There is a kitchen area in work, just to the side of the large open plan office. On the counter top, you always find sundries, a large box of free fruit which is delivered daily, tea , coffee, sugar etc., charity collection boxes and occasionally, people leave free things. Magazines they’ve read, maybe a book or some such thing.
Last week, someone left a free nasal spray. It had a yellow sticker beside it saying ‘free – help yourself’. Not a new unused spray in a box, but a half used nasal spray. The questionable hygiene habits of some of my colleagues has always perplexed me, but a pre-loved nasal spray?? Who could have imagined such generosity existed in our midst.
Since then, the good people I work with have embraced this notion of sharing half used items. Yesterday morning, a half chewed packet of Halls menthol lozenges appeared, with the obligatory ‘free – help yourself – use sensibly’. In the afternoon, a half packet of tissues (actually cut in half).
What started out as a kind gesture, however questionable by the mystery nasal spray doner, has turned into an epic free for all of sharing half consumed items. I’ve decided to join in the frenzy of caring and sharing. My dilemma, I can’t decide whether to leave half a Q-tip or some left over corn plasters.
Office etiquette, the do’s and dont’s may be tricky to navigate. Riddled with pitfalls, office etiquette can see a perfectly nice day descend into nightmare.
I think it’s time to reveal Nifty’s guide to surviving the office.
When the CEO deigns to visit your office, hang on his every word nodding in agreement. Bask in the glow of his greatness, in manner of North Korean peasant in the presence of Kim Jong Un. Long may his wisdom continue to shine a light on your life. Flattery will get you everywhere including that next promotion.
Never chew gum. Ghastly habit. May lead to blowing bubbles and therefore the complete disintegration of civilised society.
Practice extreme health and safety. Insist on wearing protective goggles when using a stapler, a punch or indeed any office accoutrements.
Personal hygiene is of the utmost importance. If a colleague has his/her own personal pungent fragrance, he/she must be told in no uncertain terms to wash.
You may need to send an anonymous Deodorgram. Have a message included with the gift, the most popular one is (according to the manufacturers)“You’ve always been such a cute little stinker, now you can just be cute and little! Please enjoy this hard working natural deodorant sent to you from a caring friend”.
Do not put used coffee beans down the kitchen sink. This caused enormous problems in our office building, leading to what we now commonly refer to as ‘the great smell of 2014’.
Avoid sleezy comments. “Come into my office Miss Jones, I need you to take something down”. The use of the double entendre is perfectly acceptable at smart dinner parties, but knowing when to use shows nuance and versatility.
Ensure your desk is a disorganised mess. Colleagues will fear cross contamination and leave you in peace.
Always dress impeccably, casual Friday is all very well for the great unwashed, but to a domestic Goddess it means donning your Hermes scarf and Jimmy Choos. Remember, you are of a higher station, an inspiration to all and standards must be maintained.
Ensure the intern understands the pecking order.
Easter eggs, who could have imagined these sweet treats could have inspired such rivalry.
The weekend before Easter she would bring the goodies. With a selection of Buttons, Roses, Flake or Milk Tray eggs on offer we would surround her claiming ‘first pick’. Placed on display like a prized ornament they would adorn the shelf to be admired for a week. Only after mass on Sunday morning could they be opened. Very carefully (as the silver paper was to be saved) I would skilfully remove the foil, scoff the back of the egg, replace the foil so that it looked intact, untouched. This was all part of my game plan. The prize in this game of psychological warfare was to lord it over everyone else when you were the only family member with remaining chocolate. That done, the egg would be returned to the shelf to be admired again. After a couple of hours, myself and my sister would eye each other to see who would last the longest before returning for another bite of the cherry. If she gave in, I’d allow myself another piece. The egg at this stage no longer looked untouched, nevertheless it would be put back together again, returned to the shelf to be admired and the test of willpower would resume. Back and forth, taking smaller nibbles each time. Eventually, there would be a small piece left and I would sigh and declare “I’m sick of chocolate, I’m saving some for tomorrow”. This was obviously part of the act, it never lasted until tomorrow.
My brother always won this game. He was the undisputed king of self denial. He always had a piece left the next day so that he could wave it in front of us, taking smug to a whole new level. “Mmmm, don’t tell me yours is all gone”.
Even a Domestic Goddesses can have an off day when her crown slips. Never fear, Nifty is here with her top 10 tips, a few pearls of wisdom to restore your good spirits.
1. Take up a new hobby. Make diminutive rocking chairs from clothes pegs. Keep making until you have a whole peggy forest of rocking chairs. Be careful not to show your new hobby to family members as they may insist on you being institutionalised.
