Musical Chairs

The music would stop and one of us would once again become the office bad monkey, and in my world of paranoia, I always suspected it was me. This was mainly due to the fact that it was usually most likely to be me and even at the grand old age of approaching fourty, I was still quite an accomplished office idiot.

Perhaps that's why I considered myself to be the magnet, it was a self serving set of behaviours of not conforming to what was expected, attracting (mostly bad) judgement all the time, perhaps it was a form of attention deficit disorder, because after I'd completed my quota of work, I just enjoyed disruption.

This backfired many times, as my distraction would creep into my work, sometimes with catastrophic results in the check cycle, my boss would take my work home with him, check it over and mark, or tag, the pages that needed to be updated or corrected.

Sometimes, what resulted, was the well feared "killer" tag.

A little post it note, indicating that a very early report assumption was in error, an error that would cascade through subsequent reports. It was usually an error in the loads report, and that would jumpspark to the internal loads generation, and if I'd been efficient, even into the limit and ultimate strength analysis reports.

When that happened, thems was true bad monkey times.