Girl Friday

When the weekend finally emerges its weary head, ready to be
rejuvenated, reality takes on a surreal vision. Everything appears
dissimilar at the weekend rather than during the mundane Monday to
Friday. At the weekend, the day doesn't commence when the shrilling
alarm clock pierces your inner ear at 7am and doesn't finish at
6pm.

Getting through the week is the hardest task, rather like an assault
course, if you manage to get through it unscathed, the weekend is your
prize and can be a conglomerate of eventful or sometimes uneventful
actions.

7am and the evil high-pitched helium induced shrill fills my room with
a coded message of ITS TIME TO WAKE UP. I often think it is lying, and
I am convinced that I have been asleep for no longer than twenty
minutes. Dragging my carcass out of bed, semi conscious, getting
dressed and leaving my haven is quite a handful of tasks to muddle
through within the early hours and the day has not even begun. I will
be encased in the rat race of working professionals for another 10
hours at least.

stage two is the train station. I have reached a forgone conclusion
that in order to board a train during the rush hour in the unnaturally
early twilight hours of the morning , being somewhat of an athlete is
proving to be a rather sought after skill of late.

The vision of eighty or more people perched toe to tip on the edge of
the platform appears to be of uncanny similarity to that of a 100 metre
sprint. In actual fact, it is a horde of people on the first hideous
leg of their journey. I can almost envision the leg launches and
jogging on the spot warm ups to prepare the clammy palmed people as
they wait in anticipation for the ready, steady go sign of the flashing
torch emerging from the bleak, vacuumed tunnel, carrying its snaking
train behind it, speeding past you, skimming only an inch of your nose.
The doors crash open and the obstacle race continues as the scurrying
ant people leap on in a furious pace stealthily preplanning their route
for the ultimate prize. A seat

Once you have been enveloped in this time capsule, carrying you
languidly to your destination through the never ending dreary tunnel,
paved out to by what seems to be an amphetamined intoxicated mole, you
can engage on a particular pastime diversion. I personally am an
analyser and place fellow passengers in to particular categories. You
are either the observer, the thinker, the incessant sniveller, the
comotosed head nodding passenger, or the reader usually in pocession of
a billboard sized broadsheet.

The train grinds to a halt at my station and the train regurgitates
teams of individuals on their way to various places of work.

I grab myself a delicious latte from Starbucks, frankly the day cannot
begin without my first dosage of caffeine with many more to follow suit
throughout the day. I may as well have it flowing through my veins
within an intravenous drip though I'm sure there would be a blockage
due to my blood already metamorphosing in to congealed coffee
beans.

I climb the unnecessary amount of stairs and steal a quick glance at my
watch. It doesn't matter how early I manage to drag myself into work, I
always feel like I'm late as the office is already brimming with eager
early birds. I shout a quick hi to the receptionists Mandy and Jude who
seem to be immersed in MTV, nice work if you can get it, and climb the
remaining stairs as the lift seems to be constantly dormant, refusing
to bother collecting me. On my floor the usual orchestral sounds of
photocopiers, fax machines, and printers hum in unison. I turn on my PC
and scan a quick check through my e-mails before my egotistical
meglomaniacal boss arrives.

Luke Crowley suddenly emerges and my mood antennae's try to deduce his
particular mood for the morning. Being Friday I want him to be in a
jolly mood, but as he is head of the corporate food chain, we mere
planktons can quite easily leave the office also feeling as though we
are going through an expensive divorce with no visitation rights to our
dear sproglets and resorting to a rather large G&;T.

Being his PA does not run identically to that of the job spec. Good
heavens no!! I often feel like his mother, which is quite a repugnant
thought. Boys will be boys, especially in the Media. I often feel that
I am encased in a catacomb of luvvies, where "Dah-ling, sweetie" are
the only idioms in their entire vocabulary and tantrums are not
atypical.

Seven foot girls swan around with their long, elegant giraffe necks and
forty inch legs. Their noses so high up in the air, they could be
testing survival techniques within the troposphere. You also get the
ultra trendy varieties, which come in girl and boy assortment. The
funky combats, retro t-shirts and trainers with so many gadgets and
lights attached to them that they could also take jobs as human traffic
lights.

My friend Hayley is my one saving grace in this scary world of
ADVERTISING. She sits at the desk at the other end of the office so we
usually engage in long chats via e-mail, and slagging off most of the
occupants of the office.

This particular Friday, Luke so far has seemed to be in quite a jovial
disposition which worries me as I am convinced he has had his brain
replaced by a happier suitor or he is on class A drugs.

My usual tasks for the day commence, beginning with my bosses expenses.
I wish I could have such a luxury. The only occasion when I have ever
had anything on expenses was when Luke took me out for a "getting to
know each other" lunch which ended up being more of a takeaway as he
was late for an meeting, consequently carrying our expensive French
meal back to the office encased in aluminium plates. I was not
amused.
Especially since the waiter was extremely aesthetically pleasing.

All of the receipts seem to reside under the term entertainment on the
billing sheet. Frankly with this much entertainment, he was surely now
fully qualified to open his own corporate hospitality company rather
than a magazine advertising agency.

I trundle down to the accounts department. I don't mean this
derogatively but accounts people are so dull.
They don't speak. They can only seem to communicate in numbers. In
fact, I'm sure that a battery chicken would soon be forced to take up
an evening class in their presence.

Many e-mail chats with Hayley later, lunch time arrives. Hayley and I
escape before any more tasks can possibly be passed in our direction.
As it is Friday, we decide to engage in a spot of shopping. Hayley will
be joining in the evenings action also therefore new garments must be
purchased.

We pop in to a few high street shops. One we go in to contains the
typically annoying breed of shop assistants. They always look down on
you, and considering that they probably earn a sixteenth of your
salary, this frankly frustrates me further. When I realise that one of
the mannequins, actually was a shop assistant, I politely enquired if
they had the cute fuchsia cardigan in a size 10. She then
telepathically sent me a reply of, "if it's not on the rack, we
probably don't bloody well have it, so you should go to another branch,
instead of sending me down to the cold, dark, spider infested store
room to look for something you PROBABLY WON'T EVEN BUY". This final
point was actually quite accurate, as with her sort of attitude, why
should I pay her wages.

