Incredibly, this story I am writing is post number 149 which means over the last year I’ve probably written around 75,000 words here. That combined with the other writing on sites and blogs I do probably amounts to around 120,00 words – no mean feat when you look at it. But it’s my no means been a difficult challenge, it’s been a total blast and has helped me get to grips with more than just how to click ‘publish’.

So back to where it all began. Facing a particularly difficult situation; no job come January, a Christmas without my daughter and and the end of my work contract wind down, the months appeared before me like an abyss. It was hard not to feel alienated and a social outcast. Even if I wasn’t one, I felt it. It was no suprise I succumbed to an awful attack of the flu. That Friday, the fever was so bad that I was unable to leave the house for three days, and fortunately Miniminx was away for the weekend.

With no choice but to live online while snivelling and bedridden, I just about managed to survive on what was in the house, ordered some online supplies and kept writing. Just a blog post each day, but it was something.

At the end of day three with the tissue box empty and the lemsip packets crumpled, there was a knock on the door and a groaning ghostlike-heap greeted the delivery man. Yes, it was me, and it was at that point I had a revelation.

Nothing was going to be the same again – I’d found a new tool for survival and wasn’t going to give it up.

Blogging might be easy, but getting started is the hardest part. I determined to say anonymous. And by blog name summed up the sense of futility at that time. My high hopes had been nixed and my minxy life crushed. Clown that I am, I set about writing with humour not despair, it took me a while to get it right and it certainly lifted the dark clouds and put the light back behind my eyes.

There is something really unnerving about putting a story out there in this new cyber world they call ‘the cloud’. I imagined my blog posts would be like raindrops falling from this cloud and evaporate before even hitting the ground and, in reality, no one would ever read it.

But they did and hey ho, I got a visitor or two, and thought

‘Oh my god, I wrote a blog post and someone bloody ready it – shit!’

….and then I got a comment, and thought

‘Um, so what happens next? This is quite scary. Who are these people, they have funny bloggy names.’

I had a look around and found other bloggers. Mummies. With beautiful blogs, stickered with awards. I had discovered the Mumosphere, or rather, it has discovered me.

‘Ahem.’ I thought. ‘Well goodness me. I see I’m not alone here.’

I replied to comments, it was like making invisible friends with lovely people. It was a miracle. I was no longer alone at my laptop.

‘Wow. Wahaaay.’

I had a new job.

I had become the accidental Mummy blogger.

Take the time Miniminx had a school trip to the beach. With bucket and spade, wearing her very cute stetsun sunhat, carrying a bag with a swimming costume and all the associated beach paraphernalia, we walked to school. She actually skipped and sang ‘The sun had got his hat on.’ all the way. Lovely.

We arrived a bit early and bumped into the head master.

‘Good morning’ big cheesey grins all round.
‘Hello’
‘Do you know where the coach is?’
‘Ummmm, coach? What coach…?’
‘For the trip today, the one for year 3.’
‘Ooooh, the trip.’ at this point I knew something was up
‘It’s next week’ Shit, shit, shit, what an idiot.

I covered my mouth with my hand and feigned coughing as a foil to the hysterical laughter I needed to quell. Two big blue eyes look up at me, one very cute mouth pouts and trembles. Cue big blobby sobs from Miniminx. Cue me cringeing all day at work. Two years later we can laugh about it together (I still laugh about it alone…what a meannie).

And then last month, we got back from Ibiza at midnight with Elizabethan Dress up Day at school in the morning. I got up early and made a paper ruff and dressed Miniminx in her garb. We got to school a few minutes late and had a peek into her classroom.
28 kids in white shirts and grey skirts sat on the carpet looking at the teacher.
Oh bugger….Miniminx gave me a silent howl and cue big blobby sobs.
Double bugger.

‘Ssssssh, they’ll hear you, let’s sneak out and get you home and changed.’

We ran home, I rang the school.

‘There’s no dress up day today, nothing in the diary sorry’

Confounded, I got her back into her uniform and then we hightailed it back to school. We got to the classroom and discovered that it actually was dress up day and the kids were getting changed after lunch. We had that instant Mother-daughter telepathy, locked eyes and shook our heads – the uniform was staying on for the rest of the day! I walked home for a medicinal coffee or four after two hours of behaving like a headless chicken – at least I didn’t have a job to go to.

