Pandas in Go-Karts

Until I handed in my resignation two weeks ago I never realised how hard it is to look busy for 8 hours a day.

Sure, I’ve spent the past 5 years occasionally dipping in and out of the internet, shopping for random treasures on eBay and shamefully appreciating daft pictures of animals in humorous ‘human’ situations. But, since announcing my long overdue escape I have found it increasingly hard to concentrate on anything remotely work related, which has resulted intensifying my hunt for new cats with insatiable fast-food appetites.

Now, after two weeks of thumb-twiddling, my joints have finally seized and yesterday I caught myself almost contemplating the idea of doing some work in a bid to break the boredom of pretending to work. This actually seemed like quite a good idea at first, before I came to my senses and realised that by doing work I would ultimately be helping out the office which is the last thing I want to do.  They’ve clawed enough out of me, they’re not getting anymore of my time which was already half-arsed to begin with.

So I have a dilemma…what do I do for the next two weeks? Give in to ‘The Man’ and work? Or develop a cruder, cavemanesque sense of humour, delve into the lurid belly of bad internet humour and silently laugh myself into dribbling dronedom?

Porn isn’t even an option due to the supposed ‘malleable minds’ of the youngsters that lurk these corridors. Any attempt to search for something remotely erotic or perverted will get dead-ended by an ‘Inappropriate Content’ brick wall. (Drawing nudey pics on a memo-pad is no substitute either.)

My only alternative is industrial sabotage. But how does one corrupt an already corrupt office?

There is no mature answer to this… pass me a dead fish, pva glue and hole punch.

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