and whether I was eligible for free dentistry, and then opened up. The dentist did the counting thing that they do and then began to judge my mouth. I felt like I was on Strictly Come Dancing. "Oh yes, beautiful mouth," he said, "Great oral hygiene and perfect soft tissue, lovely." I pictured a row of four judges dressed as dentists, all holding up sugar-free lollipops with '10' embossed on them.

When he told me I didn't need anything done and looked at me expectantly I didn't really know what to say, so mumbled, "Er, thanks? Um. Good genes. Ha ha."

I did, however, skip all the way home. I felt disproportionately proud. Like I'd just been given a First in oral hygiene and mouth beauty.

ASDA petrol station

2008-11-28T08:30:00.000-08:00

Is ASDA an acronym? Does it stand for anything? Or was it just being 'shouty' before its time? Answers on a postcard...

I went to the petrol station at our local ASDA on the way home the other day. I never put petrol in the car, for many reasons but mostly because I'm a big scaredy-cat when it comes to flammable liquid. Plus I'm always worried that I haven't put the nozzle thing in the car properly and it won't click off and I'll get covered with stinky flammable stuff. Which did actually happen once. I also hate it because there's always someone waiting behind me and, just like when I'm packing my stuff in a supermarket, I hate the pressure of knowing someone is standing there, waiting for me to finish what I'm doing so they can go through the checkout and get on with their lives.

Anyway, the point to this is that I went ON MY OWN to the ASDA petrol station. (See? Caps are SHOUTY.) This never happens, but I thought 'no, I can't rely on everyone else all the time, I'll just be really cool and put some fuel in the car on the way home so I can relax and know I don't need to worry about running out any time soon.' What I didn't know was that the ASDA petrol station is different to normal petrol stations. Rather than having pay-at-little-kiosk or pay-at-pump options, ASDA where we live has one option - a drive-thru petrol station.

I didn't realise until I pulled up to my pump, clocked that the way out was guarded by two big kiosks like the ones at Dartford crossing and read the notice on the pump which said 'pay at kiosk on way out - ALL FUEL MUST BE PAID FOR' (like I was going to try and pay for just a bit of it). By that time someone had already pulled up behind me and it was too late to back out. So, I got out, took the nozzle thingy off the pump station, opened the fuel cap door, unscrewed the fuel cap, waited for the pump thing to start and happily began filling my car.

That's when I began to get nervous. I was at the pump nearest the kiosk, so there was one behind me. The guy behind me I would swear put the minimum amount of fuel (2 litres, I was reliably informed by another notice) in his beamer, finished up and sat in his car, engine idling (illegally, according to a third sign) behind me. By this time I was beginning to sweat, but thought 'I'm an adult, I'll keep calm, I'll take my time and chill'. But it was too late, I was panicked. I finished fuelling, and tried to screw the fuel cap back on. The wrong way. Once I'd realised it went on clockwise I was fine. Then I grabbed hold of the fuel cap door and tried to close it before extracting the ignition key needed to open it. Pressing the buttons on the key, I locked all the doors. In a panic I shut the fuel cap door and tried to yank the key out. Thus setting the alarm. Lights flashing to let the world know my car was alarmed, it was now obvious to the guy behind me that I was out my depth.

I got back in the car, slammed the door, caught my hair in the door and then remembered I had no idea what number pump I was at. I didn't want to open my door again so stretched my neck until I could just about see it was number 8.

Trying to regain my composure I kangaroo-jumped to the kiosk and, not realising there was a microphone between me and the guy I needed to pay, yelled through the perspex wall "NUMBER EIGHT PLEASE!" He looked a bit alarmed but payment went well.

The beamer behind me was still waiting so I sped off fairly happy that my transaction had gone smoothly and he hadn't had to wait too long. So happily in fact, that I drove though the lorry fuelling station instead of staying on the road. But I don't think anyone noticed. Surely they were too busy doing their own thing.