And now, I’m back in the world of work. It’s a change and days are much more regimented. I woke up this morning to the alarm and got up after another cheeky few minutes sleep. I woke up little sleepyhead Miniminx and started the usual prework pick and pack malarky – lunch box, healthy snack, drinks, swim kit etc. Then I checked the time on my phone – surely it was nearing 8am. It was 6.20am. An extra 100 minutes were a bonus, so I decided (yes, very Doris Day of me) to do some baking. Raspberry and blackberry wheatfree muffins for breakfast and some flapjack for the lunchbox.
I even took a packed lunch to work for myself.
I even managed to get Miniminx in the bath and hairwashed BEFORE school.
With everything shipshape and ahoy, I booked a cab and we were out the door heading to school and Miniminx was ready to rock and roll at breakfast club.

We walked across the sunny playground, we smiled, we chatted. Miniminx waved at her friend. She stopped walking and looked at her friend again who was looking over at us curiously. Then she looked down. And so did I.

The horror.
FLIP FLOPS!!!
FOUR FLIPPING FLIP FLOPS!!!!

We had both forgotten to put shoes on.

Miniminx became hysterical. I mean big sobbing blobs of tears all over my new dress, she was mortified.

‘I’m – wear – ing – flip -flops ! MUMMMMMMMMMMMM’
‘Whoopsy daisy, how did that happen?’
‘I CAN’T GO IN TO SCHOOL LIKE THIS!!!’
‘Darling, it’s too late to go home and change,’
‘I have to go home now’
‘Can’t you wear your PE shoes’
‘I don’t have them at schooooooooooooool’
‘Darling, it’s a genuine mistake, no one will tell you off.’

Into breakfast club we went – it’s like Ministry of Sound in the good old days, but for under 10s – but the poor little thing was inconsolable. We chatted, she calmed down and we said good bye.

I left the playground under a cloud and sporting a tear-stain pattern on my new dress. Shit.

When I picked her up, I asked how she’d got on with the flip flops and she told me she had borrowed someone else’s shoes and a pair of socks and it was all fine in the end.

There were lots of ladies wearing flip flops in the office today. I sat down at my new desk, I looked down at my feet, without a trace of smugness, thinking flip flip, flop flop…where’s the coffee, I’ve done a day’s work already.

picture credit James Mosingo

No darlings, no typo, I’m far too considered for that. I suppose it’s more of a wardrobe misfunction. Or really a malfunction. Actually, it’s a nonfunction. No, no, sorry. It’s a gone-function.

‘Wasdrobe’ is my new name for what was my work wardrobe. It came to me as I opened up the white doors to find something to wear for my child-free bout of weekend socialising. I rifled through the rails marvelling at all this smart stuff I haven’t worn for months and had a small but perfectly formed revelation. A very obvious and great divide had evolved….

You see, while I’ve had time on my hands, I’ve put it to good use. I’ve done what every good girl should, but no frazzled full-time-working-bread-winner-plate-spinning Mum can do, I’ve colour coded my wardrobe (yep, I bet you’re jealous).

I know, it’s not exactly ground breaking, but it’s my own kind of Hong Kong Shoey Feng Shui. Starting on the left with a winter white Prada waterproof jacket that’s definitely seen a few adventures…moving towards chocolate browns including a very neat suede biker cut jacket, a D&G striped knit with olive sleeves and a few choice khaki items; linen trousers etc, then on to my blue clothes, and ending at my DVF purple satin wrap blouse. Then strangely, a gap. Well not quite a gap, it’s filled with empty wooden hangers. And towards the right, it’s all gone a bit Johny Painter – see vid if you’re not a Fast Show aficionado…

So there it is.
A preCredit Crunch collection of expensively tailored, extensively searched for, very exquisite and very defunct clothing.

Black cacherel 50s style jacket, my prized Armani cinched waist rosette jacket, DKNY nipped waist dress, Miu Miu capri pants, black merino jersey t-shirt, black stretch cotton tank, black biker jacket, black Maggie Wonka net skirt, some eco friendly black wrap dress. And there’s a whole lot more languishing at the dry cleaners.

But who cares about the designers – it’s all just black – and a sign of things now past. Like they say, consigned to the back of the cupboard. And how the world has changed…

Funny isn’t it when you see a little capsule collection, or rather a time capsule, like that?

You know me, I’m always at a loose end these days but I do manage to keep myself pretty busy. So today’s ‘job’ was to get back to basic communication and create a flyer and publicise my ‘Lost’ notice to my neighbours and use some good old fashioned door to door leafleting.

