We're in the middle of a big refurbishment at work. We've spent a few quid on getting virtually the whole place refurbished and redecorated. It was long overdue and, as we've just signed a lease to stay here for another ten years, it looks to be a good investment.
In the short term it means some discomfort. while one office is being done we have to squeeze like sardines playing a game of sardines into another office, then all move around the next week. My office this week is a room the size of that pothole on the Galle Road the other day. That is to say it's pretty supermassive for a pothole, but as offices go it's not up in the same league as an average Sri Lankan cabinet for sheer size.
The ceilings are not all put in place yet. The interesting result of this is that noise travels around from office to office in the gap above where the false ceiling will eventually go. Eavesdropping never been either so easy or so much fun. I can listen to conversations happening on the other side of the building with remarkable ease. Sadly none of them are interesting or even worth the effort.
I have noticed something that makes me smile and laugh, in a wholly boss like condescending and patronising way. Most of the office staff are women, no reason, no sexism, it's just the way things have turned out. I could tell tales about them being ugly and unattractive, but I shan't, that's not my style.
What I've noticed is the effect that a few manual worker types, all muscle and swear words, rather like myself except I don't have the muscle, have had on the gaggle of women. These women, who I have worked with for years, have suddenly become like supercharged sex symbols. There are high heels appearing where trainers used to be the norm, there's make up, trendy and stylish clothes and even laughter and smiles. I can live with most of it but laughter and smiling in a place of work is appalling, can you imagine the effect on productivity?
Women readers help me please. What on Earth is it about these manual worker types that makes women swoon and go all wobbly kneed? Why does a few days with a bloke that gets his hands dirty for a living make these women turn to putty in their calloused hands?
Most importantly; How does one go about getting one of these jobs?
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