A lunch hour always insists on flashing past in less than a millisecond
and to the dungeon we return for a further four hours. Friday
afternoons are usually frantic and I am in no mood for this one as I am
for any other. Luke has returned from another liquid lunch with one of
his clients. What is the point of these alcoholic induced meetings.
Surely, they are too pissed to talk business. The only conclusion I can
arrive at is if they provide each other with lethal cocktails , fasten
a pen in the other victims hand and in an inebriated state sign each
others contracts. I'm sure its not much more complicated than
that.

At 2.30pm, megalomaniac decides that he wants to give our company
credentials a facelift. To be honest, in the drunken state he's in, his
drooping jaw could do with much the same attention. Muggins here,
therefore has to wait until his creative inspiration instigates his
hand to rewrite one. An hour later, I am presented with a wad of paper
containing various chicken scratchings and objects that I assume are
charts and graphs. Nobody does work on a Friday afternoon and here I am
being unpatriotic to company traditions and compiling PowerPoint
presentations. I think I should request a pay rise. Noone really
appreciates us PA's, the real backbone of efficiently run companies.
Without me, half the time he wouldn't even get out of bed, considering
the amount of times I have had to be his wakeup call and hearing his
sluggish voice in the morning is not the most attractive of sounds to
anyone with sensitive ears.

By 4:30, I am now standing surgically attached to the photocopier.
Sometimes it can be quite therapeutic, listening to this colossal
machine churn away. I find myself drifting away in to thoughts of the
weekend ahead. Will it be this weekend that I finally meet the love of
my life? Single Dom is not exactly what I had planned for myself. Being
an independent career woman is only what I use as an explanation for my
spinsterhood. I find myself analysing my work colleagues around me.
There is just nobody remotely attractive for me to feast my eyes
hungrily on every day. No office flirting. In all the magazines people
are always writing in with stories of their office romances. I think
they should set up agencies, purely for this activity. Agencies where
you are guaranteed an office fling.

OH GOD OH GOD!! PAPER JAM. This is not what I need. When I went on a
secretarial course we did not cover the inner workings and body parts
of technical machinery. I am obviously cursed. I am not in the correct
frame of mind to deal with stress. I should be slowly unwinding for my
recreational suspended two days. I open every possible door, flap, tray
and anything else that opens. Time to put IT Support in to use!
Scruffy IT bloke disguised as an embryo saunters casually towards me.
Surely near enough foetuses are not old enough to work, or maybe they
have reintroduced child labour. He also had a very long head, probably
to store numerous computer manuals. Well, as I could have predicted, he
fixes it in less than a second and makes me feel like my brain cells
wouldn't challenge a snail.

This time I don't drift off on a tangent of thoughts visualising my
knight in shining armour rescuing me and carrying me on his white horse
straight to The Met Bar and ordering a chilled bottle of Dom
Perignon.
Alertness is essential in keeping this hideous creature behaving and
photocopying like a good photocopier should.

Eventually they have been printed, bound and now I was quite ready to
gag them into my bosses mouth.
The end of the working day is just hiding around the corner and I was
ready to embrace it with open arms.
Getting home as quickly as possible to keep the steady flow of action
ticking along smoothly is definitive.
When the clock slowly moves from 5:59 to 6pm, I can almost hear Big Ben
chiming those glorious chimes.. Hayley already has her coat on and is
chatting to Alex, one of the Media Planner/Buyers who I believe she has
a tad of a penchant for.

As per usual Luke calls me in to his office armed with notebook and pen
in tow to write notes for my orders for Monday. He is off to Manchester
for a meeting next week which is fabulous. Luke is somewhat of a
seagull manager, flies into the office occasionally, makes a lot of
noise and flits off again. I must admit though, that the luxury off not
having him hovering around my desk and his advising my every keystroke
for one whole day is an exhilarating thought.

I have my coat on as an unspoken statement that even though I adore
this office and don't have a life outside it and nowhere to go, I have
somewhere to go on this occasion and would frankly like to depart from
this establishment sometime in the near future.

"So, have you got that all then?" I glance down at my long list of
uninviting tasks. By writing so fast I can just about decipher my own
hieroglyphics. I'll just have to improvise on points I can't quite
understand.

"Oh and Miranda will be standing in for me whilst I'm away"
"oh, ok" My heart sank as if the Titanic had sunk in to The Thames.
Miranda was a tormenting bully and my joy of having "Big Brother"
absent for a while was short-lived and to be replaced by the browbeater
"Big Sister" which was a hundred times worse. Being nearly at the top
she was constantly trying to prove her worthiness further up the
corporate food chain and assumed that by owning eight times as many
business suits as anyone else it made her appear far more appropriate
for the job than anyone else.

The usual banter of "Have a good weekend" "See you down the pub" etc
etc fills the air with a more optimistic vibe. Bars, clubs and
hopefully gorgeous personages are in store for me tonight.

Once outside the office, I inhaled a deep breath. Freedom!! It is so
inviting. Hayley and I arrange to meet at 9.30pm outside Leicester
Square Station along with two of our other friends Jess and Gabby. A
slight spring in my step incurs as I am feeling optimistic. I always do
at the weekend. Forever hopeful, that's me.

I push past everyone frantically at the train station as everybody is
moving to the pace of dying snails and trot down the endless
escalators. Rush hour is highly tedious and something I always seem to
be immersed in.

After a very uncomfortable forty five minute journey of pushing shoving
and generally feeling like I am about to pass out from breathing in the
disgusting fumes of other passengers sweat, I am back at where I began
eleven hours ago. I don't think I can possibly endure this for another
thirty odd years!!!