I found myself inhabiting a strange new junk mail world as I opened creaking gates and posted my flyer through the NO JUNK MAIL stickers on letterboxes. I met a nice VSO lady on the way round, she was doorstepping for volunteers, and a rather gorgeous delivery man who eyed my leaflet very sweetly (he obviously thought I was the neighbourhood kook, and I guess he’s right).

The whole thing was quite scary. While I managed to get a good old gander at the decor and decay of the houses in my close vicinity, I was terrified of being pepper sprayed or worse, attacked by dogs. Thankfully I was not, and amazingly that was my whole morning taken up.

I’m sure you’re wondering by now what my particular ‘Lost’ thing is.

Well, when we moved here last year, Miniminx and I thought it would be a great idea to let our gorgeous little tortoise Shelley experience the great outdoors and experience summer on the lawn. I’ve never seen her so lively, she chomped and tiptoed her way around the garden like Angelina Ballerina, she grew, her eyes sparkled, it was a good thing. Whenever we brought her inside, she would walk up to the french doors and gaze longingly at the big wild world outside and even bring herself up onto two legs. So you got it, we gave in and set her loose. She’s a born wanderer, and started disappearing for the odd day, and come back, then a week and come back, and then three weeks and back. But by September she had upped and left us. I was worried that she’d taken up home with the tortoise four doors down or worse, snaffled by the foxes under the shed. Worried as I was, I knew she could peck her way out of any situation, but come the snow, Jack Frost would get her. I have had terrible dreams about her demise over the last few months and felt haunted by her loss. While I feared the worst, and Miniminx has shed a few tears, I’ve always kept the faith strong and believed she would return triumphantly in the spring.

So the nature of my DIY-Direct-Mail shot was a last concerted effort to find Shelley. It was quite poetic…

HAVE YOU SEEN OUR TORTOISE?
Our lovely tortoise Shelley has gone walkabout.
We have a feeling she may wake up out of hibernation in your garden because we’re neighbours. Her usual habitat is XXXX XXXXX, so if you find her keeping your lawn in trim please call us on XXXXXXXX
We have all the documentation to prove she is ours.

You get the idea.

Much as I’d like to say I felt a bit smug about my little lost tortoise campaign, I was actually feeling really guilty for losing her. And how upset Miniminx has been. And what if an empty shell is found in someone’s garden and they drop it by. And was I showing myself up as a complete and utter loser. And, and…so enough of all that, I had done all I could, and that was that, it was now in the lap of the gods.

I decided to get busy with the garden. I picked weeds at random and ventured to the bottom of the garden to check on our resident newts in the water butt. I know I’m naughty but when they’re basking in the water they look a bit dead so I’m not averse to poking them with a stick. Phew! The floating one was alive. I looked around the shed and felt a bit glum. Then I spotted the new ringweed shoots (that hideous scourge of any garden) I became a toxic avenger, brandishing the weed killer and spraying it with venom. I my eyes darted around the foliage, something moved, or did it?

‘OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ I boomed.
There was a shell, a Shelley shell. With little feet sticking out of it, but no head. I grabbed the poke-the-newt-stick and gingerly reached out towards my muddy beloved.
‘Is she…..?’ I whispered to myself
‘Is she….?’ I reached over and tapped her shell. She moved! Her head popped out.

photo credit Bob Gibbons

‘ALIVE! YESSS!’
I ran inside shouting
‘The tortoise, she’s back! Hurray!’
A startled cleaner jumped up and down.
‘Sweet’ she said. Maybe I should have offered her £20 ages ago and she would have found her in the manner of my iPod?

Weirdly enough, I’d been checking tortoise web sites to find out what I should do with one straight out of hibernation. So I put the taps on in the sink to get the water running and filled it, adding some sugar.

I headed back outside, darling Shelley had the appearance of a little space creature that had just landed – slightly dazed and looking around wildly (well as wildly as a tortoise can) at her new surroundings. She was covered in mud so must have tunnelled out of somewhere pretty recently. What a result!

She is now bathing in the manner of Cleopatra in a large warm bath and happily chomping on greens. I still can’t quite believe she just appeared, but hang on a minute. On second thoughts, do you think some bastard got the leaflet, realised that she belonged to us and then just lobbed her over the fence in a panic?