I don’t understand this aversion. A good quality feather stuffed cushion will add warmth and style to your sofa and what else can bring a room together like a well placed cushion. What’s not to love?. If your loved one complains, threaten to replace him with a cushion if he’s not careful.
4. challenge your verbal skills. Imaging lines that Elizabeth Bennett would deliver to Mr. Darcy in your remake of Pride and Prejudice. “Mr. Darcy, I am undone….”. Use words like ‘esteemed’,’tolerable’,’piano forte’ or ‘accomplished’.
5. Buy some new accessories. Accessories doth make’th the woman. It’s so difficult to find a good craftsman to restring your pearls. Buy some fake ones which will do for everyday wear. Teamed with your Hermes scarf (a must for any woman of consequence) no one will know the difference.
Before
After
8. Write a blog. My favourite thing of all, researching (yeah right!!) content for my blog. Not only great fun, but an excuse for everything. You’re not having a lie in on a Sunday morning, you’re researching your blog. Your late for something, you can say you’re carrying out crucial research for your blog. There’s no slippers and newspaper at the ready when your loved one comes home, again, essential blog research the culprit.
Don’t feel too bad, you’re in good company. A host of celebrities have been outed as suffering from the same affliction.
They were fine when I was twenty, but sadly have been in decline for some years now. I recently tried on a pair of boots which were tight around the calf. Beautiful rich soft suede leather with 4 inch heels, fit like a glove and very comfortable. Ecstatic at my find, I stepped over to the mirror to admire my choice of footwear. It was at that very moment I caught a glimpse of knee overflow. The tight calf’s seemed to compound this situation. My euphoria was short lived. I had what resembled a case of severe cellulite dimpling in the knee area. The white skin served only to highlight my ugly joint syndrome or Age Related Knee Deterioration which is I think the medical term. I don’t carry excess weight anywhere else(possibly deluded as well) so why God did you have to pick on the knees.
I’ve tried wearing ultra support tights popular with grannies everywhere. I’ve attempted fake tanning them to death leading to epic fake tan fail and orange hands. Exercise in the form of weights and cycling, I’m convinced made them worse. Massage, cabbage water diet, all to no avail. A friend has suggested contouring. I’m not prepared to set aside 3 hours daily for knee painting.
I have become accustomed to keeping them under wraps. I’m not concerned in the least. My knobbles will never see light of day again. My trendy skinny jeans will never give away my secrets.
Time to get those legs out. The glossy magazines have declared it so.
I never had a pair that fit. As one of six girls, the tights drawer was a mix of colours and sizes, you grabbed a pair while rushing to get ready for school. It was pot luck. We were all different sizes and ages, so you either ended up with a pair that were too small, which resulted in the gusset around your knees, or a pair too big, which resulted in the gusset around your knees. Either way, you ended up with a penguin like walk. Actually too small is slightly better as too big also resulted in the wrinkled folds drooping around the ankles. The Nora Batty look. No wonder I’m psychologically scarred.
I’m not suggesting you throw away said tights, rather find other uses for them. Remember, thriftiness is next to Godliness. Tights have many uses. I’ve put together a few suggestions.
Geography lesson. When you need to tell the difference between stalactites and stalagmites. Tights always hang down.
Straining fruit. When you’re not wearing your tights in Summer, use them to make raspberry coulis. Place fruit in the gusset, squeeze out the juice for a delicious raspberry concentrate. Use the juice to make cordial, coulis or drink it straight.
Draughts. Stuff the legs with newspaper and tie off to make draught excluders to sit at the base of a draughty door.
Disguise. I’m always promoting thriftiness. You can’t get more thrifty than holding up a bank. Pop a pair or tights on your head and you have the look. You’re half way there.
Wrinkle-free gift wrap storage: Store rolls of gift wrap paper in old tights, one roll per leg. and hang them in your wardrobe to keep paper neat and crease free.
Love: Give them to your loved one to wear under his trousers in the colder months. He’ll thank you for it when he’s pottering around the garage! Especially if it’s your old woolly ones!
Ahh!! St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin
When I was ten, St Patrick was a hero, the reason we had a day off school. The only downside was that it was a holy day of obligation which meant mass was required.
The parade was pretty sad by today’s standards. A procession of floats from local businesses and brass bands but the party atmosphere was always the draw. Somehow we’d manage to wiggle your way up to the front to get a look at the American cheerleaders who we thought were beyond fabulous. I would feel so sorry for them with their dazzling white smiles, freezing their butts off in star spangled outfits which showed way too much leg for our Artic temperatures. We were toasty in our newly knitted Aran sweaters.
This tradition, I repeated with my own kids when they were small, including sending them into the garden to find the shamrock. (I didn’t knit new Aran jumpers for them, even I’m not that perfect. My mother, their grandmother did).