Monday morning proceeds again after the weekend flashes past in a pace
that would put the speed of light to shame. Another week of being
sickly sweet to clients, my boss and a collaboration of more mundane
tasks. to muddle through. I have come to the conclusion that there are
in actual fact two days in the week. Monday to Friday and the weekend.
The week is one elongated and drawn out day, whereby you are allowed to
go home after about ten hours or so to rejuvenate your energy and
recharge your batteries. Maybe we are not humans at all, but work
machines, darlics even, in human form, under the guise of humans. Then
again, if this was so, surely we would be programmed to be happy and
cheery. Something must have gone awry with the darlics at my work's
manufacturers factory production line.

"All of these work machines have been instructed to be megalomaniac
media Moguls, with a special fuse in their pretend brains, to have a
tantrum at every opportunity, oh and to say dah-ling quite a lot
too".

Well this analogy kept me amused on my train journey this morning.
Pissing down with rain this morning the sky was shielded by a huge
canopy of umbrellas. Umbrellas may serve a purpose to a certain degree
by keeping you somewhat dry, but are they windproof? The answer is no.
In fact they especially like to turn inside out and almost fly off with
your person in a Mary Poppins style. Dodging in and out of people with
their umbrellas is also quite an acclaimed skill. In fact I often feel
that I'm taking a pet dog out for a walk. Now now! leopard skin print
umbrella, no time to start sniffing the blue and red stripe umbrella,
as they entangle in the middle of Soho's particularly narrow anti
pedestrian streets.

I arrive at work reasonably dry, my eye still attached to my retina,
just about, after nearly having it poked out by one of those inane rain
proof implements I mentioned earlier. My pony skin boots are actually
drenched which I am reasonably furious about, but I need to relax as it
isn't good for the karma around me. It is only Monday morning for
Heavens sake. I'll try and save my pent up anger for later on in the
week.

I am surprisingly a quarter of an hour early and everyone will be in
the Monday morning meeting which luckily excludes the presence of mere
mortal moi so I decide to hang around reception for a bit. Mandy is on
her own today as Jude is "sick". Actually Jude went away to Liverpool
at the weekend for a "having it large" weekend with all her old
university friends. I get the feeling that Mandy is slightly perturbed
about this, as Monday's are usually quite hectic and also as she won't
have anyone to chat to , so I can expect a barrage of e-mails
later.

By 10am, all the media planners emerge from their meeting and at this
point I make myself look really busy as up to this time I possess the
luxury of being in the office alone and therefore I can catch up with
all my external email recipients and indulge in the usual gossip and
bitching session, harmless, of course, with my ally Hayley, also being
excluded due to her having the same nature of job as me.

As the meeting attendants egress from their meeting I notice two
unfamiliar faces. Alex bounces over to me. With them both in tow and
introduces them to me.
"Morning Luce, how are you today?" to which I answer the scripted reply
"Oh, very well thanks"
"Good, good, that's what I like to hear" Of course he likes to hear
that , could he really deal with me saying, actually I feel bloody
terrible, I feel depressed, I nearly had my eye poked out with an iron
rod, and my new pony skin boots look like they have just been trotting
round fields by themselves in a muddy field, but I continue to smile
serenely.

"This is Kimberley and Samantha, our two new additions to the company.
I continue this marathon length smile which is now beginning to give me
face ache.
"Luke called me from his mobile at the weekend saying sorry he forgot
to inform you that they were starting today instead of next week, you
know what he's like"
It was looking like the next couple of sentences spoken by Alex would
be that I would have to sort out their lives for them, stationary,
P.C's, introductions etc etc. Oh what tedium. I still feel
alcoholically intoxicated from the weekend and now I have to get to
know two complete strangers. Oh, I was so NOT in the mood.
They didn't appear to be too aesthetically offensive, but you have to
be wary of anyone in media. Would they be the bitches from hell or
normal peeps like Hayley and I where not every sentence ended with a
sickly sweet endearment.

I duly began the task at hand and commenced the guided tour of the
building which in actual fact does drag me away from my desk for a
while, so I am quite grateful. I listen in detail to the Michael Aspel
This is your Life " style history of them both. Kimberley, a quite
bohemian looking girl was very pleasant though I could imagine her
resorting to her crystals before she made any decision. She had
graduated in a degree in media studies and performing arts and had been
globe trotting around Thailand and surrounding countries before temping
in an ad agency which had come to a demise. All that back packing does
nothing for me, living out of back packs, living in cockroach ridden
hostels. Do they even sell bottled Evian, as I'm sure they have
constant cholera outbreaks in these sorts of countries. Samantha on the
other hand appeared to be more of the power hungry type I was used to
under the guise of being sickly sweet. I recognised the signs, though
she hadn't mentioned the word sweetie quite yet.

Onwards and upwards I continued to show them around the building in a
tour guide manner. I started with my favourite place - the coffee bar.
Every morning, one could help themselves to copious amounts of coffees
and cinnamon swirls. It was situated in the middle of the ground floor
as you entered the building. They ooo'd and ahhhhhed as such
exhilaration at a company's own bar, as I had been here for a while,
nothing like this really excited me anymore, I had become a cynic of
the corporate globe! Since they were so riveted about this discovery, I
suggested we get some coffees and sit at the bar, well, I'm sure they
don't want to be thrusted straight in to the driving seat of
labour.

