Well, despite my premonitions of an awful interview, I have recently been successful in getting my filthy homosexual mitts on a management position.

Oh. My. Lord. Yes. All you people out there in taxpayer-land should be quaking in your boots. I will actually have responsibility for stuff. Scary, huh.

Anyway, I feel I have some way to go before properly qualifying as public service middle management. I mean, I have been working on my evil laugh, but so far, all I have got is a malevolent guffaw. I will also have to work on being petty, oppressed and reactionary. But, I’m still young, there’s time for me yet.

Give me 3 months and I reckon I’ll be there.

Rather than focussing on the monumental (and, just between you and me, freakishly terrifying) challenges that the job poses, I have, of course, been focussing on more important things.

Such as the fact that I shall be getting an office – yes, a 3m x 3m fish bowl domain to call my own. *Malevolent guffaw*.

And then there's my inconsolable fear of turning into David Brent. It’s gotten to the stage where I’m worried that if at any stage I do anything that might intentionally result in the people in my team liking me I’ll sprout a pot-belly, a grotesque goatee and creepy overbite.




In the interests of working on my pettiness, I’ve also been compiling a list of nasty things that my previous managers have done to me, for the purposes of taking revenge by acting them out on my fresh, new minions.

If someone pops their head into ‘my office’ (spew, I already feel like a wanker) to say goodbye at the end of the day, my response will be to not to look up from my work and to just make some form of dismissive grunt, such as “uhh” or “nnn”. Definitely no eye-contact or actual words.

If I have some papers or work for my staff to do I’ll just throw it at them on my way past without stopping or saying anything.

If caught out being late on a deadline in front of a senior manager, I’ll just lie and say that I’d sent the work to one of my staff who has failed to do it – in front of that staff member!

If I have staff that do an earlier set of hours than me (ie, get in at 8, leave at 5), I’ll saunter in at 9.45 and then big-note myself for staying later than everyone when I stay back, just to do my hours. I’ll also make sure to drop hints and comments to my staff suggesting they are slackers for leaving at 5, regardless of how early they got in.

Everything will be below me, including reading basic instructions and circulars – instead I’ll just bellow loudly to my team asking them really stoopid questions that I could answer myself if I bothered to scroll down all the way through an email.

I’ll take 3-hour lunches during busy periods, just because I can.

I’ll spend 2 hours each morning joking around lamely with my team trying desperately to get them to like me, while back in my office are 15 urgent things I need to look at – then, at the end of the day, when the poo hits the fan, I’ll get my team to stay back late to help me get those 15 urgent things done in time.

And that’s just the stuff I didn’t have to have repressed memory therapy for.

The best part is that now the LovelyWife and I are both filthy, stinking bourgeois middle-management! How good is that. Come the revolution, we'll be first up to the gallows, no doubt.

Better yet, we'll both now have staff to whinge about to each other..."and then, I made her cry again when I told her I was going to fire her tomorrow if she didn't alphabetise my paperclips - hahahahahahaha!"

I say we should fight them and see who wins.

Although, my money would be on her mob – by the sounds of it, a couple of her team could easily be characters on My Name is Earl, whereas I think my team are more likely to be characters from, well, The Office.

And people doubted me when I said I was moving to Canberra to join the public service. Just look at what I have achieved...