My company is possibly doing a share float in the medium-term. So management is looking at ways to make the company more attractive to investors. This has led to all sorts of wild rumours being spread by employees. But I knew that management knows what it's doing when I heard the latest: banning casual Friday. As a sensible investor, I know I have no faith in a company if I hear the employees wear tan slacks on Fridays.
Speaking of work, I'm going to learn hypnosis. Then after a week of absenteeism, I'll arrive at the office at 2:30 on Friday afternoon and ask everyone to join me for a meeting so I can explain why I've been away. When I've got everyone there, I'll hypnotise them all into believing I've been there all week. Then I'll finish with a hypnotic suggestion that after such a tough week of work, we deserve a break. I'll snap everybody out of it, then we can all head to the pub.
(Don't borrow this technique - I'm not yet sure what the implications will be at performance review time).
Tens of thousands marched this week in protest of the Howard government's new IR laws, but the IR minister Kevin Andrews is claiming the marchers were irrelevant because 98% of workers didn't march. What difference has attendance ever made to the Howard government? One million Australians marched in protest of the invasion of Iraq - and Australia participated anyway. (But hey, we got a nice juicy free trade deal with the US for our troubles - no, wait! The government's now saying that's under threat if we don't accept the new IR laws! They just keep moving the carrot a little further away...)
This morning I saw that Lucas Neill will be appearing on Sunrise on Monday. I was so excited I had to fan myself and send Xander for the smelling salts. My first instinct was to think "I have to be there!" (Being faithful, and 27 years old besides, be damned - I wanna be a screaming, panty-throwing groupie!) But I worked out that to get to Sydney by 7am I'd have to leave Newcastle at 4am - the new timetable means it takes longer to get to Sydney by train now than in the steam-engine 1930s. Oh well. I'll go see him at the ticker-tape parade - and if it's warm enough, I'm gonna flash my...bra.
I often say, there's no situation I can't lend my special brand of incompetence to. But I'm getting tired of just screwing up my own life. I'm considering starting another blog, where readers can send me their problems and I'll dispense "What would a pissed woman in her late 20s do?" wisdom. If you have any questions you'd like me to practice on, please leave them in the comments. If you actually take my advice, I promise to be impressed.