'So, how do you like it so far?' I quipped
"It's fab" Kimberley squealed excitedly
Well, for Kimberley it probably was a tad exciting as in her travels
she probably didn't even have running water, let alone a cappuccino
machine.
"So any gorgeous co-workers residing here??" Samantha asked.
At that moment, Steve walked past. Steve maintains our website, and is
the most delectable creature in this company, every time I see him, my
heart starts galloping round the building like a thoroughbred
racehorse. He saw us sitting down and sauntered over, just as I managed
to pull the reins on myself and collect my composure.
"Hi Lucy, alright?"
"Oh, hi Steve, this is Kimberly and Samantha, they've just
started"
I noticed Samantha giving the object of my desire a winning smile and
decided from that moment on, I would keep them Very far apart.
"Well, I hope you get on alright, it's not all bad"
With that he beamed and ambled off to his office.
"Well" Samantha exclaimed clasping her hands together " I am in for
more treats by the second"
I laughed a delicate laugh. "Mmmh, know what you mean!!" There was no
way she was getting her Tiffany ringed hands on Steve, no bloody
way!!!
After our dosage of caffeine, I showed them a few other highlights,
such as the sick room, my favourite, especially when I felt a big
presentation coming on, and introduced them to a few other people, no
good-looking ones mind, I had sensed that Samantha was a bit of a
piranha.

I led them back into the haven of our office. Pheotus IT man boy came
up to set up their e-mail logins and other tedious technical apparatus.
Once they were all set up, I had to set about ordering them some new
stationary and whilst at it I decided to order very essential items for
myself such as a new rolodex, there were some delicious new electronic
ones with lots of surplus gadget things attached to it, after all I
needed one to put all the vital statistics of my social life in it,
being trapped at work all day, I needed to have all the details at hand
to arrange my weekends. Work was such an immense infringement on my
daily life, a treat was a mere compensation for my efforts.

Samantha then sidled over to my desk.
"Hiiiiiiiiii" she elongated her salutation, "Just wondered about my
expense account, I assume I will be getting one"
I couldn't believe the bare faced cheek, the girl had barely got her
toenail through the door and already she was demanding. Me, me, me,
want, want, want, want, that's all these moguls were interested
in.
"To be honest Samanthaaa" I over pronounced in a teacher like
manner.
"I wasn't actually aware of your arrival today, so I will have to speak
to Luke about that and get back to you".
"Oh right" she answered in a slightly peeved manner, " I am sure it was
discussed already, perhaps I could speak to someone else about
it?"
Fury suddenly injected in my stomach, if it was anyone else, they would
have accepted a reply given to a query, why was it that I was
questioned simply because I was a P.A.
"Well, if you need to find out, you can call Luke on his mobile, but he
is in Manchester at the moment conducting a very important business
meeting presently with some very key clients of ours discussing a
major
project that our magazine will be heavily involved in, between you and
me he was in a tyrant of a mood when he phoned and spoke to Alex this
morning, but since you are new, I'm sure he can take out a moment or
two to discuss your expense account"

Blank faced, Samantha then suddenly broke out in to one of those smiles
that are obviously false as their mouth moves mechanically as if being
operated by a piece of string at each corner, not unlike a
Thunderbird.
"It's ok Lucy, um, I'll just wait until he returns"
With that she meekly slipped back to her desk. Ha! I thought, that will
teach her, spoilt brats the lot of them, where every answer has to be
answered at least five minutes ago. Between you and me, I am normally
not so bold, but since she is a new cadet, the dormant power surge
crept up from my belly and felt the need to put her in place as I am
sure that not before long, I will be the recipient of her demanding
tongue.

Obviously I had lied through my pearly whites. True, Luke was in a
meeting per sa, but he was actually meeting up with some old well
connected chums who had also climbed the career ladder and all headed
up successful companies. It was all a tad incestuous, as they were all
going to do some sort of business deal to make them all come out
smelling of roses especially to their chief execs.

12:59 - 1:00 - That's it - lunch time has now begun , therefore I must
stop all means of work, after all it is a legal requirement I 'm sure,
unfortunately since our company was so into these "getting to know each
other lunches", they decided that our team should go out and welcome
the new ones to the "family", I booked us a table at All Bar One.
Kimberley suddenly appeared at my desk like an over excited child
clutching her patchwork satchel. "I'm ready" she quipped
excitedly.

The whole team gathered around the huge pine table, with the new
recruits centred in the middle. We all ordered drinks. Steve was good
friends with Alex and was at a loose end and came along, which I was
furious about as I would ordinarily be elated at having this divine
creature in my presence for an entire glorious hour, but since Samantha
was also in attendance, I was quite edgy as the very last thing I
wanted to do was lob them together so they could get to know each other
better, after all, Samantha was NOT unattractive with her long glossy
raven hair, preened to perfection and her complexion a golden hue,
though to be honest, it was obvious to me to be a permatan, if they
ever did get it on, I am sure he would soon be scared off by those fine
lines setting in after a session too often on the sunbed. Unfortunately
at the moment, she looked horribly good and I hated her.

Alex then decided that we should make a toast to the new
recruits.
"Gosh, thanks" Kimberly piped embarrassed at the attention though
Samantha was simply revelling in the attention.
"So, what were you doing before you joined us?" Alex asked
"I've actually just been temping for a while, I have been travelling
which was the most spiritual experience of my life, I have been
learning all about the cultural differences, I felt the need to escape
the stress and anxiety of my immediate surroundings and learn to live
in far away lands without any luxuries and I now feel I have come back
a better person, my aura fully cleansed and new and I now feel that I
can apply my worldly experiences in an environment of creativity" as
she was describing her pious journey, her hands were gesticulating
animatedly.

There were a few smans, but she happily chirped away, describing her
travel programme rendition of her "fabulous experiences"

She then shrugged her shoulders at the end of her monologue "That's it
really" Kimberley then slunk back down in her chair again to change the
spotlight to someone else, namely, Samantha who sat up ready to happily
takeover.

"Welll" began Samantha, ensuring that all eyes were transfixed on
her.
"I used to work for Dynamite" She then paused to allow for the
enervative impressive gasps

Dynamite was a new genre of media company where they provided a
picture bank of fantastic, cool pictures on the internet that companies
bought to put in their magazines such as a group of funky twenty
something clubbers in Ibiza to be put in a music mag or hip it girls
and guys dressed in funky clobber for a young lifestyle magazine, not
unlike ours.

