In Which My Boss Goes Insane.

We finally had our August staff meeting in work today (yes, we are a bit behind the times down here in the Colonies). Anyway, much ado was had about nothing, as per usual, and we had just approached the wrapping up stage and talking about bollocks stage...

Golden tech: "And our billets from England, they didn't know what pop was aye, bro?"

Me: "Don't be daft, everyone knows what pop is."

Golden Tech: "No, truuuuuue bro, I had to say a fizzy drink to them, aye bro?"

Me: "Nonsense, they probably didn't understand you. Hell, I don't understand you and I've been here a lot longer than they have. Besides, I'm not even from bloody England."

Boss: "Right, shut up TWP. Listen, this month, we're all supposed to be caring for each other. To accomplish this, you are all going to be assigned Care Bear characters, and at our next staff meeting, you can let us know how exactly you're cared for someone using your Care Bear character. Bewildered Scouser?"

BS: "Wor aye, Stevie G?"

Boss: "Do a Google search for Care Bears, and assign everyone a character"

Naturally, at this point, my jaw has literally hit the floor. Frankly, this is the most alien concept I have come across outside of a Lovecraft book. As team-building exercises go, it's a spectacularly bad idea.

Jaw agape, I scan the room for support. If we have to be characters from a crap kids cartoon, can't I at least become Optimus Prime. However, no support is forthcoming. The Bewildered Scouser is wise enough to keep his counsel to himself, while the fine womenfolk of Aotearoa get very excited about pretending to be a made-up character from a made-up 1980s cartoon.

God help us all.

Boss:"So TWP, what Care Bear do you want to be?"

Me: "Can I be Evil Motherfucker Sonuvvabitch Bear?

Boss: "No, you're Lovesalot Bear."

Working with a load of women sucks more than Jenna Jameson.