I’ve obviously lived too much of an urban life. For just a moment ago, I got a call from a concerned neighbour.

‘Hello, I got your note’
‘Hi’
‘I haven’t found her, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for her’
‘Thanks so much. But do you know what? Oh, you’ll never guess what.’
‘What?’
‘Can you believe it, I just found her at the bottom of the garden. Alive and well and she’s reviving after hibernation in the sink, happy as larry’
‘Aaaah, that’s such a lovely story, that’s made my day’
‘And mine, thank you so much for calling’
‘No problem, that’s really great’

…now, much as I’d like to think it would be a better story if this caller had been the secretive tortoise-over-the-garden-lobber, I’m not going to believe it.

I’m happy to have my other little baby back…

The ‘news’ being the result of my interview. Waiting is just the worst thing and especially when your future is a stake, it becomes the kind of wait that makes you clean your house inside out, iron and fold things, generally do anything to distract yourself and keep busy and of course, gaffer tape your mobile to your leg so you don’t miss the ‘call’.

So I heard, and first it was luke warm news but with an exciting twist. Perhaps there was another newly created role which would work for me – would I be interested? I bought into this 100% as it was a far more exciting proposition and I was up on the moon for a while.

As calls came and went, this turned into a red hot fireball which then unexpectedly blew up in my face. So now the cold tap is attached to the garden hose and drenching me so to speak. What a day, and it’s not even 6pm. I’m just plain old keeling over.

Not sure where to turn now. It seems I’m more likely to win the lottery than get a job. I’m going to really, really panic for now and take stock when I’ve calmed down a bit – so probably by tomorrow I’ll be back at it. I had my hopes up and now they’re dashed again.

What’s a girl to do?

Well, I shall be drinking red wine tonight (if the head cold allows) and mouthing along to my karaoke (can’t upset the neighbours can I?).

And tomorrow, as Scarlett says, is another day…and how lucky I went down the garden centre to buy some seeds for a vegetable patch, perhaps they’ll keep us fed over the coming Summer months….

‘I GOT THE JOB!!!! I GOT THE JOB!!!!!’

The weirdest thing was, I knew I hadn’t got the job but I left the interview room on a real high and shouted it from the rooftops – bizarre to say the least. They call it ‘wish fulfilment’.

Needless to say, as in any absurd dream, and I have a lot of them, things take on a rather surreal touch.  Unlike my teenage dreams of appearing on stage having not learned my script (that was always recurrent before exams), or even those other ones of sitting on the loo in public places, this time I was cavorting in a very red short dress…not a good look for me right now, so I see this as a warning; I will not, I repeat not, be wearing anything red to my next interview. 

Having studied Jung and Freud does this mean I’m not reddy (sic) or am I falling short, is this the bums rush? 

On the other hand, even though I thought I looked rather good (how come you can always see yourself in dreams, I just don’t get it) – it fell nothing short of bare faced cheek, am I going to embarass myself and leave redfaced…I’m cringeing already.

Yes, I know, my dreams are just like my everyday life, full of insouciance and double entendres…fa-nah fa-nah fa-nah.

Aaaarghhh – it’s nearly 12.30 and I need my beauty sleep. So as I hit the pillow, perchance to dream or not, do wish me luck…I need it. I am experiencing serious butterflies and have come down with a cold so will be snivelling like a wretch…with a red nose (yes, a red nose is a bummer so I’m sure my dream has a deeper meaning). I’ve spent hours, if not days, preparing myself and now I can’t sleep a bit but I have to try otherwise it’s red nose and red eyes and possibly the red card.

I have a put a lot of time into a very minimalist presentation and I have 15 minutes to convince these lovely people I’m the lady for the job…

Maybe dreams can come true – aaaah aaah, any dream will do…

After a hour or so of feeling like I was about to pop, I woke up again thinking it was 8.54 and was just about to panic when I checked again and it was 6.54. Phew!

I got a good morning kiss, a cuddle and a cup of tea in bed. Then I was babbled at for 90 minutes. Oh yes, Miniminx was up and about and working on her new, new signature. It’s morphing over the pages of her Hannah Montana notebook, so now it’s a fish motif (she’s Pisces) with her first name in the body shape and her surname initials in the tail. Wow, amazing and thoughtful and invidual – what a cutie. She’s learning how to express herself and creating a sense of identity. She proudly showed me page after page of permutations and I have to say I’m massively impressed, in fact it’s quite a developmental milestone.