"I have been on to that website and it's really cool" Oh God! Website
wonder Steve had something in common with Sultry Samantha, this was
positively awful. It could not positively be allowed, I nudged Hayley
under the table, Hayley knowing full well of my penchant, bit her
bottom lip in empathy for my obvious plight. I just knew that there
would I could allow to fancy the snobby cow.

Everybody then proceeded to break in to their own conversations, I
particularly noticed the private party that had formed between "those
two".

I turned around to Hayley.
"You see" I whispered loudly, "There is no hope now" I creased my
forehead in despair, Hayley put her shoulder sympathetically on my
shoulder.
"Steve is friendly to absolutely everyone, he is probably just trying
to make her feel welcome"
"I doubt it greatly, in a court of law, any denial on his part would be
greatly obvious"
"Don't be ridiculous" Hayley reprimanded. " I mean look at her" she
then dwindled, "We work on a magazine and she's wearing last years
Nicole Fahi for goodness sake"
Well, that was true I thought, but too be honest, combat and firetrap
wearing Steve, who bought all his clothes from trendy shops in Camden
and Portobello is hardly going to notice what had been thrown down a
catwalk in Milan by models who look like they had also thrown up
everything they had ever eaten.

When the insufferable outing had come to a demise, I had never felt so
willing to go back to the office. I thought that things couldn't get
any worse, but as we were walking back, Steve and Dan were talking
about some party happening at the weekend, since Samantha seemed to
think they were now great friends, she piped up " I can't wait for the
weekend, what do you guys do?" I hate those Americanisms, next it would
probably be "Gee whiz"
"I'm gonna be having an easy weekend this week, next weekend is the
biggie, I'm going to be at a Mixmag Party and I'm going to do a
set"
"Dj-ing?"
"Yeah, just for an hour or so"
"What music?"
"Mainly deep and funky house"
"How great, I love house"
Ok, it was now quite obvious that I had been sent in to the fiery pits
of hell. There was no way I could possibly allow that vixen's mitts to
be interfering with him, I had liked him forever!, ok, so nothing had
ever happened, but he did tell me once when we were all out in the pub
after work on a Friday night when I told him how much I wished I had
blue eyes and he said that it didn't matter about the colour, but the
life and light in them, ok, he didn't comment on my eyes personally and
ok was a bit stoned, but I do think that it was an indirect approach,
maybe I should have pounced and gone for the kill, but there was that
tiniest, insignificant possibility that it wasn't aimed at my own
sparkling retinas. Still, all was not yet lost, battles and wars and
all that.
"You didn't tell me about this Steve, well done" I gushed
"Oh it's not a biggie" He appeared to be shy, how endearing, I was in
love.
"I've never heard you mix before" Feeding the ego was always a great
tactical skill, particularly on the male of species.
I noticed the arched eyebrow raised on Hayley's face out of the corner
of my eye, she knew as well as I did, that we were both completely
unaware of his Brandon Block aspirations, as it would have added to my
long list of fabulous points about him that I was constantly comotosing
Hayley with. Going out with a DJ, how great is that!
"Well, come along as well, you too Hayley, I'm sure we can swing some
more guest list places"
"Cool" though I was anything but, I felt my temperature soaring as my
serotonin swished around in my brain. I had never been in a club with
Steve, it would be like finally getting in there with the boy you
fancied at the school disco.
"You'll come, won't you Hayley" my eyebrows practically half circles at
the top of my forehead silently begging for her to say yes.
"Um, yeah, sure"
She then whispered " You owe me one"
"Of course shweetee" I linked her arm with mine and air kissed her
cheek, ok, some little advertising quarks had rubbed of on me.

The rest of the week and the following one were going to be an assembly
of various tasks to try and get a good foundation set for the "Steve
project" as I wanted to ensure, that by Saturday, we would be such
GREAT friends and frankly, any surplus time he had after his dj-ing
set, would be spent with yours truly!! I am sure that Samantha has no
knowledge of dance music whatsoever and unless she spends the next few
days burying her head in the dance section in HMV - she is not going to
learn anymore!!

All of Tuesday, my "project" was no where to be seen, this was not a
good start at all. How could I advance on this situation with the
actual apparatus absent. At 4pm I got an instant message flashing on my
screen from Hayley "Project has been captured by enemy" I immediately
raced over to her desk.
"Where's the fire?" Alex quipped.
"It is coming out of my ears Alex"
A look of confusion crossed his face, but there was no way I was going
to divulge any further information at this time to him, I may need him
at a later date for probing questions, but would be far too embarrassed
to do so in a sober state - I do have to face this people every day
after all.
"Tell me!" I blinked my eyes , keeping them closed for a second and
taking a deep breathe to prepare for the news from the
battlefield.
"I just saw Project and Piranha (their new aliases) in the caf?, now I
don't know if it was a business meeting as there were notebooks and
worky type instruments there, but I thought I would tell you, obviously
since you don't want them to be together too much"
"Maybe they are having a meeting" I said optimistically, then suddenly
a thought occurred to me. I stroked my chin pensively and stared in
concentration at the floor in a manner of Poirot who has finally
discovered who killed Miss Greenapple on The Orient Express.

"Samantha knows full well, that all meetings are booked through me and
I book the meeting rooms as I am the only one with access to the
system. This can only mean, that she is trying to get time alone with
him with me not knowing, the sly little minx, this simply cannot be
allowed, HAYYYLEEEEEY, what am I going to do???"

"Maybe, we should go to the caf? and get ourselves a cappuccino and see
for ourselves"
"Fabulous idea!"

