One of the joys of working in an air-conditioned office is that you often get to experience four seasons in a day. I will admit that those seasons with a recognised equinox do pose more of a challenge. Sure, you can come to work armed with a bag of autumnal leaves and a flask of spring rain to help things along but generally Winter and Summer tend to hold sway.
There’s a theory that’s half fact half urban legend that you are legally obliged to be sent home from work if temperatures fall outside certain parameters within the workplace. Lower than 13 degrees or above 30 degrees Celsius seems to be the accepted rumour for the UK. Aussies are much tougher and only start having breaks in their day when it hits 35 but even there it’s apparently hometime when it hits 38. The lower band is unlikely to be problematic down under.
The joyous dwelling that houses me from 9-ish to 5-ish every day takes temperature fluctuation very seriously. The floor I generally work on for example has a diametric relationship with the temperature outside. On the hottest day in recorded history for Cape Town (March 3rd 2015) temperatures outside the building were 42 degrees Celsius. Inside I was wearing three layers and shivering. Fortunately I had a scheduled meeting on another floor where the ambient temperature was that of a collapsing sun and the stench thanks to a backed up toilet block was much like I imagine it would be if I was surfing the inside of Satan’s bell-end on a board made of fermented shark.
None of these things were enough to make me run screaming from the building.
This morning I discovered something that can tip me to breaking point and should be a legal reason for a mass office evacuation (in a leaving the building sense rather than a synchronised poo-athon one).
IQ. Idiot Quotient.
We’ve invented all kinds of stuff that can measure…all kinds of stuff but to my knowledge no-one has found a reliable imbecilemeter, fucknutometer or indeed fool-vane to reliably measure intensity and/or direction of corporate dimwittery.
I cannot begin to describe to you the level of pillockism I encounter on a daily basis – but it has to be a health hazard. If not to me, then to the swathes of the working populace I am likely to bludgeon to death with a rebooting laptop one day soon (based on current levels of twatfinkery and general numbskull exposure).
So please, if someone out there with a scientific mind is able to construct a device to accurately measure safe levels of cretinism, nincompoopery and moronic ignoramity then please in the name of all that is unholy can you come and install it for me.
I’m thinking of rigging it up to an alarm system involving a flashing clown’s nose and circus music.
Oh, and for anyone who works with me who might be reading this – it isn’t you. The dullards in question have yet to get their knuckles off the floor long enough for me to work out if they even have opposable thumbs.
That is all.