We’ve had a Wicked weekend in more ways than one. First we went to see the Wicked the Musical on Saturday and second, after a long and Rosé fuelled Sunday lunch by the river in the fabulour sunshine we were Wicked and Musical.

Miniminx’s Luckyvoice Partybox is a hit in our house, but not it seems next door. So much so in fact, that my neighbour felt it necessary to holler at me about above through the din. It was 7pm, not 2am. Yes, how very unseemly of her, she obviously didn’t enjoy our renditions of the Smiths and Pulp or our duets – we hadn’t even got to Dolly Parton on the playlist. Thank heavens I took off my Amy Winehouse wig before I answered the door…actually, hang on a minute, maybe I should have just kept it on and screamed ‘Blaaaaaaaaaaaake Incaaaaaa-arse-errated’ …that would have stopped her in her tracks.

Ooh she’s a wet blanket isn’t she? Three hugely happy grown ups were placed on the proverbial naughty step and the impromptu party died a death. While I’m tempted to hang my smalls out to dry on our shared trellis just to wind her up a bit, I won’t, because I’m nice and she’s a meanie. I’ve never complained about her REALLY ANNOYING chair-scraping-across-wooden-floor habit, or the way she lets her burglar alarm ring loudly as she goes in and out of the house, or her car alarm going off at 6.45am.

Maybe I should drop anonymous notes through her door saying ‘Lay off that wind breaking will ya?’ or ‘Don’t mean to alarm you but your cleaner is having sex parties while you’re at work – signed a kind, concerned neighbour’.

We’ll just stick to show tunes for now though…I think she might get the point non?

It’s not for the want of trying that I’m still at home job hunting, as you can see from my older posts, I’ve been trying to get a foot in the door at lots of places. But still, it’s hard not to think ‘Why me?’.

Last week I had lunch with a dear dear friend, she’s called Roofy-roof in our household, christened by Miniminx when she was toothless.

Roofy – she does have teeth! – is in fact one of the most extraordinary people I know and deserves a bit SHOUT on my blog for being so fab. HELLO YOU!. We first met 9 years ago, and I remember it very well because I was 7 and a half months pregnant, hiding my bump under a massive fake fur wrap and trying to blag a job in her start up (the shame of it – ha ha!). We had an informal interview over coffee and got on like a house on fire. I thought I’d pretty much bagged the job, but I hadn’t dropped the bomb just quite yet.

As we left the coffee house on Old St (home to virtually every dot com start up that ever was) she clocked my body profile and I could only grin inanely, hoping my waters wouldn’t break…

Her mouth formed a sideways capital O, and while she was rendered speechless, I filled in the blanks and explained that it was her lucky day and she would essentially be getting two for one if she gave me the job (see, it’s the way you spin it!).

After a few more meetings, and several months after Miniminx arrived, we started work together in the those crazy boom and bust times which pale into insignificance against the back drop of the 21st century credit crunch carnage, but hey it was all last century and at least we live in interesting times.

So back to the 21st century and a nice little eaterie in Covent Garden. We ordered lunch and caught up on our general gossip; life, love, friends, foes, shopping and travel. Then came, the ‘So let’s cut the crap, what’s really going on’ bit, and I was a bit grumbly about the work situation.

‘I don’t know if I can go back to agency life, I want to do my own thing, but I don’t quite know what it is yet’ I whinged
‘Come on, you do have to get a job, it’s not like you have much of a choice’
‘There are jobs out there but they’re a big step down in salary’
‘Maybe you’ll have to bite the bullet’
‘But I really like blogging, it’s fun’ I whined
‘Well see if you can make a living doing it, maybe you can’
‘Oh I dunno, I doubt it’ what a moaner!
‘Well a job will be the only option then’
‘Hmmm, none of them really excite me though, nothing floats my boat’
‘Oh dear’
‘Is there something wrong with me?
‘I know it! I know what’s wrong with you!’
‘What, please enlighten me?’
‘Well I think it’s obvious, you’ve lost your work Mojo’
‘Oh my god, you’re right. My work Mojo is nonexistent’
‘Yeah, it’s obviously gone’
‘I’m like Austin Powers – how am I going to get it back?’
‘Search me’
‘Yeah, I dunno either…’

Roofy was right, as I pen this, I realise, if I can get a job heavily pregnant I can do anything (Roofy-roof is always right). So I am cranking up a gear and I’ve set a mental deadline of two more months to get it in the bag.

