The title says it all. I swore never to work in a 9 to 5 job. Sometimes, you get what you wish for, with a twist. Not only did I not get a 9 to 5 job, I got a 9 to 9 one.
I've spent so many days working my ass off in a small cubicle partitioned off from the rest of the office, when I actually knocked off work today and realised it wasn't dark, my brain actually took a while to adjust and realise that there was still sun. It was then that I realised that for the first time in weeks, I had just knocked off before 7pm. It doesn't help that my office has blue glazed windows, so it permanently looks like late evening, even if its 2pm in the afternoon, which only adds to the whole dissociation from reality.
And in such an environment, you find that certain aspects of you change. For one, you start to get really really lame jokes. Today, my colleague cracked this one. He went "What is the oldest place in the world? Got the most old people one. From the name you also can tell."
Well, we tried several lame attempts. I tried a good one, the old folks home, but obviously the joke wasn't meant to be logical.
The answer?
"A-ma-zon" (pronounced ah-ma-zone)
I actually loled like a bloody idiot at this and felt so stupid after, because everyone turned around to see who was the guy who was laughing out loud in the middle of lunch. My other colleague turned to this colleague and asked "what about all the grandfathers?", but obviously that wasn't the point of the joke.
I've also started to notice that I sing to the photocopy machine. I didn't notice it before, until I had this really long print job that was taking ages, it was something along the lines of printing 30 copies of some 20 page document, when I realised that I was actually serenading the photocopier with my best rendition of "The lazy song" by Bruno Mars. In a sense, I think I was actually channeling my subconscious - "Today I don't feel like doing anything, nothing at all", but it all got really silly real fast when I saw a colleague standing behind my left shoulder grinning.
And my colleague has that same grin no matter when I see him, whether its at the photocopier, or in the tiny men's toilet where it gets awkward real fast because there is but one urinal and two guys. Or three. I usually choose to go to the pantry, if only to escape the massive awkward turtle moment.
And of course, in an office this small, there just had to be a TNP fanboy. The moment he realised I was a former TNP reporter, he started asking me all sorts of questions. "Do you know ___? What stories did you write?" When I told him the stories I actually did write, he was like "Wow that was you? Really? You're a legend man! I keep all the page one covers of TNP you know, if only for the TNP dollars. And I remember your stories!"
And during the house visits that are a part of my job, he went "Wow you're a natural man. You always know how to find the right house. And you aren't scared of talking to all these strangers at all, even those that look like gangsters. And you always know what questions to ask. You're damn steady man!"
Me (trying to play it down because his eagerness was kinda freaking me out): "I used to be a reporter for TNP."
Fanboy: "Yes yes no wonder you're so good at this!"
Sigh. Way to associate yourself with a colleague who will never leave you alone now, because you worked for his favourite newspaper. Now he gives me this knowing look whenever he sees me that I have yet to figure out how to respond to, because it touches on this very uncomfortable line somewhere between admiration and creepiness.