22 December 2006

Work is dead quiet, and there is barely a white face around the building. The lack of activity generally has re-invigorated the boss and he appears to have taken it upon himself to keep up corporate productivity over the holiday period based solely on my output from work he has delegated to me.

I have booked 4 days off over the holidays and I can tell now that my boss will not let me have them. If he has to work, then he will make sure everyone knows about it and he likes to share the pain.

Its all a bit crap, little excitement about Christmas and I’m jealous of all my colleagues who have flown home. It reminded me a little like hanging on at University for resits when everyone else goes off inter-railing. It all sounds so glamourous until you find out they have been sleeping amongst cigarette butts on dirty train platforms and living on strangely flavoured chewing gum. Likewise my colleagues who have flow home are not wearing Christmas jumpers and singing carols round the tree, glass of mulled wine in their hands, they are variously hitch hiking through the UK in a desperate bid to actually get home for a few days during their week off or sleeping on the floor in Heathrow waiting for the fog to lift.
Having to work and extra day or so to spend a week on a beach doesn’t sound so bad after all