With almighty gusto, I charged downstairs into the bar with my partner
in crime, to find clues to what their little tete a tete was all about.
As we approached the bar, I saw them, thick as thieves at a corner
table. My heart fell straight into my boots as I dragged them to the
counter.
"Well, all they need now is a vase with a rose, candlelight and a
violinist serenading them"
"Are you going to say anything?"
" I don't know!" I sulked, slumping my shoulders in despair
We ordered two skinny caps and then suddenly a lightbulb flashed above
my head for a reason to interrupt
their conversation.
"Hi theeeeeere" I gushed overcompensating for my distress.
"Samantha, you do know that you can book meetings through me and I can
organise a conference room for you"
"Oh thanks Lucy, you are a darling, but we wanted to make it less
formal, anyway, I would feel far to overdressed to be in a meeting
room, not in these old things"
Immediately my eyes dropped to see what she was adorning and whatever
it was, it looked suspiciously designer and tailored, the evil hag was
obviously trying to draw our attention to this very point. I was
silently wishing simultaneously for Steve to speak to me, otherwise
this entire journey would appear to be completely unnecessary if he
doesn't even care that I am there.
"You alright Lucy?"
Suddenly my professional poise faltered and I became an image of demure
lust.
"Fine thanks, haven't seen you around for ages, how is the dj practice
coming along, ready for Saturday?"
Tendrils of hair had suddenly appeared in my fingers as I twisted them
nervously.
"Well, I have picked out the tunes I am going to play and probably will
have a run through tonight"
"I'm sure you will be fine" , more ego stroking
"Make sure you let me know all the deets for Saturday then, don't want
to miss your debut"
"Yeah, definitely, I'll come by and give you all the info"
"Fabulous"
My work is done here I thought smugly and gave them both beaming
smiles, giving each individual a completely different meaning to it.
He's coming by my desk, surely that's a good sign, but couldn't be
sure. As soon as we were out of earshot, I immediately turned to Hayley
for her thoughts.
"So, what did you make of that then?"
"Mmmh, not sure, Steve seemed to be acting normally enough"
"True, but he doesn't even know that I like him, he doesn't have any
reason to be acting differently, it's that leach that concerns me, she
is obviously trying to sink her claws into him, there is no doubt in my
mind about that"
"Well, nothing has happened yet Luce"
"If I have anything to do with it, nothing ever will"

Later on in the afternoon I was sitting at my desk doing bits of brain
numbing work, in other words, my job when I felt a tap on my shoulder,
I whisked around to find that it was in actual fact, my beloved
Steve.
"Hiya" I chirped thinking simultaneously, I bet I look bloody awful, I
had no time to retouch my makeup and probably looked like I had been
maimed by the document shredder.
"Hi Lucy, just thought I would come and give you the details for next
Saturday"
"Oh fabulous, yeah"
We talked for a few minutes, me giggling and trying to be as flirty and
amusing as I could whilst throwing in a demure look or two. Nothing he
said was enough to hire out a wedding planner just yet, but it was
clear to me that he obviously wanted me to go which I was most
enraptured about nonetheless.
"So, is Samantha still going?"
"Yeah I think she is"
My stomach churned at this prospect.
"Oh, um, cool, Hayley is coming too"
"Great, the more the merrier"
THE MORE THE MERRIER?? Am I simply making up the numbers I thought in
fury and dejection. Maybe he doesn't want to seem to keen at work, you
know, with gossiping and suchlike but at the moment I was starting
wonder if I was wasting my time altogether, but then I thought to
myself, I love a challenge, working here is a challenge, even waking up
in the morning is a challenge and frankly, if Samantha thinks that she
is going to defeat me, well she has another thing coming, so Samantha -
watch out, because I am going to be hot on those Jimmy Choo heels of
yours! And with that, I set about my daily afternoon task of answering
all my personal e-mails.

As usual, Monday morning soon came around faster than a car chase scene
in a cheesy Hollywood B Movie. Sometimes I find myself having to pause
and reflect thinking "Excuse me, but doesn't the weekend usually come
after Friday, as it often feels that it completely surpasses me
altogether"

Back to the grind - honestly, the equivalent to this job a hundred
years ago would be working in a cotton factory or something. One thing
is for sure, the job may have changed, but they have certainly not
changed the criteria for the bosses, they must either be descendants of
these hard nosed workers or have reincarnated into ones that wore Gucci
suits.

Like every pair of Manalo Blahnik mules, everyone has to have one - an
office bitch. Every satanic boss has his or her Lucifer and our Jackal
was in the form of Miranda. On first appearance, Miranda is a vision of
"Little Miss Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth", but on closer
inspection, she was the vendor of battery acid, swilling around on her
sharp tongue, lashing out on innocent victims like a serpent in its
lair.

Senior Media/ Planner was her official title, but this vital point
completely escaped he vision. On signing her employment contract, her
hallucinogenic instruments of vision surpassed this information and she
was under the illusion of being on par with the CEO without the full
whack expense account.

Her very presence ensued that of a military aura. Her fiery mass of red
hair was like an erupting volcano and more often than not, was in
possession of a similar temperament.

Currently without a P.A, due to dishing out that infamous bit of paper
with P45 stamped across it, hence, she
had now decided that I was going to be Santa's Little Helper, which
infuriated me greatly. P.A was my title meaning "Personal Assistant",
and not "Please Ask". In one fell swoop , she had single handily
demoted me to team secretary and adding to my already emergent pile of
work. Everyone was terrified of this tyrannical beast - myself
included.

Miranda stood in the middle of the office and bellowed:
"Team meeting, team meeting"

Her voice boomed through the air with an added affect of a somewhat
built in tannoy in her vocal chords.
She then spun around and spat out the words.
"Don't forget your notebook Lucy, I know note-taking is NOT your forte,
but try and attempt a vague account of the subject matter in
discussion. To be quite honest, I can never recall her asking me to
take notes, I've only been her acting P.A for two minutes. Honestly,
why do bosses only ever point out the bad things, I am more than sure
that if I ever did something well, that would be a secret, if it got
out, Heaven's above THAT could mean a promotion and we wouldn't want
that would we!!.

I then envisioned toothpicks gauging out her beady eyes, yet smiled
serenely. Everyone then proceeded to march into the boardroom in the
manner of a practice fire drill procedure.

Once everyone was seated around the boardroom table, the size of the
last supper's, Miranda clasped her hands together, her ruby red talons
sparkling dangerously.

