Keeping mum

And so Donna's raison d'etre becomes clear- her mum works here. As somebody commented on the blog the other day "The corporate empire would crumble if it weren't for the mortar of nepotism" and it seems it's true. Fuck.

Donna's mum is a thoroughly nasty piece of work called Jeanette or Jeannie to her friends- i.e. nobody. She's tasteless, tattooed and tedious and I'm shocked that she even got a job here. She's obviously been here for years and works –surprise- in personnel. She's too disagreeable for words, so let's not waste any more on her here. All I'll say is that it's obvious where Donna got her lack of brains, class or beauty. She's her mama's daughter, alright. They'd make magnificent gargoyles.

Four days in and I've spotted my Office God. In every job I get, I find a new victim for one of my hopeless and usually temporary crushes. By being surrounded by munters all day, you suddenly begin to find the oddest men appealing. Our lucky contestant this time on Blind Date is called Matthieu and oui, oui, oui, he's French. He looks very French but in a good way and to be honest the accent had me before I even looked up from my desk to see those dark eyes glinting at me. He's a junior partner and specialises in entertainment law which sounds exciting but in reality is negotiating crap like how big Jordan's allowed to have her tits- well not quite but it's all very mundane or so he was telling me. He's quite fit but not as gorgeous as I'm giving him credit for. I saw a better looking guy behind the fag counter at Tesco last night. What Matthieu does know how to do is dress. Suit dry-cleaned to perfection, crisp white shirts and understated, expensive ties. Nice one.

He also appears to be Donna's Achilles Heel- she practically slipped off her seat when he came over to say hi- so this could be my 'in' to getting her off the desk. Mind you, while Jeannie the bulldog is around looking she's trying to shit out a tampax wrapped in razor blades, I'm going to have to watch my step.