Friday afternoon was a mournful affair. The usual mass evacuation left the office looking like some end-of-the-world film set as people mumbled about afternoon meetings and cried off with phantom headaches.

The few of us that remained clock watched and made needless cups of tea to make the time pass faster. It didn’t


The skiver now enters his fourth week away from the office with no official reason from She Who Must Be Obeyed about his whereabouts.

It’s like having some mad uncle in the attic room that everyone knows about but refuse to acknowledge. Office life. A manila padded folder of madness.


The skiver enters his third week away from the office. We’ve since found out that he is subject to an internal investigation after the mother of all ding-dongs with the boss ended with him calling her a liar.

I’m sure it will add a few more inches of permafrost to their already chilly relationship.

I’ve no doubt he’ll spin out his current sojourn a while longer then limp back to work for a while before the whole sorry cycle starts again.

Well, he’s getting paid through all this malarkey so I guess he’s laughing at the end of the day. I’m waiting for him to ring up saying he can’t come in because of stress.

God give us strength (and him a redundancy letter).

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