“Can we arrange a meeting?”


“Because we need to have a talk.”

“ok, lets talk.”

Diva, who at that very moment was on all fours unplugging her blackberry charger from the socket under her desk, gave a quick snigger. And then tried to disguise is as a sneeze.

Bitch turned crimson. To her credit she held her head high and pushed her shoulders back.

“I’ll send you a meeting invite.” She murmured, staring at the space above my head, before stalking out of the office.

Diva and I dissolved into giggles.

The thing that I quickly realised about Bitch is that she absolutely loves the book.

You know, the book that most people never read. The book that most decent bosses throw out of the window and adopts the “happy employee” method.

Not Bitch. Oh no, Bitch monitors everything.

She actually checks the swipe-card time list. You know that swipe card that enables staff to enter the premises. The one that most people believe has been given to us for “security reasons”. A week ago I found out that it actually clocks you in and out and records the exact time.

My heart sunk a little. Not too much, mind you. I mean there’s no law to say that you can’t pretend you’re going to the bathroom when your really sprinting to the Slug to check the score is there?

Besides I’m a grown professional woman. I have the human right to walk where I please.

She’s supposed to be managing campaigns but she acts more like an office manager. None of the major decisions are ever run by her. I’ve been told that most campaigns are executed without any clearance from her at all.

Occasionally she has a spaz moment where she tries to show how “fun” and “involved” she can be:

“Hi guys” quick dance “what are we doing tonight? It’s Friday. We should go to the pub after work.”

The awkward silence after such a display is embarrassing! Then whoever’s in the room at that time does the my-shoe-has-a-scuff-that-i’ve-only-just-noticed glance. Or my-nail-varnish-has-the-tiniest-chip.

The silence is usually followed with a quiet “I’ve got plans with the family, the husband, the wife, the kids, the cat, the dog, the neighbour” (delete where appropriate)

Anyway, yesterday Bitch had something in particular that she wanted to talk to me about. For one juvenile second my mind flicked back to the occasion where Diva and I made an “appointment” to see the creative agency and actually went to Dorothy Perkins instead.

The panic was followed by the need to laugh hysterically. This isn’t school! Besides, no one can prove anything. Our work is never compromised by a sale. In fact we work harder as a result of the deceit.

So after Bitch send me an appointment request via outlook, I sent her an acceptance and met with her at 2:30.

“I’d like to discuss how you’re getting along.” She began with a cold professional smile.

I smiled back “I’m getting along very well.”

“Any problems?”


“Settling into the role?”



Awkward silence.




“I have another meeting booked in.”

“Ok. See you.”


I bumped into Quiet Guy in the corridor.

“How was your probation meeting?” He asked with a grin

“That’s what that was??”

“Yeah. i swear she used to work in Londis.”


“Yeah I know. She’ll write out ‘no problems so far’ on her sheet under every question and send it to HR.”


“Yeah. HR will send you a letter to say you passed your probation.”


“Yeah like I said, Londis.”