In a million years from now aliens from the planet Klorg – Klorgians or Klorgs, it matters not – will descend upon Earth. Not that humans will care as we’ll have long since wiped ourselves out, but the cockroach population will be extremely concerned as to the Klorgian staple diet.
As they make their Klorgian way across our once green earth, and navigate our once blue oceans they will no doubt piece together the secrets of our past. They will marvel at the capacity of humans for torture and abject misery; plot their way through the exponential quagmire of humanity and, after unveiling all the horrors the world has to offer, they will arrive at July 5th 2016*
*not literally – they don’t have time travel capabilities. That will only come at the rising of Grluvian Empire another epoch hence.
All seventeen of their slightly beady but unsettlingly intelligent eyes will, as it were, bug-out simultaneously. They will shake their massive, furry heads and make a noise not dissimilar to “Gzhgj” (but not entirely the same either) before immediately* leaving for home, marveling at the depravity of the fallen species of humankind.
*brief pause to collect some cockroaches for the journey notwithstanding.
And what spleen-wobblingly horrible historical artefact will launch them into such a frenzy of Klorgian konsternation…?
That’ll be the Excel document I’ve spent the entire day working on as part of an RFP process.
If you don’t know what an RFP is don’t look it up. Spare your beautiful eyes. Rumour has it that the only thing that can kill Chuck Norris is the mind-numbing tedium of filling out tab after tab of dreary questions cleverly designed to exert maximum WTF-ness upon an unsuspecting soul. Inviting companies to complete RFP documents is like legalising cage fighting where blind puppies go up against velociraptors.
“How did the RFP process go Nigel?”
“It was marvelous Brian. An absolute triumph. Three submitted, five withdrew and a hundred and eighty-three died or went blind. Or both.”
You may wonder why I’m writing this. Surely after a day spent staring at a computer screen the last thing anyone would want to do is to stare at one a bit more?
But y’see…if my kids ask me tomorrow “Dad. What did you do at work yesterday?” I can either respond by saying…
“I spent over thirteen hours having the life sucked out of me by the corporate world while simultaneously having the imagination portion of my brain lobotomised and used as cockroach feed for the greater Klorgian good.”
Or, I could just say…
“Daddy had a very long day. But at the end I wrote some words on a page and life was fine again.”
Yeah. I agree. The line about the greater Klorgian good is way better.