Nigella Lawson

2007-09-26T11:28:00.001-07:00

I was watching Nigella Express the other day on fast forward (hurrah for Sky+ when the phone rings - can't miss a second of my televisual entertainment) and realised that at a certain speed of fast forward all you can see is food, Nigella's happy smile as she presents the start or finish of a dish and then lots of shots of her torso. Specifically, her chest. So on fast forward it was FOOD, GRIN, CHEST, GRIN, CHEST, FOOD, FOOD, CHEST, GRIN etc. I hadn't really appreciated the subliminal value that this style of editing may add, but I like it.

Moving on....

2007-06-14T02:53:00.000-07:00

I've been too busy listening to the chattering of the web to update recently, though a fair bit has happened since Feb. I no longer work in the same office and therefore don't have the same exposure to the cra-zee folk I was colleagued with and I have to admit that I kinda miss them. Whilst I did sometimes feel like banging my head on the desk (and indeed, did do so, several times) they are people with good hearts and an admirable concern for hygiene and I can't diss anyone for that.

In other, proper, news - I was reading that about the rising concern of the powers that be over childhood obesity. It seems crazy to me that there's been such a reversal of situations in sections of society within a relatively short period of time. To clarify: for many hundreds of years the 'haves' had a tendency towards obesity and gout, in the 1950s post-war children were taught to eat everything on their plates (which in the 21st century have allegedly become bigger and less nutritious, a far cry from the sci-fi 'meal in a pill' fiction of the 70s), a habit that's hard to break and now we see the 'haves' starving themselves. True, clothes hang better on a skinnier frame and no-one can deny that high cheekbones stand out on film, but being skinny is as much about status as about looks: 'we can afford to be skinny'.

Crazy old modern times.

Funny-shaped fruit

2007-02-19T02:08:00.000-08:00

The older I get, the more my humour seems to be mutating into seaside postcard-ness. I haven't quite got to the really puerile stage, where I find writing 'willy' on the Annual Reports funny, but I can't be far off.

My recent giggles have been over fruit. As I've mentioned, we get a big fruit basket from a local greengrocer's daily (except Fridays and they usually provide their own end-of-week humour anyway) and I'm one of the people responsible for distributing it. Just recently we've had gigantic fruit delivered, really, the Mother of All Fruit in size. This was amusing and prompted lots of GM jokes and big banana demonstrations and stuff, but wasn't as funny as when we started receiving knobbly pears.

If you've ever watched the Two Ronnies you'll know the possibilities with knobbly pears are endless. As indeed I demonstrated until I realised no-one was laughing anymore and I slunk off back to my desk, slightly ashamed, to do some proper work (I do proper work sometimes).

(Still think it was funny, though.)

Robin Hood

2006-12-21T06:30:00.000-08:00

I was watching Robin Hood on Saturday night when it occurred to me that the Sheriff/Sir Guy of Gisborne/Outlaw political triangle is not dissimilar to that which occurs naturally in the average office.

Sir Guy in particular struck me as typically middle-management, stuck between his line manager the Sheriff and his love of Marian representing the simple folk (in his case of Locksley but in my office the people like me who do the post, though I'm not sure my middle-management love me). Even down to not knowing his job title (I had to look him up on the Beeb's website, but couldn't even find their org. chart). Serf-Handling Consultant, perhaps? But there he is, invariably doing the management's dirty work whilst the Sheriff takes all the credit. Inevitably he'll end up as a sacrifical lamb when King Richard returns from the the Crusades and discovers his coffers plundered, his budgets smashed and his peasants demotivated and grumbling.

Still, a good dinner and some team exercises (maybe an away-day in Thetford Forest) should give them a fun chance to air their views and restore loyalty in the ranks.

Robin Hood - inspiring stuff.

A nice cup of tea

2006-11-24T05:59:00.000-08:00

Having been nudged by a friend to provide an update (and having gotten over being spooked by a news story a couple of months ago) I'd like to share an amusing incident that happened at the beginning of this week with you.

As you know one of my duties is to keep the stationery cupboard well stocked; this also extends to ensuring that there are enough dishwasher tablets, washing up liquid in the kitchen and that the kettles work. (These people get through a *lot* of caffeine).

