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Being the BIG MAN at work (part one)
by Victorian Guy
Brothers,
Are you the BIG MAN at your place of employment?
Well I, for one, am just that.
Two days ago, while dining on smoked pacific salmon, my father began another anti-bodybuilding tirade. "You're 32 years old, for God's sakes, and what have you been doing since you graduated from university? Transforming yourself into a grotesque monstrosity! Well, it's past time you found a job. Therefore, I have had a word with an acquaintance at the Bank of England, and you start tomorrow!" he roared.
Normally I would have flipped over the table and ran out screaming, but I merely smiled and sat back in my chair. "So be it" I said calmly, then took a fourth helping of salmon.
Oh, I'd go to work, of course. And get myself fired!
Those pencil necks were going to get a full dose of my muscle persona!
The next morning Nobby, the chauffeur, whisked me to the tall glass building I'd be working in. He carried my duffle bag, full of the essentials: that day's meals, tubs of protein powder, and several boxes of protein bars to snack on while I walked about the office.
I was shown my cubicle, and Nobby dumped the duffle bag down then lumbered off, tossing aside a thin little man in a suit who got in his way.
The department chief, Mr. Bagsby, called me into his office. I could barely fit through the door due to my unfeasibly wide shoulders, and I sat down in a chair in front of his desk and put my feet up on it. "Well then, let's get this over with quick, I'm due a protein shake. So what the bloody hell do you want me to do?" I snarled.
Mr. Bagsby was a small, frail little man of about 60, and he nervously sat in his chair, with a very worried look on his face. "I'd like you to work with two others on the foreign exchange operations of the South African central bank....and report back in one week with information on their recent trading in the Zambian dollar" he said softly.
"Sure, Bags old boy- I won't let you down!" I snarled, then got up, grabbed a handful of Cuban cigars from the open box on his desk, shoved them into my breast pocket, and walked out doing 'the walk'- lats spread, shoulders out, arms flexed.
I stopped as soon as I was out the door, narrowed my eyes, and scanned the office floor. A sea of faces were looking up from their desks at me, looks of fear in the eyes of each and every one of the wimps. I lit up a Cuban cigar, and chomping it between my teeth, slowly walked back to my cubicle, lats spread wide.
Next stop- the staff kitchen. I lumbered in, opened the refrigerator, and tipped it over, spilling the contents onto the floor. I then loaded it up with my meals for that day, and when I was done, only half of what was on the floor would fit back in, so I threw the rest out.
I was introduced to the people I'd be working with- a woman and a man, who looked over my massive frame with looks of concern before holding out trembling hands for me to shake. I gave each of them a firm shake, and they felt the crushing power of my grip. "Nice arse on that bird, eh?" I commented to the man as the woman left our presence.
I would soon be fired with this behavior, I thought smugly. Then I could resume my life of sleeping half the day, eating, and training!
End of part one
Be sure to check back next month for the next installment in this series by Victorian Guy. For more information on VG's work check out some of his previous articles in IronLife Online Magazine, by clicking on the below underlined hyperlinks.
-Gave away my USED SYRINGES!!
- Banned from the dojo!!
- The Art of Motivation
- Inspirational People
* Article by Victorian Guy.
* Back to This Issue's Frontpage
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