I work in a fairly large corporation, one that provides us with a staff canteen stocked with daily helpings of food (thanks to an age-old Enterprise Bargaining Agreement that fucks us over in other areas, naturally). There’s hot soup at the ready, and a Bain-Marie stocked with all of the trappings for a pretty decent sandwich, including a constant supply of diarrhea taunting Jalapenos for some reason.
Look, the actual food is not really any of your concern, but I found the conversations I got into this week in the canteen would fill a semi-readable blog post. As usual, if you’re expecting something intelligent to follow, you’re on the wrong blog.
1. Crimes and Misdemeanors
Chewing my way through a Peanut Butter Sanga one lunch break, I got into some banter regarding the dire situation of Channel 10. The general gist (and far smarter people have written on this topic if you want to seek out the information), is that Channel 10 have always geared their product towards the younger generation through Populist programming in a bid to compete with the far stronger Channel 9 and Channel 7 (these are all Aussie TV channels by the way, if you’re wondering what the fuck I’m on about). This means a lot of “Exclusive” shows “direct” from the US of A – a move that worked gangbusters in the 90’s, not so much now in the modern era when kids are downloading shit long before it makes our airwaves. Which means Channel 10 are paying a fortune for shows nobody is watching, a move that is fucking them financially and forcing them into voluntary administration.
“Eh, Channel 10 hasn’t been the same since Fat Cat left.” – this was my smart-ass contribution to the conversation, which I delivered through a spray of peanut coated breadcrumbs. Fat Cat was this giant mute cat who had some dopey kid’s show way back when, but I mostly remembered him as the guy who told me when the fuck to go to bed every night at 7:30pm. He left Channel 10 in 1987.
The general banter then turned to other animal hosts of our childhood such as Humphrey B Bear and Winky Dink.
Somebody at our table then chimed in that they vaguely remembered one of these characters being involved in a legal drama. Which one? Well Google soon let us know that they all had.
Humphrey assaulted the Vice-Principal of his daughter’s school, Winky Dink was done for drink-driving (blood alcohol of 0.12) and Fat Cat kept his nose pretty clean…but Fat Cat’s son (the offspring of Fat Cat and a brothel owner who died of a heroin overdose, no less) got involved in a siege with the cops after a meth binge. To think I used to look up to these fucking lunatics.
2. Mistaken Identity
My workmate Dave saw our workmate Rob’s jacket hanging on a coat-rack and decided to play a prank on him by leaving a note in the pocket saying:
“WORD AROUND THE OFFICE IS THAT YOU HAVE A FAT COCK.”
What did Rob make of the joke? Well, nothing. Turns out it wasn’t Rob’s jacket.
The jacket has not been seen since, and like I said it’s a big corporation. To this day we have no idea who received the message.
3. New ideas are a dying breed.
Over coffee and Jalapenos, our workmate Dave (yeah, same one) pointed us towards a headline of interest:
We suggested sending over our Graphic Designer Todd (a shy type who was not overly impressed with becoming the “star” of the conversation), and that he should dress as a Giant Lizard named Toddzilla, and bang ladies on a bed made out of model buildings. This is when I thought I had my defining work moment of the week – I suggested Toddzilla would have to come up against his arch nemesis, a Transgender Porn-star who had grown to giant size due to Atomic radiation. Her name?
Coffee Mugs were raised at my superb word-skills and ingenuity, until Todd himself revealed via Google that somebody had already thought of that name before. In fact, it was the name of a song.
I trudged back to the office dejected, and fearful that there was nothing left in this universe somebody else hadn’t already dreamt up.
4. But seriously, fuck my ideas
On a final note – a few days ago the Canteen fridge had a whole shelf of Banana flavoured milk. Why? Who knows, it doesn’t matter – we hoed into it. Out of boredom more than desire, I don’t think a single one of my workmates would actually purchase Banana milk from a store. I had a flash of inspiration and decided to put two shots of Espresso into a carton via the coffee machine. I told all and sundry about my intentions, and they waited with baited breath as I tried my sugary concoction.
Had I mixed together some form of Star Bucks level sweetened coffee delight? Nope. Tasted like Gorilla shit.
Oh well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.