"Right, nice to see you all present today. First on the agenda: I
attended the opening of the new store "Spectacular" last night. They
will be a new account of ours of below-the-line advertising. Though the
canap?s were crap and the cheap plonk hideous, they are obviously most
grateful for our services rendered, their large fees will be most
satisfactory for our company kitty.

Her mane then swished accusingly in my direction.

"Lucy, I do now believe it is your cue to push your pen on some
paper"
Does killing your boss warrant a strong prison sentence I thought,
surely it would be thrown out of court in as self defence against her
malevolent temper.

I nervously clutched my biro, poised for the setting off of my writing
sprint, well at least I will get thinner fingers.

"Note" she orally bullet pointed, "If I do not get my discount card for
the Bourgeois Pr?t a Porter shop in Knightsbridge, they will soon find
themselves having to use their advertising inserts in Women's Weekly,
it's been at least two months and now practically all the season is
sold out, they only have three of any garment, it's a very sought after
store"

Everyone sank in their swiveley chairs like startled mice.

"Riggggggght, lets see what you little people have managed to
regurgitate for the magazine this month. We'll go around the table, oh
and don't forget, target time is looming which means bonus or
bonus-less, and the wrath of my temper AND Luke's"

Here we go again, placing herself on the same hierarchy with Luke
Crowley again, not that I liked him either, but at least he had a
reason to be constantly irate, he was the boss, it was part of his
job.

Her eyes zoomed around like a CCT camera and stopped at Sylvia, a thin
high cheek boned, pony tailed, twenty something that socialised on The
King's Road. Sylvia was Miranda's muse and prot?g?e, but of course,
only if Miranda is dead or even worse, promoted. Sylvia was the lucky
winner of knowing that she will always have her head firmly in tact
above her sunken in shoulders. She shuffled her notes and twitched her
upturned nose in snobbery.

All eyes switched to her spotlight.

"Yup, new feature on champagne - it's the new water, bubbly, low cal,
fab for the visage. Images of lots of salubrious gals clasping tall
flutes in long French manicured nails"

A small smile crept over Miranda's normally pursed lips.

"What's the brand?"

"Decadence"

At that moment, Rik, the token, gay and camp bloke of the office
started choking.
"OMIGOD, my windpipe is blocked"
Sylvia looked at Rik with daggers for spoiling her moment as she was
hoping that more praise would be piled on to her as she knew how much
Miranda liked her, obviously seeing herself in Sylvia as a younger
version of the toffee nosed cow.

I started banging Rik on the back, not sure if it was doing anything at
all to alleviate his discomfort.
"It's ok" he held his hands up in the air, regaining his composure. "I
think I survived it"
Rik was such a drama queen, but he made the office, a much more
enjoyable place to work and was the only person who was not completely
terrified of the She Devil who sat before us. Miranda's bitchiness was
on par if not slightly lower than our beloved Rik who I must say, was
always quite protective of me. I have always had a strong affinity with
the campers of the office, maybe I am really a gay man trapped in a
woman's body?!

Miranda was furious as Rik always seemed to bring attention to himself,
but I don't think it was ever on purpose, it was just the way he
was.

"Have we now quite finished our little scene now?" Miranda questioned
with an arched eyebrow.
"I'm terribly sorry for nearly dying in your meeting Miranda" Rik hit
back in a mock hurtful expression.
"It must have been that chicken bone that found its way down my
oesophagus last night, came back to finish me off"
"Rik, I am sick and tired of your constant outbursts which I am sure
you are perfectly able to control"
"Miranda, you really are quite aggressive at times, I'm not sure what
your problem is, but I'm sure it's hard to pronounce"
"ANYWAY" Miranda boomed "MOVING ON"

Miranda continued her oral dissection of everyone's ideas and plans,
half the time I was convinced that she was not even listening to anyone
and as soon as she realised that the person had stopped talking, she
suddenly filled the gap with some form of sarcastic comment or
abuse.

After the unpleasant weekly meeting came to a demise we all raced out
like a bunch of sheep running in all directions as if our pen door had
just been opened for the first time in a month. I went back to my desk
to find lots of yummy e-mails to reply to and just as I set about in
replying to my "real work" I was interrupted by Miranda bellowing
through my phone on loudspeaker.
"LUCY, HAVE U GOT A MO?"
"Coming"
Feeling like I had swallowed a pound of led, I made my way to her
office. I walked in timidly as I knew she was going to ask me to do
something for her and I knew that the vicious creature would find some
flaw in it. I already had Mr Megalomaniac Luke Crowley to deal with her
and now had Miss Megalomaniac as well.

"Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, I need to send the agency a job spec for a
new P.A - I have written it out, so if you type it out, give it back to
me to check and then you can fax it to the agency"
Miranda handed me the notes and then turned to her computer and began
typing furiously. Well, I thought to myself, I am obviously dismissed.
Rude cow!!

I sat staring at the job spec in front of me and as I typed it out, I
decided to add my own comments in under each of the attributes the job
required.

? Join our fast paced team

Meaning: No time for any training

? Eye for detail required

No quality control available

? Duties will vary

Anyone can boss you around.

? Some overtime required

All Evenings and weekends

? Good communication skills

The management communicates, you listen and figure out what they are
saying.

? Work on your own initiative

Engage in lots of work off your own back and neither be paid for it or
hope to receive a promotion.

I e-mailed the job spec to Hayley and within minutes I could hear her
cackling in the distance.

I then saw that little yellow envelope flashing in the corner of my
screen and clicked on it excitedly. It was just as much fun as
receiving real mail through the post.

Hayley: I like!
Lucy: Thanks, if only I knew then what I know now
Hayley: If that was the case, we would be eternal students
Lucy: Oh that is so true my fellow co-worker slave

After doing my work with in-between chats with Hayley, I suddenly got a
flash on my screen with an e-mail from Miranda.

Miranda: Are you finished yet? Also, could you grab me a coffee from
the machine!
"And would you like fries with that" I mumbled under my breath
Lucy: Yes, will bring over, sorry, got an urgent call from Luke!