Anyway the kettle that gets used the most finally gave up the ghost and broke down. The request for a new one was forwarded to me, along with a message asking whether I "could possibly order a rapid-boil kettle next time, since we waste time having to wait for this sort of kettle to boil".

I can see those vital seconds slipping away as I write. Bearing in mind that we don't work for the emergency services, but in the kind of industry where *everything* is late, rapid-boil kettle or none.

I think it may have been the same person who requested that the building lift was looked at, because "the doors take too long to close after you've pressed the button".

Bless.

Does anyone else...

2006-10-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

......think that the latest Natwest advert has based it's backing music on the Birdie song? Not sure I'd want to bank with somewhere that reminds me of humiliating 80s parties, flapping my arms in my ra-ra skirt and deely-boppers. (Is that how you spell deely-boppers?)

Bank Holiday treat

2006-05-02T07:20:00.000-07:00

Last week it was reported to me that the urinals on one of our floors had issues (not psychological ones, though I wouldn't have blamed them). One was blocked and the other was leaking. Luckily I didn't have to go and investigate myself; Dyno-Rod arrived on Friday with lots of, er, dyno-rods and did something to mend them. Dyno-Rodded them, in fact. That's what the work note said. I think they're trying for market placement, like Hoover did, but I picked my favourite colleague to conjugate the verb 'to Dyno-Rod' with me:

I Dyno-Rod
You Dyno-Rod
He/She/It (You formal) Dyno-Rods etc.

And to continue in the past participle:
I Dyno-Rid
You Dyno-Ridded
They Dyno-Rode (that one came from another colleague who was listening in)
You (pl.) Dyno-Rad

Etc.

Really set me up for the weekend

The Mystery of the Missing Teaspoons

2006-03-30T08:12:00.000-08:00

It's amazing - you know how when you pair up a load of socks that you've just washed and there's always at least one that has it's mate missing, but you have no idea where it could have gone? Well the black hole of the washing machine is reproducing itself right here in my workplace.

The numbers of teaspoons we have available have been steadily declining for some months now and finally someone came up and told me. It's a total mystery as to where they're going (but I hope it's a happy place; I'm pretty sure they're not being thieved) and I plan to replace them with plastic ones.

They'll probably be found in 5 years time, stuffed in the cistern.

2006-03-08T14:11:00.000-08:00

Return of the Shower Man

2006-03-08T14:10:00.000-08:00

Friday brought a Health & Safety issue. I kind of like these cos a)they make me feel important and b)it’s the nearest I’ve ever got to living life on the edge.

Anyway, the issue was reported by the Herbal Essences guy, the only one as far as I’m aware who actually uses the shower. I was asked if I had 5 minutes so trundled down to see him, whereupon the H&S representative was also grabbed and we all headed for the shower.

The shower is in a tiny room with a small sink and some shelves. The cleaners also use it to store the bulk loads of toilet rolls and paper towels that they order in. So, standing uncomfortably close to the H&S representative and Shower Man I was informed that the stacking of the toilet rolls and paper towels was an issue. True, they towered in a wobbly stack above my head, but I really didn’t need a demonstration of how they could topple (vigorous prodding of the toilet rolls) and what could happen if they fell (tapping of the head).

I swiftly agreed that Something Should Be Done and backed out of the shower to the sniggers of my colleagues.

A precarious situation thus averted, I happily trotted back to my desk.

4 sets of drywipe markers & a packet of blu-tac

2006-02-23T09:09:00.000-08:00

This week's order.

Actually, this week has seen real highs and lows in the world of stationery and facilities. Despite a slight panic when the milk turned up later than expected it appears that we have defeated the milk thieves, yippee. Maybe they've moved on to bigger and better things, in Kent......

Now that our security is good we have also had two alarm alerts and me and an especially over-zealous colleague spent two great days playing Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. After following several cold leads my line of inquiry on alert No. 2 led me to the people who change the sanitary bins in our toilets (always comes back to the toilets - such is life). Alert No. 1 is still a complete mystery to us.

Milk thieves

2006-02-16T06:37:00.000-08:00

Someone has been nicking our corporate milk, apparently just after Dairy Crest have delivered it.

