It Can Always Get Worse

Just when you thought you had the world's worst HR manager, as tall an order as that is, along comes one that's worse.

We had Ms Incompetent, it-must-be-someone-else’s-fault, Rita, and we were pleased when she left. We all breathed a sigh of relief.

But, then we got Kate. What can I say about Kate? Is Kate the new term for poisonous cow? Continually stressed, highly strung, prone to yelling.

I can just picture her, off duty, rat-faced and holding up the bar with a spilling, “white whine glass.” So many breathy Ws. Shuddering jaw, vibrating teeth, inhaling any company passing by, but then it’s 3am and the bar is empty. Her glass is still full. 

“Fill me up,” she slurs to the barman. 

She’d be fallin’ about if she wasn’t hanging on so tight.

She’s on her own, you know, sweaty, fidgety, alone. A swivelling 360 degree head, any noise desperation fixates on.

She’s wacked on the bitterness of middle aged and the prospect of missing out. You can see it in her face when she looks at you. I can see it in the way she stares. A barely subdued anger at life letting her down emotionally. There's a desperation in her eyes. How did this happen to me? 

You could almost feel sorry for her?

You wonder if you know anyone who might be able to cheer her up? I mean it can't always be combat, maybe another approach is needed. Maybe these HR dragons need love, not derision. A new approach? Except my mates wouldn't play, I don't reckon. It would be like dunking them in cold water… on a dark night

“Who is it?” Andre would ask.

“What is she to you?” Jackson would ask.

“You want us to do what?” Brent would chime in.

“HR woman. I think she is probably just lonely. Maybe one of you could make her happy,” I’d say.

“Josh, we have standards,” Andre would say. 

“You’d change her life, I’m pretty sure,” I state.

“I’d be too concerned about her changing my life,” Jackson would say.

“You could get yourself drunk,” I’d say.

“You could get me that wasted,” says Jackson with a smirk. “But no.” He’d shake his head from side to side.

“It would probably make her nicer to be around, though. Surely one of you boys could sweep her off her feet and back into life again,” I say.

“Nah, not me,” says Brent.

“Me either,” says Andre.

“You know you’d be making the world a nicer place for everyone concerned,” I say.

“Take one for the team?” Andre would question.

“You think this is a civic duty?” Jackson would question.

“Did you say HR?” Brent would ask.

“No, just no,” the four boys say in unison.

Too much? Yeah, I know. It's not women, it is just the type of woman who goes into HR. The holier than thou types, with allusions of grandeur.

“It would make my life better,” I say

"That’s not promised," says Brent.

"HR girls famously have aspirations to be better than the next person," says Andre.

"That personality will snap at you, like alien, so buyer beware," says Jackson.

"Not for me," says handsome Brent. "I don't usually go for something... er, so Dissociatively disordered."

“Is it true that they are all Geminis?” says Andre.

“Prefects from school,” says Jackson.

“You could change my life,” I say.

“Nah, sorry,” says Andre.

“You’re on your own,” says Jackson.

“Barp, barp, I’m out,” says Brent.

“She might blossom with love,” I say.

“She might not too,” says Brent.

“I make it a habit of not dating anyone from the HR gene pool,” says Jackson.

“I think the singles bar is where she belongs,” says Brent.

“Well thanks guys. What have you got to lose, even giving it a go?” I say.

“Our happiness.”

“Our peaceful existence.”

“Our lives.”