All the World’s an Office

21st
Jan. × ’10
By frenchelbow

In answer to your many emails, yes I am alive.
The reason I have been busy and posted no new DUFL’s of late is due to something really quite cool. I started Dead Under Fluorescent Lights in March 2009, so it seems only fitting that in March 2010 something a little different should take place. To all those in the cubicle club, I give you…

Dead Under Fluorescent Lights at the Melbourne Comedy Festival!

If you’re a fan of this blog, you can purchase TICKETS from Ticketmaster as of today.
I’ve also got a group discount, so if you bring along 6 or more co-workers it’s cheaper – even better, get your boss to fund it as a work outing!
They love tax write offs that have booze attached.

Dead Under Fluorescent Lights

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Junkie See, Junkie Do

15th
Dec. × ’09
By frenchelbow

After removing my damp nostrils from a stranger’s armpit, I hopped off the overcrowded morning train and started walking in the direction of my office. I bumped into Steph just outside the train station and our greetings were deflated by the blaring siren of a fire truck that hurtled past us. I found it amusing that we both crossed our fingers when we saw it.

Sadly our office was still intact when we arrived, but just outside the entrance was a junkie who bore a striking resemblance to Iggy Pop, in as much as he looked like a vein wrapped around a skeleton. I gave him a small handful of shiny and after we entered the lobby Steph berated me for handing out money to him. I explained that it was only a few dollars and I enjoyed helping someone, even if in a shallow and token way. She argued that I was only enabling his drug fuelled lifestyle.

When it was time for someone to do the morning coffee run, Steph was arguing with Mike over a latté he owed her from a few weeks ago. Mike was adamant that it was the other way around. They continued to squabble loudly across the walls of my cubicle until I calmly stood up and gave Steph the money needed for her morning caffeine, which she gleefully accepted.

It’s nice to know I helped two addicts get their fix this morning.

 

Yo, where my tweeps at?! – http://twitter.com/DUFL

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Shocking Stuffers

13th
Dec. × ’09
By frenchelbow

You can tell when it’s Christmas time in an office. The atmosphere is somehow different, everyone is full of cheer, cheer being an amalgam of ‘cheap’ and ‘liquor’. The multitude of parties and lunches has certainly left some rosy cheeks and greying livers, but if being fuzzed from intoxicants creates a happier environment, who am I to Scrooge on their parade.

I was strolling through the kitchen to kill time, and find some aspirin for my boss, when I happened upon a small festive cardboard box on the counter top. The note on the side welcomed food and toy donations for the neighbouring housing projects and already it was half full of tinned food and other groceries. I immediately decided to head over the road to the supermarket and grab a few things to donate. Out of curiosity, I peered inside to see what people had given. Under some chips was a packet of condoms with a note taped to the front that read

‘your kids break my windows – please stop having them, Merry Xmas’

I know what you’re thinking “If my cockles get any warmer, my heart might start a fire”

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A Solitaire Life

7th
Dec. × ’09
By frenchelbow

Our servers have been down for most of this morning, we couldn’t even log on to our computers. Strangely, a boring day bled into brilliance when I watched Craig, an awkward pause made flesh, stop playing solitaire on his PC and pull out a deck of cards to continue his game without missing a beat.

 

 http://twitter.com/DUFL

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Face Off

1st
Dec. × ’09
By frenchelbow

No matter who you are or what position you hold within an office there is one golden rule “Hold it together in front of the client”. You might have just found out that your mother died during intercourse with your girlfriend and a Dyson, but as far as the area above your neck is concerned, it’s client-face until that final handshake in the lobby. Elevators are made for crying, boardrooms are made for firing. Steve, the man who tact forgot, is usually the grandmaster of client-face. Today I saw that mask slip a little, well if I’m honest, a lot actually. Quite a lot.

