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Feb. 5th, 2007
OMFG, Part Deux.
Feb. 5th, 2007 01:32 pmWork Life.
I work with a woman I'll call Denise, because that's her name. I've been so busy not posting, I'd almost forgotten to post this. It happened a month or so ago.
Denise is 33. She acts like she's 13. My other co-workers and I have come to the conclusion she's a Munchausen. She's always trying to bunk off early for some medical reason or another, and she gets quite upset when she's not allowed to leave early without penalty. One day, she walked over to my desk with a blanket round her waist and asked me if I'd check the back of her trousers for a spot. No big, since if my decorators had left a spot on the back of my trousers, I'd want a mate to discreetly point it out so I could take care of it. I said I sympathised with her, but not to worry, she was clear.
Turns out she'd pissed herself.
I asked her why she didn't go home and change. She said Brian (our supervisor) wouldn't let her. Whatevs.
A couple hours later, she asked me if I had any spare clothes she could borrow (WTF?!) since she'd had another accident at lunch whilst vomiting in the carpark.
She sat at her desk, in pissy trousers, all bloody day. She even thought it necessary to show me the ginormous wet spot covering half-way down her legs. Did I mention this woman is 33?
I work with a woman I'll call Denise, because that's her name. I've been so busy not posting, I'd almost forgotten to post this. It happened a month or so ago.
Denise is 33. She acts like she's 13. My other co-workers and I have come to the conclusion she's a Munchausen. She's always trying to bunk off early for some medical reason or another, and she gets quite upset when she's not allowed to leave early without penalty. One day, she walked over to my desk with a blanket round her waist and asked me if I'd check the back of her trousers for a spot. No big, since if my decorators had left a spot on the back of my trousers, I'd want a mate to discreetly point it out so I could take care of it. I said I sympathised with her, but not to worry, she was clear.
Turns out she'd pissed herself.
I asked her why she didn't go home and change. She said Brian (our supervisor) wouldn't let her. Whatevs.
A couple hours later, she asked me if I had any spare clothes she could borrow (WTF?!) since she'd had another accident at lunch whilst vomiting in the carpark.
She sat at her desk, in pissy trousers, all bloody day. She even thought it necessary to show me the ginormous wet spot covering half-way down her legs. Did I mention this woman is 33?
About City of London.
Feb. 5th, 2007 11:13 pmThere's stuff you should know about City of London. This has been bothering me off and on from the beginning.
I have taken artistic licence in a few areas, such as what the lockers look like and what the exact curriculum is. Also, Sixth Formers are not required to wear uniforms, but for my story, I liked the idea of hot schoolboys leading each other round by the necktie. Heh.
I was hoping when I started this that my fellow Londoners wouldn't be too nitpicky about the little things, because after all, this is fiction.
That's all.
I have taken artistic licence in a few areas, such as what the lockers look like and what the exact curriculum is. Also, Sixth Formers are not required to wear uniforms, but for my story, I liked the idea of hot schoolboys leading each other round by the necktie. Heh.
I was hoping when I started this that my fellow Londoners wouldn't be too nitpicky about the little things, because after all, this is fiction.
That's all.