And hey ho, what do you know, I have a job interview today. I’ve got 30 minutes to sell myself and I’ll be competing against a lot of candidates.

I’m nervous and scared but that’s a good thing, because I want it. I’ve done my homework, I’ve got some ideas, I’m writing a little checklist, printing off the job spec and CV to take with me (on the back of school newsletters to recycle paper no less).

While the odds maybe stacked against me, at least I’m out there trying. I’ve pulled off bigger feats than this before and even though times are tough, I’m going to pull out all the stops, make a big effort and rise to the occasion.

…and here is my latest doodle, inspired by days of rummaging round my handbag in search of my lippy only to find the poor little thing has just about had it.

It’s not that easy to replace, no matter where I look, I haven’t found it anywhere. Don’t you hate it when cosmetic companies discontinue that shade that gives you a bit of * * WOW * *?

Try this, it could save you a few quid and give you luscious lips for longer.

originally uploaded by nixdminx.

========================

** Very simple instructions **

========================

Pop your lip gloss (with the lid up) in hot water for 5 minutes

and it magically melts to the bottom of the tube and gives you

lots more wear.

WARNING: Don’t apply until it has cooled down though

Fabulous!

PS: If you spot Clinique Blackberry Bloom anywhere, just let me know will ya?

Being out of work is any oxymoron – I’m am actually working very hard to get a job even though the KPIs below amount to failure. Maybe I should just do nothing…and wait

A year ago this would have been an adventure and I would have had  five or so face to face interviews by now and maybe two serious offers on the table but it’s no longer a job seekers’ market.

My efforts are not to be sniffed at, I haven’t succumbed to daytime TV and microwave lunches just quite yet but hey ho, it goes like this;

Hours spent trawling the web for jobs = 280

Registrations on job sites = 6

Paid subscriptions to job sites = 1

Recruiter meetings = 5

CV submissions = 15

CV re-edits = 6

CV rejections = 2

Non acknowledgment of CV submissions = 4

Jobs that have evaporated due to the credit crunch before I even put a foot through the door = 2

Job interviews = 0

Interviews that are still in the pipeline = 2

Oh, I know it looks really bad on paper. But it only takes one job to come up trumps doesn’t it?

There’s a massive flipside to unemployment (apart from lie ins, daytime drinking, no commutes etc.)  It is not have to spend time with people you just wouldn’t hang out with under any other circumstances.  Workmates are just heinous at times – all that gnashing of teeth, loose eyes in head and frothing of the mouth, and that’s just me.

I know they don’t mean it but there’s loads of plain old crap that you suffer daily in the corporate office environment that you just wouldn’t bloody tolerate don’t get at home (unless you’re in Downing Street or the Whitehouse)…and there’s a lot to be said for swapping the at-work-alpha for the out-of-work-omega status.

Zero is the new hero for me as I realise that my work angst is nil.

Here goes, all those jaw clenching petty things that I no longer have to put up with;

1. The silent farters – you know who you are! – 0
2. ‘Does my life amount to this moments’ = 0
3. ‘URGENT’ work calls during home/sick/holiday/weekend-time = 0
4. ‘Are you REALLY sick?’ phone calls from unconcerned revenue/deadline driven colleagues = 0
5. Snide, snitchy, backbiting comments from septic single work ‘mates’ = 0
6. The ‘I found your idea and made it mine so I get a promotion and you don’t’ = 0
7. Unwelcome advances from drunken executives at work functions = 0
8. The ‘Sorry mate but I dumped you in it on a Friday night at 5pm – I’m off for a stag weekend’ = 0
9. Infuriating, desk sharing nose-picking, nail-biting toetappers = 0
10. Smokers who come back to their desks humming with the smell of fags/frantic Nicorette guzzling
    addicts = 0
11. ‘Oops I just shared that drunken photo of you to 2,000 people’, can I recall the email? = 0
12. The ‘I’m going to make you look SOOOO bad’ triple cc emails chasing you for a deadline you ‘supposedly’ missed but the cow colleague has just not read your email from three days ago
13. Snickering gimps on instant message who NEVER turn off the high pitched alert
14. Four word emails on crackberrys
15. The ‘I know you’re on holiday but if you’re reading emails, can you just ….’

But the thing is, these are the things things that make the world go round in working life, so now I’ve had a break, let me at ‘em!