Thursday, 13 November 2008

I just donnnnnt want to chat, GET ME!

Haha. You know what I did yesterday. I actually hid from someone I didn't want to talk to in the office.

I haven't hidden from someone in aaaaaggges. You know when you use proper stealth avoidance tactics.

There's a bloke in the office, who, when bored, is a menace to what I like to call my afternoon quiet time. Every afternoon he'll get bored and do the rounds, stop by my desk and hang about there for longer than the time deemed acceptable for office lingering. Especially if I'm trying to do some work, clearly answering the phone, typing, looking at the screen, eating a biscuit - he doesn't seem to take the hint. Then there's the way he speaks. Those of you who aren't familiar with London accents might not get it, but Londoners you surely will. He speaks like a rudeboy. Making a sucking noise with his mouth at the end of sentences. Kissing his teeth. Punctuating his speech with a drawn out 'Laaiiiike', 'You knoo', 'you get me' or worse still, 'init'. It drives me mad.

Argh, and he always has some sort of story to tell and he'll tell it really dramatically and sloooowwwwly to draw out the time away from his desk. Monday he decided to fill me in on how bad Sunday had been. His car, you knooo, had got a puncture on the way to football and he'd had to change it, init. That, as far as I can tell, was the gist of it, but he managed to draw it out for a good five minutes "and, oh my GOSH! It was, laaike, raining and naaaaasty, you get me!". He then whittled on about football, which I hate more than packaged sandwiches. Even when I told him I hate football, "especially when blokes go on about it", we then had to have a discussion about that. That's right: we had a discussion about how much I hate discussions about football. And no amount of busying myself with the four page handwritten document in front of me (which might as well have been written in Arabic for all the sense it made) would stop it.

Then after about ten minutes more of him hanging around my desk yabbering on about football (which I hate, did I mention that) he finally said "Raaaite, well laike I be'ah get back to my work now, init" and meandered off and away. Thank god for that.

So yesterday, I wasn't having it. I peeked over my computer and saw him wondering my way. Immediately got up and dashed past him in manner of Busy Woman Going About Duties and hid behind someones desk on the other side of the office. I kept poking my head around and when I saw he was gone, I went back.

Now I'm not a wholly unsociable little scamp. I do like a bit of conversation to pass the day, but blimey - office bores of the world take note - hints are there to be taken. Init.

13 comments:

Miss Milk said...

Does he talk like Jamie Oliver?

Robbie said...

I guess all your previous trainging from here helped a lot.
http://sleepingeyes.blogspot.com/2008/11/secretary.html

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Miss Milk - 'rudeboy' is worse than Jamie Oliver. More a British 50 Cent. Think Dizzee Rascal.

Robbie - Secretarial training also includes a chapter on how to avoid people in offices...yes ... ;)

The Unbearable Banishment said...

Perhaps he fancies you? That would be bad news. If that’s the case, he’s going to become increasingly more difficult to avoid.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Oh dear god I hope not. I mean, what with my secretarial prospects I am a bit of a catch, but still. No ta!

Martin said...

I'd've punched him, straight off, before he'd had a chance to build up a head of steam.

I know that accent, and I can't stand it, you have my sympathies for being subjected to it.

You need to find a handy nearby large-plastic-office-plant and stash some supplies in there so you can hide at short notice and for prolonged periods of time if TUB is right and he fancies you. Doesn't seem the sort to give up easily!

rosiewishes. said...

My first thought was that he fancies you... Lucky lucky you!

blueskies2day said...

I, too, did wonder whether he fancies you.

The guy I sit next to at work started chatting to me on Facebook chat earlier this evening. I had to restrain myself from pointing out that he can't possibly have anything more to say after sitting next to me for 8 hours already today.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Martin, I do have a plant of sorts on my desk, but its starting to wilt and I don't think it'd be very good to hide behind. I do have a partition in front of my desk though, making underneath the desk a good option. Glad you can sympathise with the accent. NA MEAN!

rosie & blueskies - By that logic, he fancies most people in the office!

BlackLOG said...

You have a choice to make :-

1. Put up with this dull retard and find more comfortable hiding places.
2. Accidently send him a link to "I just donnnnnt want to chat, GET ME!"
3. Hire a hit man and get on with your life. If he does the same to lots of people in your office you could probably cover the cost with a whip-round, you might even make a small profit.....

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

All good suggestions. Hit man might get a bit messy, but number 1. seems to work for me.

Mouldy-Old-Tartlet said...

Oo dear. And I bet that, despite the accent, he's about as `homeboy/street' as Mr Jamie Oliver, or even Nigel Kennedy (remember him? "Monster!").

I had an office bore to contend with in my first job when I was 18 (tsk - those were the days). He was a 32-year old South African called Graham with this weird hair that reminded me of those dandelions with all the seeds. Anyway, Graham would regale me with long drawn out stories on train times, what he had had for dinner the previous evening and, occasionally, flagellation. Eventually I got my own back by (whoops!) accidentally locking him in to the basement office toilets. I understood he was eventually released by the office cleaner two hours later.

Lapa said...

hapens

 

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