Scrap that

I had my first meeting with current boss about 9 months ago on a cold morning around 11am. My shirt was un-ironed but tucked in, my tie and belt was missing, my staff swipe card was cracked, and I was in desperate need for a haircut. Some first impression.

My boss sat me down, and reclined into his boss-man chair. His checkered shirt was casual but probably worth more than my entire outfit, he clearly wasn’t one who cared for ties either, honestly can’t remember if he had a belt as my gaze never drifted down below nipple height, his swipe card brand new around his neck, he donned a pretty casual haircut for someone who obviously wanted to look casual. Some first impression. A good one though.

“So, erm… don’t really know what to do in this sorta meeting. I suppose I’d just tell you a bit about myself then?” I queried. Yep, he said, just tell me whatever you care to tell.

Sweet, chance to play it cool. I started my story with my usual disclaimer: “I’m gonna woffle on a bit, so yeah, here goes nothing.” or something like that.
And so I woffled on, much like I’m doing now.

What was it that I wanted to write about? “Scrap that.” Yes, start with the story of how my boss described me, then the story about our psychometric test at the team away days, throw in a couple of remarks my boss made about me, and point made – I’m impulsive, I hate routines, I’m shit at keeping promises to myself.

So yeah, I’ve decided to scrap the middle bit of this blog, cuz I woffle, and I don’t want to. You get the story though. But the point is, I want to write again, and this is the first of many more lazy promises that I’ll try and vomit a few words here and there, now and again, there and back, funny or bleak.