Office Junk

Wow, it's been awhile since I last posted. How are you, World???

I'm not in the habit of reading what I've written, so from memory, the last we have of Wahbert is her flight down some mighty mine shaft to drill oil in the polar ice caps. Would have been nice to say that Wahbert finally made her way to the light at the end of the tunnel and life awashes her in fresh air and dewy sunshine, but that belongs in another blog, na? Well then? Latest from Wahbert: still drilling and boring away in the deep bowels of the earth, although considering the geographical location and the urban planning of this little hell hole, there apparently isn't really much room left underground. Say hello to Hong Kong.

I've been meaning to blog this ever since I received the employees' handbook by courier. This should touch a special chord with those of you out there who, like myself, have a desk that resembles nothing so much as a bureaucratic volcano that in a fit of hiccough, spewed paper. And there it was, in neat double-spaced typeset font, snuggled right between "DRESS CODE" and "MEDICAL" on page 35, appeared the two sinister little words... "OFFICE JUNK". Stark, unembellished, uncompromising. Wahbert's heart caught, but she read on.

"The ballot for the office junk Ottery will be held every Friday at 3 p.m."

Two separate thoughts vied for pre-eminence at this moment in Wahbert's mind. (One) The bastards are going to confiscate my stuff and lottery it off every Friday afternoon??? Motherfu%#*&$.. (Two) Something is bothering me about the typing.. followed quickly by another (purely by habit of profession) thought we shall label: (Three) Junk by whOSE definition??????

Again, let me welcome you to Hong Kong, where law firms and random wealthy people have little fibreglass cruiseliners marooned in the harbour, quaintly known as "junks" in the true Chinese tradition. Ours' called "Ottery".

Damn.