Back in the driving seat

I guess you've been wondering where I've been. Or maybe you haven't. The truth is that I enjoyed my Easter break a little too much and ended up falling over and hurting my ankle. I've been a bad-tempered bitch all week and so haven't felt like blogging much. Today's my first day back at work and it's not going well. The clueless bag that replaced me while I was away has been pissing everybody off by putting calls through to the wrong place, sending deliveries away and generally being an uptight spinster when it came to doing little favours for the bosses.

What she failed to understand is that to be a good Receptionsita you need to make yourself indispensable. I think the fact that I'm back in the chair while she was out scavenging for other temp work speaks volumes. The bosses are so pleased to see me that they said they'd buy me whatever I wanted from the deli. Aw.

So I'm back and there's lots to do. It's Friday, though, so I usually start winding down for the weekend- ooh- about now.

More next week when I've got my groove back.

Good Thursday

Because it's Good Friday tomorrow, half of the staff have been drifting off out of the door all afternoon and most of their bosses either never returned from lunch or didn't bother at all. All of those mini-breaks to places I've already been or have no desire to go can begin at last. I can hardly wait to hear all the tales of rip-off hotels, food poisoning and chi chi market bargains when they all get back.

I checked Le Boss's answer phone and had a sneaky listen to the message left by the previous receptionist yesterday. I needn't have worried- the poor bitch is obviously losing it. From what I heard from her whining pleas, her so-called extended sickness was actually instant dismissal for stealing, lying and being the shittest receptionist ever. So my position seems safe- for now. I left the message for him to hear.

I saw Sara, the embittered blonde, for the first time in a while today. She must have a stone up her arse about something, because I got nothing more than a growl from her. Perhaps she's upset because one of her former shags has been giving a LOT of attention to a new member of staff. He even took her out for a drink yesterday lunch time which is fast work because she's only been here a couple of weeks. And no, it's not me but another very lovely temp with legs that go on for decades. You go girl! Temp solidarity and all that. Anyway, poor embittered blonde is not a happy (Easter) bunny.

Le Boss swung by on his way out at midday and left me with a big Easter Egg and a lovely little card. I thought at first that he wanted to arrange this to be couriered to his wife but they are for me! How lovely. I wonder what the embittered blonde's boss got for her. I'd guess from the look on her face that whatever it was, it was sour.

Easter bunny boiler

As Easter approaches, office work slows down big time.

Because it's a four day weekend, all anybody talks about is what they're doing for Easter, all hopelessly trying to out-brag each other. So far I've heard about trips to Barcelona, Paris, Cannes, New York, Malta, the Algarve and a rather bizarre camping trip to-er- Kent. I'm not remotely interested in any of these details but I think somehow it makes them forget their otherwise dull existences to think that a receptionist might sit in awe and be impressed as they reel of itineraries that I wouldn't wish on a convicted serial killer.

I've been getting quite settled here now, though. I've been here for a couple of weeks and so am on first name terms with the delivery guys and regular callers, which is actually nice in a familiar kind of way. It was annoying, then, to receive a call from the girl I replaced to speak to my boss. I'd been told that she'd been sacked by the powers that be, but this young lady didn't seem to think that was the case.

After grilling me for what seemed like hours on what my position was and who I'd spoken to, she insisted that she was on extended sick leave but would be returning much, much sooner than expected. "So," she said in a maliciously over-bright tone, "I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you."

"Oh, I won't," was my reply. "This chair's obviously more suited to a much larger frame, so I shan't be getting comfy any time soon, unless they replace the chair." She then rather shittily asked to speak to my boss and so I transferred her to his answer phone, which I know he hardly ever checks. In fact, he usually just gets me to go through the messages for him...

Pecking order

It's been a busy week so far. My relationship with the lazy cow has taken a turn for the worse- she caught me talking to one of the guys that she fancies (which is pretty much everything with a willy) and has started to freeze me out. It's not good to make enemies so early on, but I can handle this bitch so I'll just watch and wait and see how she strikes- and strike she will, believe me.

The guy I was speaking to is Rob- a really lovely guy who is a prince among twats in this place. As is the norm at new assignments, the fact that this guy doesn't have knuckles dragging on the floor and can do more than grunt means that I've elevated him to Office Sexgod status. This happens all the time and comes from hours and hours of sitting behind a PC on a not-very-comfy chair staring at everybody who comes in. You should see some of the dogs I have briefly daydreamed over. When you're starved of pretty men, you start to see other qualities in the mingers. Rob, however, isn't really a minger at all so he is a little bit worthy of his status. He's a nice guy and has a girlfriend and seems to take away on holiday a lot, from what I've heard. As is the law, his girlfriend will probably be a whiny, string-faced bitch with a bad attitude. I should break my rule and go to after-work drinks and see if she comes along- she sounds like the type that would.

In other news, the big boss's PA seems to have me pegged as being her PA, which is obviously a mistake. You can tell it's been a while since she had anyone to boss around and she loves the fact that she's PA to the grand chief by the way she swans about looking as if she's concentrating very hard on something- probably staying upright. Here's a wake-up call for you sweetheart, you may be a millionaire's girl Friday, but you're still just a glorified typist. At least I know my station in the office pecking order- I half expect this witch to come into work in a tiara.

Who's calling?

On Friday, most people leave early- sometimes they don't even come back from lunch. Your bog-standard Receptionista, though, isn't supposed to do that. She has to be manning that front desk, rain or shine. Most of the people who work here waste this early finish to go and drink in the pub with each other. Surely you'd want to get away from the pricks that have been doing your head in all week, not socialise with them! I guess they take the time to do all that fucking networking and bonding I'm always hearing about.

The phones are usually quiet on a Friday afternoon- you'll usually only get a few callers who are new to the game and have no comprehension that most offices do fuck all on a Friday afternoon and insist on speaking to some manager who's probably on his or her tenth G&T by now- either that or halfway round a golf course. It goes a bit like this:

Bored Receptionista: Hello (company name). How can I help?
Inexperienced Caller: Erm, hi, can I speak to your IT manager please?
BR (wise that the IC is just chancing it and doesn't have IT manager's name): May I know who's calling?
IC (attempting to conceal salesperson identity): Oh, it's just John returning his call.
BR (now on full alert because caller has a) said 'his' when referring to female manager b) been a bit cagey about his company name: We have several IT managers. Which one called you?
IC: Er, the senior manager. I forget his name.
BR: I'm afraid without a name I am unable to help you. I could leave a message with the IT department and see if the person who called you recalls the conversation and will call you back?
IC: ....
BR (taking this bitch right down): Sir?
IC (in a very small voice): Oh it's OK, I'll call back later.
BR: Very good sir.

Quite what he expects when he calls back is unknown. Usually a sales co just gets a different caller to ring in in the hope that the receptionist will get bored of the constant calls and connect them to the IT manager or whichever honcho they're after. They underestimate me though- I never get bored of toying with these chancers. Nothing gets dropped in your lap, guys. You want that lovely commission and a chat with the manager? You gotta work for it!