Duckalypse

So…It’s been a while. And like a teenager who ditched their friends for that one person they had a crush on only to come crawling back when it didn’t work out, here I am.  

For almost two years I was working a job that was the complete opposite of retail. I spent my days sitting behind a desk, answering the phone maybe a handful of times a day and for the most part, not speaking to people or being stressed out at all. It was amazing.  

I was able to leave work at work and for the most part I didn’t have any stories to tell. There was the occasional customer that would call up and be an obnoxious twat but for the most part I had nothing to complain about.  

The anxious thoughts that I was going to get fired the minute I walked into work had stopped. In fact I had finally admitted to needing help to control the anxiety spirals I would go on and felt like an actual some what functioning member of society.  

I spent more time than I necessarily should have trying to find things to do. Hell I created spread sheets just to make my day to day processes a little longer. It also meant that when it came to the end of month paperwork that I knew exactly when I’d given invoices to the boss to check and whether or not he had actually given them back. 

I had a good rapport with everyone in the office and on Thursdays the bosses’ daughter and I shared the antics of our children with each other. This also led to me being eternally grateful that while my toddler is a tornado he’s not a budding psychopath wishing death on insects and small creatures.  

Everything felt like it was at peace.  

Then I came back into work after having a sick day (thanks migraines) and I thought everything was fine until my boss asked me to come to his office. We sat down and he told of things that I was already aware of. The jobs had slowed down. Clients who had promised us a years worth of work had reneged. 

I was being made redundant.  

Now look. While I might agree that my job had become redundant and I didn’t really think I needed to be there full time, I also wasn’t really looking for anything to change. Then I got fired. Sorry. Made redundant.  

I’ve been told by various members of my family that I need to stop saying I got “fired” because I didn’t get “fired”. Fired implies I did something wrong. Thankfully for my anxiety I asked if I was being let go because of something I did and the answer was a resounding no from everyone. There was just no work and they were cutting costs wherever they could.  

Being made redundant and being fired feel awfully similar though when you’re driving home with a bag full of the stuff you’ve slowly brought into work to make your desk feel like your own. 

I started doing some book keeping for a friend’s business and taking care of things around the house, I was comfortable in the fact that I was at least getting paid out and had a bit of time before I needed to stress about money.  

Then I got a message from a pregnant friend, days away from going on maternity leave. The person her work had hired to do her maternity cover was not working out. Six weeks in and they weren’t picking up the job. Did I want to meet with her boss for an interview? 

It was a very clandestine affair. We met for coffee, I tried not to let my chaotic side show, he glanced through my resume and asked if I could start the next day.  

Within three days I had gotten the lay of the land and was ready to wreak havoc.  

Now some might think that I got comfortable a bit quickly. 

I might agree, if I didn’t get along with these people like a house on fire. My first interaction with the operations manager was him calling me by the wrong name and me doing it back to him. By the end of my first full week our camera tech had hugged me and I had hidden tiny rubber ducks around the office, one of them with the operations managers picture taped to it.  

I’d like to thank Amazon for having next day delivery and thusly providing me with the opportunity to number and hide 50 rubber ducks in a timely and cost effective manner.  

I’d also like to shout out to my fellow office plebs for their participation in the duckalypse.  

You see the operations and branch manager were across the country for a three-day conference which gave me the perfect opportunity to do this. And yes, I’m aware, I’d only been there for a week at that point. Branch manager shouldn’t have told me to go all out and show my true colours from the get go. Honestly he’s only got himself to blame for there being green ducks in the fake plants.  

In saying that, I don’t think he finds the ducks as amusing as everyone else in the office does.  

And this is Maurice 

He wears the face skin of his fallen brethren as a warning to those who would oppose the Great Nation of The Ducks. The fallen shall not be forgotten but shall waddle forth into battle with those who remain. 

It was after Maurice’s fallen brother’s head was thrown at me that I decided to call in reinforcements.  

 

Now these will definitely be easier to spot. 

However, and just go with me on this one, aren’t they kind of fucking great? 

Would a random duck showing up in your day not give you a chuckle? Would it not bring you a small spark of joy? 

If the answer is no, then you are far too joyless to sit with us today. You will be invited back when you have donned your whimsical costume. 

And as a final parting message to reassure anyone who thinks that I settled in a bit quickly, this is what was in my day planner when I opened it up my first day.