In fairness, they kept their side of the bargain with the desecration of the sitting room sofa, and the destruction of the kitchen with green gunge.
Lets Pretend it’s Summer
Pretend it’s Summer. Living on an island where it rains for 365 days a year, any respite from the grey clouds, any glimpse of blue sky must be celebrated by stepping out and making the most of it. If by some freak of nature, we manage to get a couple of sunny days in the ‘Summer’ as a nation we join in the fun and frolics talking endlessly about picnics and sunburn. Sales of shorts and sun tops soar regardless of the fact that you will only get to wear them once.
Ever the optimist, I recommend that you do a I do, join in the frenzy of buying barbeques, straw hats, beach umbrellas, factor 50 sun screen. If by the time you arrive home with your treasures the sun has disappeared (which is highly likely) you may have to play the lets pretend game. Follow these instructions and I guarantee satisfaction. You will be transported from your dull cloudy day to a tropical South Seas beach.
Get out your old Wham records and sing along to Club Tropicana.
Sip homemade lemonade, suck on a cool pop or better still, have Himself bring you a Pimms on Ice. I find the alcohol encourages enthusiastic participation in this little role play.
While lounging back, have Your loved one (dressed in a toga obviously) drop grapes into your mouth.
Complain about the sand in your sandwiches.
Mother’s Day, or Hallmark Day as I call it. A celebration for domestic Goddesses across the globe. Although I’ve always been a bit cynical about these special occasions, I wouldn’t let that get in the way of milking it for all its worth. If your loved ones ask what you want for Mother’s Day, smile sweetly and reply something along the lines of “Oh nothing, don’t go to any expense on my account, it’s the thought that counts”.
While my little cherubs are practically perfect in every way(obviously they take after me) they do sometimes need a little nudge to ensure they honour this momentous occasion.
Start off with a healthy dose of guilt. Cheerfully regale them with tales of nappy changing, sleepless nights and chauffeuring duties. It helps lay the groundwork for the onslaught to follow.
Reminisce about how devoted a daughter you were to your own mother on Mother’s day. How you brought her breakfast in bed, on a tray with the morning paper (ironed of course). Tell of the warm glow you were rewarded with from giving on Mother’s day.
Ahh!! The Eighties Blockbuster
My expertise in the book department extends to the fact that I read. Growing up, there was no shortage of books left lying around the house by my five older sisters. They were well thumbed, in fact probably diseased by the time I got them. It would take more than a few congealed crumbs or tea stained pages to put me off. A large portion of the books adorning our shelves were old fashioned, but I didn’t care. Swallows and Amazons, Just William, mouldy books that had been stuck on the shelf for years, I’d read them anyway, when I’d finished the Jackie.
There was a library in school which we wouldn’t be caught dead in due to the overly religious theme to all of the books, beyond boring as all the characters had halos.
The eighties blockbusters novels. Passed around to all and sundry. While there wasn’t as much choice, at least this meant that everybody read the same books and you could discuss and dissect with your friends the finer details of the predictable plots which were without exception driven by lust, love and revenge. Always formulaic, innocent girl (beautiful of course) meets powerful hero, throw in a quirky friend and a slimey playboy called Dimitri.
Where would any domestic Goddess be without a good book to lend a touch of fantasy to her hum drum existence.
I’ve just discovered the earth shattering truth that whole milk is less fattening than the skimmed variety. Something to do with the way sugars are absorbed. All these years of deprivation for nothing. In light of this revelation I may even change my morning Americano for a Latte. This seismic change to my routine makes me question everything. After all, your choice of coffee speaks volumes about who you are.
You are deeply shallow. You probably also like to wear labels emblazoned across your chest. FCUK t-shirts and Burbury handbags. If you are travelling in Italy, never order a cappachino in the afternoon. This is exclusively a morning beverage, and drinking it at any other time would be considered both ignorant and tacky. According to research carried out by the Irish Coffee Council, you are a people pleaser. However, the upside is that shallowness is not necessarily a personality flaw. Being of a shallow disposition myself, I cannot cast aspersions on those of you who are like minded.
The manly kind of coffee. You like to hit your woman over the head with a club and drag her back to your den to make your espresso for you. If you are a straight woman ordering a tripple espresso, you may want question your sexuality.
The type favoured by tradesmen. A mug of Nescafe and an all-day breakfast roll is your only man.
Decaf lovers are subversives. They like nothing more than a good protest. Can been marching with placards saying ‘Down with that sort of thing’. Along with vegans and fruitarians, the decaf brigade should be rounded up and transported to Van Demons land for crimes against civilised society.
NiftyFiftyShades 