In the middle of a very important strategy meeting for next year’s Sales pipeline, which basically means how much money the Sales team will be bringing in. My boss likes to refer to the pipeline as ‘The Ho-Basket’. The name came about from some after work drinks where I pointed out that rappers must have some form of Budget for the Ho’s in their video clips. That there is literally an accountant who sits there and dictates how many rump flapping girls they can afford to drape over the rap artiste at any given time. My boss enjoyed the concept so much that The Ho-Basket moved into our office lexicon.

The Sales Manager Polly was pointing out the value we could add to the client’s advertising campaigns for 2010 and I was doing my best to keep my client-face shining. Steve’s pocket rang out loudly. I didn’t recognise the tune, it was your standard teenage pop-starlet type of song. The kind where you know the singer was carefully strategising when to leak her next accidental sex-tape, complete with Pepsi product placement next to a set of vibrators and furry handcuffs.

Steve played it cool, excused himself and stood just outside the door of the meeting room. I could clearly hear him yelling out “Yes!” from the gap in the door. When Steve walked back in, he was all smiles and looked like the proverbial cream filled cat. We all turned to him as he sat down and with great excitement he blurts out

“She got her period. Fuckin’ A”

My boss’ face went redder than the time he ate a double quarter pounder in one go.
I’m guessing there will be fewer Ho’s in next year’s basket.

 

Yo, where my tweeps at?! – http:/twitter.com/DUFL

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A Bit of a Downer

22nd
Nov. × ’09
By frenchelbow

Since my boss returned to work he’s noticed a distinct lack of morale in our team. It has a little bit to do with the huge workload we have and everything to do with the fact my boss keeps interrupting me, hauling my infuriated carcass into his office and forcing me read the dating profiles of all the women he’s interested in, just in case they’re actually men. The process involves checking how muscular their shoulders are and seeing if their hobbies include indoor soccer. I talked him out of asking for photographs of their hands and necks as that might come off as somewhat creepy. I fear there may have been an incident on his trip to Thailand.

Sensing the blanket of malcontent our department is rugged up in, my boss took the initiative of preparing a motivational slide show for us to sit through. The majority of slides were of people standing on mountains or footprints left on a sandy beach. It was the final slide that really stood out.  The photo showed a young man in a superman costume who was clearly mentally handicapped. The message above him read “It’s time to turn this Down syndrome, into an Up Syndrome” At that point my boss gave us all an exuberant thumbs up to really hit the point home, much like the final glossy red swing of a seal club.

When Mike pointed out that this might be considered offensive, my boss countered with the argument

“You can’t really make fun of retards because they’re oblivious to it. If a mongospaz doesn’t get the joke, then were you ever really making fun of them?”

I’m no expert, but I’m fairly sure he got that from ancient Zen Buddhist scripture.

Oh shit, it just occurred to me. Perhaps he wants the ones with Adams Apples.

Yo, where my tweeps at? – http://twitter.com/DUFL

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Stand and De-Liver

17th
Nov. × ’09
By frenchelbow

When I go back to work after a holiday I feel as though I have a form of jetlag. A Funlag if you will. My body is seated in front of the keyboard yet my mind is waiting for my monitor to take my cocktail order. It can get so bad that when I look at my cup of morning coffee, my brain fills in the gap by adding a little umbrella.

My boss on the other hand doesn’t suffer from Funlag. He has returned to the office with a renewed sense of purpose and loads of ideas on how we can ‘actualise’ more as a team. I’m not sure what that means, when he said it the work experience kid nodded like a hostage so I guess it must be good.

I’ve often wondered what my boss actually does, from what I can see his role is comprised of making PowerPoint slides of overlapping circles featuring pictures of smiling men in ties shaking hands with women doing the thumbs up gesture, usually there is one black guy off to one side standing way behind them quietly approving of the thumbs.

This morning my suspicions of were confirmed when my boss had me sit through a meeting where he projected a graph depicting how effective graphs are.

I went to the pub straight after the presentation.
My liver has become the dipstick for my mental health.