They started off being quite subtle - a half-pint here, a couple of pints there - but soon progressed on to a whole crate. Which is when we Noticed.

I personally was all for crouching in the bushes with night vision glasses and a supply of milk bottle tops to see these fiends for myself (who steals milk from doorsteps these days? It's like apple-scrumping; if that's what kids wanted Jamie Oliver wouldn't have his MBE), but instead we collaborated with Dairy Crest and outfoxed them by having the milk delivered later. Cunning.

I don't even like milk.

Morally,

2006-01-30T14:20:00.000-08:00

is it wrong to frank your personal post with the company machine?

Someone at work lost their mobile phone.....

2006-01-16T13:52:00.000-08:00

.....'wicked', I thought. 'This is my chance to show how efficient I am'.

But when I called the guy up to order a new one I was put on hold for 10 minutes with the Benny Hill theme tune loud enough for the guy who'd lost his phone to hear squeaking out of the handset.

So much for my plan. And our professional suppliers.

Editing at the weekend

2006-01-07T05:30:00.000-08:00

Nothing of note has really happened since the water cooler incident.

I did, however, order a super-sized mass of stationery before I left yesterday, so I'm expecting the excitement of that delivery around Tuesday. Can't wait to unpack those post-its as my colleagues gaze enviously at my boxes. Ho ho.

I'll keep you lucky folk posted.

Oh yes and

2006-01-03T13:48:00.000-08:00

I forgot to mention the water cooler.

The water cooler has been leaking since before Christmas (since before I went away on holiday, then) and it's not the drip-tray. I've established this, the official engineer has established this and now it seems so have several apparently wannabe water cooler engineers that are currently masquerading as professionals in an entirely different industry.

So, my much put-upon colleague unplugged the machine (just before Christmas, but after the service-centre had closed) so that no-one got electrocuted. Today someone goes up to her desk and asks her whether the cooler is working. No, she replies. "But there's water in there", he says. Yes, she says. "So are you sure it's not working". Yes, we haven't yet had an engineer out to mend it. "Right, so it's not working?" No. "Even though there's water in there." That's right. "So I can't have any of that water?" Well [trying hard to be polite], if you're happy drinking 2 week-old stagnant water help yourself, but it's probably not a good idea. "So why isn't the Out of Order sign bigger?" What? "I can't read the Out of Order sign. You'd better make it bigger."

And then he just wanders away from her desk.

First day back at work.....

2006-01-03T12:59:00.000-08:00

...... began in a typical fashion. Start as you mean to go on.

The lift was broken. I work on the top floor, the 4th one. 8 flights of stairs. 8. I've been climbing the b******s for 6 months in a vague attempt to get fit, but still greet everyone gasping for breath when I get into the office.

Anyway, I'm in admin., and following a 'business re-organisation to fully maximise the untapped potential of our efficient solution', (redundancies), part of my responsibilities are the toilets. To this end (ho ho) when a guy turned up to deliver some toilet-relevant stuff it was my duty to help him. In lugging 6 packs of 24 industrial toilet-rolls, 3 packs of 12 super-absorbant (and super-heavy) rolls of hand-drying paper stuff like the ones you get in public toilets and 3 large scary-looking cardboard boxes up from the ground floor, as it turned out. 8 flights, 2 people and no offers of help under the duress of my post-Christmas lethargy.

Gits.

By now in a less-than-charitable mood, I received a request about when the shower will be working again. I think it's a bit icky having a shower at work, personally (though found it highly amusing when someone asked it was a 'multi-sex' one, ha ha) but appreciated that not everyone thinks that. Until it started to get blocked up. (I know, ew). We fixed it, it broke. We fixed it again, it broke again. So now we're calling in the big guns, the Under Warranty guys. The thing is that the last time it broke was 2 days before Christmas and now it's the first day back after the Christmas holidays - the guy knew I was on holiday so why ask me today if the shower is fixed?

If he wasn't in training to run the London Marathon I'd be tempted to sabotage his Herbal Essences shampoo.

Happy New Year

2006-01-03T12:41:00.000-08:00

This is great, my very own log.