So then...

About Me

Welcome to my blog. My pen name is Eva James. I'm an aspiring writer paying the bills working as a legal secretary. Relentlessly bullied by my former boss, I looked for another job but the recession hit. Feeling trapped, I recorded everything in this blog, which serves as a revealing insight into workplace bullying. WEEK 1 starts the story and, as the weeks progress, you'll note what starts as banter soon spirals out of control. Sadly, it's all true. Whilst along the way I've found alternative employment, my passion for blogging about workplace bullying remains. Trevor Griffiths, legendary theatre, TV and film writer said at the outset, "I like the writing a lot: smart, cool, placed. If you were prepared/able to take your prick of a boss on, you'd marmelise him."

Wednesday, 8 December 2010

WEEK 119 Christmas Cracker

Getting more and more panicky about the work Christmas party, I thought it best to have a chat with my boss and explain I couldn’t go. He knows I get nervous sometimes. I apologised and, again, said it had nothing to do with my new firm.

“What if you knew you had a friend going?” he asked.

OLLIE’S secretary has accepted the job. I instantly felt better. Even though she didn’t witness what I went through at the last Christmas party (having been bullied out months prior) she hadn’t been surprised to hear the jokes I’d been subjected to. There were so many jokes at my expense, I recorded only a handful in last year’s Christmas party blog. There were gems I left out, such as my taking my place in my best party dress as HOWARD told people:-

“Appearance wise - she’s the equivalent of a street van burger. Okay from a distance but close up its disgusting, the fat content makes you feel nauseous and you’re forever sorry you ever went near it.”

He’d also gone through a production persuading people to swap seats because he couldn’t eat whilst looking at me. Apparently - I put him off his food.

Thinking it was hilarious, a property lawyer exchanged chairs with him.

That’s why I didn’t want to go to the Christmas party. I’ve more than paid my dues in respect of pretending I’m having a good time when, inside, I want the ground to swallow me up. But there’s something about Christmas; and there’s something about goodwill to all men and all that jazz. I’m going to try and put it behind me. I told my new boss I’ll give it a go.

I’m just praying the only bad jokes I hear this year are pulled from crackers.

Best wishes


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