The fact was, I was lying about Luke, but he might have called.
Honestly, I am not her P.A, so why should her work take priority.
Anyway, it always seemed like the tables were turned when it comes to
big shot worker and slave worker. When the boss takes a long time to do
anything, SHE/ HE is busy, WE are slow. If WE haven't done the work in
time, WE are lazy, HE/SHE is busy. When BIG SHOT boss is out the
office, SHE is on business, WE are wondering aimlessly. Honestly double
standards everywhere I turn.

Half an hour later it was ready to be faxed, after the font was
changed, bullet points added and deleted. The title to the left of the
page and then centred, bolded, unbolded, sub text changed to italics.
Honestly, the entire process was one big bore. I felt by this stage, it
was so artistically perfected I should be sending it into Tony Hart for
his end of programme gallery on Heartbeat.

Bad news seems to travel fast whatever the situation and the fact that
I was suddenly Miranda's P.A was no exception. At least ten people kept
coming over to my desk with a variety of documents and memos and other
boring clusters of papers to be signed for Her Royal Bitchness! As by
this point I had actually received a few calls from Luke with some
homework for me! By the time the tenth person materialised I was
getting extremely perturbed. A tall skinny bloke came over with a bunch
of invoices for Miranda to sign.
"Just put them in my inbox there would you" I motioned with my head to
my left.
"But, um, isn't that your bin?"
"Oh yes, so it is" I remarked sarcastically and plucked them from his
hand
"Um, thanks"
After I had terrified the poor boy, he scuttled off quick as a shot
obviously thinking me insane. I decided that I was going to plant a
hedge around my desk to avoid these constant elves working for Miranda
speeding around like headless chickens on battery acid.

Honestly, this day was proving to be Nightmare on Goodge Street , I am
so stressed that I simply must start thinking about booking myself a
couple of Botox injections, with all this worry, my face is going to
start resembling that of a line graph chart.

At least I had the wondrous Steve to save my sanity, even though my
thoughts were slightly marred by the evil new co-worker, challenging me
to somewhat of a dual.

Friday afternoon, I had somewhat of a lightness to my step, also due to
the manic regimental nightly outings to the gym, but today was the day
before the best day of my life. Steve will be mine, he has to be. If
Samantha even slightly gets her talons on him, I will never live it
down and will be forced to leave the company, maybe even the
country.

I dragged Hayley out with me at lunchtime to chose my killer outfit,
though this time, we did avoid the shop with scary shop assistant who
I'm sure was just dying to ram a clothes hanger into the back of my
head.

"What look shall I go for ?, pretty and demure? A vixen bond girl? A
Hollywood starlet?"
"I think just sexy and trendy would be the best option, I don't think
turning up like Ursula Andress in a bikini and snorkel is really going
to get the man of your dreams"
"You're right of course, but I have to stand out from Miss Manicured
Octopus Fingers"
"I am sure you will anyway Hun, you are a thousand times better than
her"
"Thanks Hayley, you're such a star"

Having an ally in the office was of most importance and a complete
saving grace, at least she didn't have that, and she couldn't possibly
stretch her falseness to pretending to make a friend on top of her main
priority of making my emotional life a misery. There just weren't
enough hours in the day.

The rest of the afternoon , I was busier than a bee on pollen. By
5.30pm, I had booked an appointment to have my hair blow-dried into a
sheet of silk, I was getting my nails done, having a seaweed body wrap,
a facial and an all over St Tropez treatment. If I couldn't ensconce
him with all of these beauty treatments as I am sure that with all that
I will be looking fab then I will never be able to get him. Also, this
entire shebang was costing me a small fortune and on top of that, I had
to pay a deposit, how ridiculous, but he was worth it and I was looking
forward to the whole affair with bells on it.

At 5.55pm, I suddenly got a small flashing envelope appearing on my
screen and to my utter excitement, it was from Steve, what a glorious
way to finish the day.

Steve: Hi Lucy, just to let you know, that the night has been
cancelled, loads of techy problems apparently
and the whole thing has gone AWOL, but all is not lost, I think I
might be doing a private birthday bash
in Brighton instead, sorry about that, but I'm sure you have got lots
of plans anyway - Have a good
one!

I -DO-NOT-BELIEVE-IT! I shrieked - lots of plans?! I have an entire day
full of plans to beautify myself for you! An entire day of being
prodded and preened for what -to look good for the cinema usher, as
that was the alternative offer I had had to the party. Having manicured
nails to accept the tub of popcorn from the stripy bloke behind the
counter and having glorious blow-dried hair to sit in the dark?! This
can't be happening. I refuse to believe it.

Immediately I called him on his extension, but tried to calm my
flustered self. Obviously the person who invented the phrase "COOL,
CALM AND COLLECTED" had obviously been through the same situation. I
wonder if they have written a self-help book or something, maybe I will
see if I can buy one after I have had my skin peeled away during my
body wrap.

"Hi Steve, I just got your e-mail, so, um, is there no chance it's
going to be back on again, um, just so I know what I'm doing"
"Hi Luce, yeah, I'm really sorry about that, it's a bugger isn't it,
but I'm sure you will have plenty of other things to do, I know that
you're a bit of a social butterfly"
"Oh, well, you know me, I do live for the weekend"
Oh dear, positive - he thought I was an outgoing kind of gal - negative
- he would think that there would be no reason to think that I would be
left high and dry at the weekend after that.
"So, what do you think you're going to do then?"
"Well, the promoter for this gig called me and asked me to do a small
private party in Brighton, so all is not lost"
"It's a shame though, I really wanted to see your set"
INVITE ME, INVITE ME , INVITE ME.
"I know, I'm sorry about that, well, these things happen, wish me luck
for Saturday then"
"Um, yeah good luck"
"Thanks Luce, see ya Monday"
"Um, yeah"

I put down the phone, banged my head against the desk and then
proceeded to look through Time Outs Cinema listings.