Stress at Work? Damn Tooting!

The bane of my life is driving me nuts.

No, it’s not the wife, its work.  Doing. My. Head. In.

I know, I know, I’ve said it all before.  But the last month or so is making me bang my head against the wall.  There are so many incompetent people in this world, it is scary.

Truly scary.

I’ve got a job where I can’t say anything.  No matter how useless the boss is, how much of a waste of time this particular task is, I can’t say a word.  Not a dickie.  I can tell my boss my concerns, he’s on the same page and agrees with me, but that’s as far as it goes.  Nothing else will be said.

The joys of being a Civil Servant.

Diplomacy is an art form.  I am a master.

You have to have so many faces to deal with the different people and their problems.  I have never seen so many moaning people in one place.  It’s like a full bingo hall where the same old biddy won the main prize twice in a row. 

Sadly, in this space in time, I can’t go elsewhere.  I’m stuck with this job for the foreseeable future.

It’ll either end by me strangling the management or creating a large alcove in the nearest wall to my desk.

It’s my birthday. Again.

Hello world, it’s me again.

I won’t drone on about absence as I’m sure your all pretty tired of it now. No excuses.

Anyway, today is my birthday, Yep, I’m getting old.  Another year passes by, all too bleeding quickly, and it’s another towards collecting my pension.

It’s no biggie, I’m only 31 now so not quite over the hill and past it, but as you grow older it seems the less important birthdays become.  I remember being young and every birthday being the best thing to ever happen, full of party bags and jelly.

Wind on ten years, the teenage years, with the jelly being replaced with jelly shots of vodka.  Good times.  I’m still having flashbacks of good nights.

Then it’s 18th – Pub.  Then it’s 21st – Pub.

After that it doesn’t seem to matter.  The novelty wears off and the need for presents dwindles because if you want something, you can just go and buy it.  And obviously the older you get, the ‘settling down’ instinct has kicked in.  I got married at 25.  First child when I was 28.  Second child when I was 30.

I don’t need a party, cake or surprises.  I just need sleep.  Lots of sleep.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks of it like this.  Naturally there are those individuals who stay the mental age of 5 and insist on having a bouncy castle every year and who are now 43.

That’s not me.  Give me a cup of tea, a biscuit, Pointless on the telly and five minutes peace.

That’ll do.

And hey, I share the same birthday as the late, great Tommy Cooper.

And Bruce Willis.

Yippee-ky-aye mutha……..