and In between the shuffling of papers, the lifting and slamming back down of the two direct lines to my desk (excessive, incessant) and the other, you know, actual corporate finance related grown up shit I’m expected to understand, I stare fixedly at the scruffy newcomers. And they look every inch your stereotypical fix-it type in their dirty overalls, hairy forearms and lad swagger as they scratch their short cropped heads caked in dust and shrug. “Big job”.
And I can’t help but feel a wave of half envy / half bitterness at this display of straight-lad-on-the-job masculinity because it’s the projected norm I’ve craved since I was 15.
HK's email stream about home furnishings, botox, whey protein, beauty queens and the capture of a gay slayer proves a welcomed distraction.