 

Yo, where my tweeps at?! – http://twitter.com/DUFL

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A Little Off Filter

5th
Nov. × ’09
By frenchelbow

Hey there fellow hive-workers,

I have been a bit busy of late on some other writing gigs and that equates to fewer DUFL’s for you to read. Apologies for that, to hopefully make up for the lack of schadenfreude in your lives I’m going to share a video that some friends and I recently made. We all felt that filtering our Internet simply wasn’t going far enough – so here is a further solution.

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Rise & Shudder

20th
Oct. × ’09
By frenchelbow

Motivation, some people don’t seem to need it at all, others drink it from Styrofoam cups. You have to admit though; there is a breed of person who is unfalteringly chirpy in the face of adversity. Where some would simply give up or indeed just not care, these chosen few switch their frowns into reverse and don their best theatrical winks every day of the week. They exhibit the blind optimism of people who nail up missing bird posters.

I wouldn’t say that I’m highly motivated, unless it’s something I’m passionate about. As you may have surmised, I’m not all that enraptured by my office. I think writing about it is the only thing preventing me from doing a celibate Michael Hutchence in the storage room. Although this week has been somewhat of a blessing, for you see, my boss is on holiday. The days have flown by so smoothly I barely realised he was gone, although the youngest girl in our team has taken it upon herself to become our departmental cheerleader in his absence. Envision the relief of finding out you don’t have HIV being replaced by the gut-punch of Herpes. 

Due to a downpour last night, I had planned to spend my morning cycle wrapped up in my warm bed. I liked this plan, it was a good plan and everything was going according to it. Until, despite turning off my alarm, I was still rudely awakened by the piercing electronic beep of my phone. It was a message from Princess Perky. The contents of which was so mind bogglingly offensive to read at 7am that it had me reaching for my leather belt and gauging whether my ceiling fan could take my weight.

I’ve had to fight the urge to grammatically correct the following, but I feel that any changes would be like giving the Mona Lisa a breast augmentation.

Whats fuzzy, filled wit letters & makes u feel good.
This!
GOOD MORNIN. Spread the smile and give at least 2 people a hug on ur way in.
I love you guys

7am… Christ, it’s like waking up to find a Care Bear smoking a cigarette in bed with you and saying ‘boy, you were really drunk last night, but not too drunk’

 

Yo, where my tweeps at? – http://twitter.com/DUFL

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Gloat Like A Butterfly

19th
Oct. × ’09
By frenchelbow

I never understood why so many people exercise in their lunch hour or before work. Of late though, I’ve been getting up early and riding my bicycle and I really enjoy it. Through the simple act of heading outside and upping my heart rate, my whole day improves. When I would normally moan and roll my eyes, I serenely sit in my adjustable chair as my annoyance melts away. There are of course some people who shouldn’t indulge in exercise, the sudden rush of endorphins doesn’t encourage a peaceful euphoria. Instead the chemical surge enhances their aggression, they basically become angry drunks.

Steve started a pre-work boxing course about a month ago, and the results are increasingly apparent. Instead of him glossing over when asked a question, his eyes flicker with a meth intensity and he constantly spars with whoever is talking with him. It’s really hard to conduct a conversation when the other person is ducking and weaving, throwing mock boxing fists inches from your face and yelling

“Eat the Steve, taste the pain bitch!”

This morning Steve was punching the absolute crap out of some thin air and complaining about his son. He’s about 20 years old and works here in our office, but I suspect his real job is creating inter-parental wars for profit. Steve was whinging about how disrespectful his son was when Polly remarked that he could keep him in line now that he’s learning how to box. I don’t think he recognised it was a light-hearted comment, because Steve simply told us he’d already punched his son in the head before. The office went silent and a garden of heads started popping up over the cubicle walls, straining towards the eavesdropping sun. Sensing an immediate uneasiness, he tried to rectify the situation with

“Aw, not lately or anything – it was back when he was a kid”

I’m really not sure how that is supposed to make it better.
It’s like trying to put out a fire by smothering it in petrol.

 

Yo, where my tweeps at? – http://twitter.com/DUFL

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