Stepford Employee gets an Eyeful

I have to pop into our "temporary" departmental home pending our office move. Only one problem - I haven't a clue where it is !!

Ex-Army Man elects not merely to give me clear orientation instructions and a compass, but to show me the way personally. I thank him sweetly for his consideration, while knowing full well that his enthusiasm is motivated by nothing more than yet another attempt to demonstrate his indispensability to New Boss.

I am beginning to think that if Ex-Army Man crawls any further up New Boss's fundament, we shall have to send out a search party for his retrieval ! Most normal people would eschew such blatant toadying and obsequiousness; but Ex-Army Man seems oblivious to the fact that his fawning is causing his co-workers to cringe in shame for him.

He ushers me into the partitioned cubbyholes which comprise our temporary offices, and proceeds (loudly) to give me a guided tour. Frankly, I would rather grope my way blindfolded towards our office equipment than have Ex-Army Man portentously informing me “this is the printer”, but like a good Stepford Employee I say “thank you sooo much” before turning to see if the coast is clear of Jackals.

Oh. Most strange. The only other inhabitants of our temporary offices at this moment are the Decent People – Continental Colleague, Maternal Colleague, Private Colleague. But the room is completely silent.

This has started happening more and more. Silence never used to be a feature of our department. Colleagues used to chat freely and happily upon a range of subjects – their holidays, their new sofa, who they thought would win “The Apprentice”. But now? It is like I have been parachuted into a totalitarian regime where everyone is scared to speak lest their neighbour betray them.

(I do not count the Jackals of course. The Jackals make a LOT of noise – because they have positioned themselves as the Stasi….)

Instinctively I lower my voice as I say hello to the Decent People individually. I need their help to complete a document and email it through to meet a deadline, and their decency shines through as they help me – readily, generously and efficiently. But very VERY quietly, while I scan their lowered heads and lowered eyes; and wonder what the f*** has happened to these lovely colleagues.

I don’t stay long, as the atmosphere is frighteningly oppressive. But as I exit the temporary office, New Boss is arriving on the other side of the door. Unlike the Decent People, he is loud. Loud, arrogant and overbearing.

“How are you?” he asks me, in the tone of voice which brooks no weakness and dares me to answer “I am feeling completely crap”.

At this point in time, I am suffering a slight resurgence of anxiety symptoms (chest pains, breathlessness) as well as still being on medication for my mild labyrinthitis.

“Fine, thank you,” I tell him. “I am feeling absolutely fine”.