When I worked full time in an office (long time ago) my colleague Flavio was away on a work trip so often, we spent hours making a model Flav (with a balloon head) to put in his chair.
When I worked at Shellys in the head office, our office was next to the warehouse door. Mc Neat (yes him) gave us rides round the warehouse in the forklift truck.
The last office I worked in regularly in Tottenham, as a freelance, I spent most of my time sitting next to Mr Ahmed, who did the finances, learning about Islam (he was super religious) and trying to figure out what was going on, on the Pakistani radio station he listened to. Gossiping (and praying) was done between racks of shoes in the top of the warehouse. And there was lots of trying on of outfits and costumes, one of the workers there did drag and theatre in his free time, would order the gear in and try it at the office, then there was the clothes borrowed to shoot for Instagram, we’d try them on too. They sold parking spaces to football fans because they were so near to the stadium, so we’d waste time checking out and discussing the (usually) gammony Essex boys who showed up to park there in their SUVs, one fella used to arrive then wash his car. Mental. And the time my friend (who freelanced there and got me the job) ordered a load of kit from Amazon for her trip to Mecca for her Umrah and we all had to try that on. She’d even bought knee pads for all the praying she planned to do. It was the cusp of covid and she’d bought a respirator mask, what with all the get up on and the PPE, the fact that shes not modest or hijabi we were all struggling to keep a straight face.
I go into an office in Manc regularly now for meetings but theres not much time for messing about, apart from trying on and blagging clothing samples.
