I didn't exactly skip into work on Wednesday evening but I was in a fairly happy mood if a little tired. I had been off for two days and I always feel a slight tinge of trepidation upon returning to work. You never know what "fantastic" idea they have come up with in my absence. I don't handle change well and am a firm believer of leavings things alone.
I mean I freaked out the day one of them moved the container of tea bags. It was fine where it was. Proper mental episode involving banging, thumping, swearing and indeed huffing. And there was plot loss maximus the day I came back to work to discover a small mutiny was taking place. The management didn't like the booking system, my booking system and had got the rest of my co-workers all agitated into believing that it needed changed. It didn't need changed, they just needed to spend some time learning it. Change my system? Over my cold dead fat body.
Believe me I am an absolute fucking joy to work with. Was the the sound of egg shells?
this has one use....But I threw a fit this evening, I threw a fit and then some. I was completing my pre shift checklist. By completing I mean I was ticking all the boxes. Did I actually water the plants and check the fridge for extra condiments? I couldn't possibly say. But I do like to ensure the toilets are
....and one use alone
....and one use alone
So in I popped to complete the paranoid half hourly toilet check. Stalls were fine, stocked and clean. The mirrors were free from spit, curious stains, and worse. Hand soaps, fine. Hand dryer functioning as required, in other words it still takes 20 minutes to dry your slightly damp hands. Urinal not overflowing.
But wait, what's this?
What the fuckity fuck is this in the urinal?
Is that what I think it is?
Is that a football and nets? GET ME A MANAGER!
Now I appreciate humour as much as the next person. I enjoy jokes and games and have been known to let myself go from time to time. Why only last month I watched the latest Harold and Kumar movie. And who doesn't enjoy a dirty limerick or two? Eh? Who?
But bugger me is there really a need for urinal games the object of which is to score goals using your piss? And is the toilet of a restaurant really the best place for such an endeavor? And unless your company is directly involved with urinals, the production of urinals, the cleaning of said troughs, or whatever do you really want your company name being pissed on? Andrex aside I'd venture the answer would be no. But the good and clearly mental people at JJB Sports seem to think it's a good idea. I mean how did that marketing meeting go?
"What we need lads is a pish related game. That'll put us right on top of the sports outlets tree. Take that Foot Locker."
I mean you'd have to be tripping to think it's a winner. No manger would entertain me. I was told to "wind my neck in." Wind my neck in is it? Oh we shall just fucking see about that. This ain't over, not by a long way. Pissing games? What next cock wrestling and wine nights?
I was confident though my customers wouldn't get involved in such poppycock (pun intended, obviously). But I was wrong. I went to check the toilets at 8.30pm to discover two of my Swedish gents, both well into their forties, from one of tables getting stuck in to a game of pissing football. There they were, willies out, pish flowing trying to score more goals than the other.
The progression from ape to man is now over and in fact we are now reversing all our evolutionary gains. Still it has to be said their game was marginally better than Liverpool's match. Less pissy too.