Why Can’t We All Just Get Along?

“Morning old chap.”

“Morning Nige.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what Nige?”

“Shorten my name.”

“I apologise. What can I do for you Nigella?”

“Oh haha. Hilarious. Love your work Stephanie.”

“You might love it but it doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t what?”


“I don’t underst…”

“Your name is Nigel. I shorten it to Nige because you’ve foolishly revealed that it annoys you. I then lengthened it to Nigella which irritated you further and caused you to lash back by calling me a girl’s name which, if my name was Stephen, might have been a witty retort but given that my name remains Dave…was a bit shit.”


“And now you’ve miraculously shed thirty years and become a sulky teenager. Was there something you wanted exactly?”

“You’ve seen it I suppose.”

“Yes. Great series. Clowns scare the bejesus out of me at the best of times although I think the ending was a let down from the book. I’ve heard there’s a remake coming out soon.”

“Not It. It. The sign. On the toilet doors.”

“The one that looks like a man or perhaps a woman depending on which floor you’re on?”

“No. The one that says Staff Only.”


“Wow indeed. You can see the problem then.”

“Absolutely. 100%. I’m going to speak to HR about it this morning.”

“You are?”

“Yep. Leave it with me.”

“That’s…well that’s really…thanks Dave.”

“Don’t mention it Nige. I abhor discrimination.”

“Me too! I mean, I know the guys are a bit rough and ready but you can’t expect building contractors to have to go down at least five floors to the basement every time they want to…”

“Or elves.”

“…they do a great job and…what do you mean elves?”

“Bow and arrows generally, barring the odd double scimitar arrangement.”

“Still don’t quite get where you’re going with…”

“Dwarves would be buggered as well. All hammers and blunt weapons. And it’s a long way down to the basement on short legs. Utterly outrageous that wizards get such preferential treatment just because they happen to have long pieces of wood about their person. I bet Jeff Gandalf from finance is behind this. Probably standing behind the door bellowing you shall not pass as we speak.”

“Oh ha bloody ha. I might have known you wouldn’t take it seriously.”

“How can you say that Nige? I’m sticking up for the little guys here.”

“Obvs. Anyway are you going the workshop this afternoon. New release of that bridging software. Apparently it’ll allow machines to collaborate like bread and butter.”

“Bread and butter?”

“That’s what it said on the invite.”

“Not say…a rope and pulley?”

“No. Bread and butter.”

“Not peas and carrots?”

“No. Why exactly?”

“Think about Nige. Rope and pulley. Teamwork. Collaboration. Peas and carrots. A meeting of equals intermingling to produce a rainbow medley of veg. The very epitome of collaboration. The kind of crazy new world kids who’d just make a plan if a couple of sweetcorn kernels rocked up. Join the party dudes! Everyone’s welcome!

“And this is different from bread and butter, how?”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me this. It’s actually offensive that you can’t see the problem here.”

“What problem?”

“It’s a fucking forced marriage Nigel, that’s the problem. Big bad bread always gets what he wants. It’s a democracy of one. Butter doesn’t want to collaborate, butter wants to be safe and cool in a dark covered dish but wait…no…noooo…put the knife down…please bread I’ll do whatever you want…I’m begging you don’t make me spread my…”

“It’s pointless talking to you, do you know that?”

“I’m devastated to hear that Nige but if you feel you need to leave at any time and perhaps never return I’ll struggle through someh…”


“Later than Arthur Dent but I admire your persistence.”

“Haha. Davin…OWWWW you bloody bastard! What was that for?”

“Spirit of collaboration Nige. My shiny pamphlet on workplace etiquette collaborating with your forearm to produce blood via the medium of a paper cut. It’s a beautiful thing my friend. No, don’t go! Let’s have a quick verse of kumbaya together.”

“I’m reporting you to HR as soon as I’ve cleaned this cut up.”

“Don’t forget your staff Nige…”

This piece marks my 200th post on this particular blog so it felt fitting to return to my comfort zone of talking a whole load of bollocks via the medium of dialogue masquerading as a story. Thank you to everyone who has spent time reading my nonsense over the last couple of years – I can only hope you don’t find a more interesting hobby any time soon.

28 thoughts on “Why Can’t We All Just Get Along?

  1. Congratulations on your 200th piece of bollocks – and the sharing of your desire to overrun the HR department’s secret cult where everyone is called Nige wearing elves costumes that come out of the closet after dark to brighten co-workers day by sticking gnomes in random places around the orrifices -oops – offices! (*inahle here)
    Your literary nonsense is an inspiration and a triumph, my friend. Again, congratulations and I look forward to the next 200.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Thanks Mel 🙂 You’ve probably seen most of the first 200 so knowing that you are still entertained and ready for more means a lot to me. I hope there are no gnome-related injuries around the workplace today but I can’t swear to everyone’s safety…

      Thank you for all your support over such a long period – it’s been a real joy to virtually get to know you!


  2. 200th anniversary well done.
    From your story I thought we were having a bit of office banter, then seriously behind the humour there was this element of dominance – so of course we can’t get along. It is human nature brought out through simple dialogue – mind you I wouldn’t want to work with Nigeliena or Davianne they sound a right pair of David and Nigel’s from the packing department office responsible for licking the stamps or do they use a wet wipes.

    Liked by 1 person

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