The in-office flower arrangements get caught up in the middle of power games.
"No-one can save CYCLAMEN!!" - screamed the boss yesterday morning in a fit of excitement/anger (difficult to tell the difference).
In a bid to recover from the stress of the Dolce & Gabbana heist - the office for the last few weeks (only) has temporarily forgotten their designer labels in favour of floral tributes instead. In a bizarre twist, flowers (not purchased on expenses or from celebrity stylists) have begun to appear on desks and window ledges as if mourning the loss of our beloved notepads ( no-one seems to miss the P.C's ). The worst hit have been those that lost blackberries and have yet to return to work, unable to imagine the working day without one.
Anyway, back to florals. The plant of the moment is Cyclamen - a species apparently in need a very cool environment during the day (I too tend to opt for cool during the day and warm at night). When it comes to the evening however - it seems the men of the office have a very different take on what a cyclamen needs at night.
Boss One - Personally placed the cyclamen on a window ledge outside and stated it should remain there including over night. Translation: "I take no prisoners and believe wholeheartedly in no pain, no gain".
Later in the morning Mr.G's brother stopped by - also offering his suggestion on the plight of the cyclamen. He is of the belief the plants should be brought in at night and left in a cool place such as the staircase. Translation: "Nothing goes unnoticed by me in this office, but underneath it all I'm a caring, sharing type".
Finally, Boss Two came by (and at this point both I and the plants were exhausted by the various orders), suggesting the cyclamen stay outside in the cool, however are brought in at night and should never be placed in the direction of the air-con and that also we need to consider what to do with them at weekends. Translation: "I am a perfectionist and so must you be".
After considering an accidental slip of the elbow just to get rid of the immediate threat of the cyclamen - I am now trapped in a political mine-field of what to do at the end of every day with the bloody cyclamen and have started to imagine what life may feel like at the United Nations - damned if you, damned if you don't.
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