"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

Whoever invented 'team building' should be indicted for crimes against humanity
12:55 p.m. on 2004-07-16

Ever feel like screaming your head off, and running down the road naked, and not stopping until you reach the cliffs? And maybe not even then?

Mm.

'Twas our works day out yesterday. Our 'unit day out.' Of which I had heard many bad things, and it did not bode well that of our group, only four people actually attended (all the others made sneaky excuses).

Cue hour long coach ride to Southport, where, inevitably, it was persisting it down. Plans - to play hit the squirrel with a frisbee at Formby nature reserve, or something - were abruptly changed, and we ended up at a bowling alley where the sole employee looked at is sulkily and annouced that there were no shoes left, so we'd just have to bowl in our heels/walking boots.

Our team was, inevitably, the worst, and possibly the least enthusiastic. Sloping off early, the four of us headed out to Southport pier - a curiousity in itself since it stretches out for miles and yet the only water it ever crosses is a marina - to sit down on the benches and imagine our retirement. All that was missing was our fish and chips wrapped in paper.

Eventually caught by the others unit members, we headed out to town, stopped at a hall of mirrors where we were mugged by a group of eight year olds, to then be lured in by the siren call of flashing lights and loud music from the nearby arcades. None of us were big spenders, although Katy and Lizzy made a token effort by getting plastic buckets to put their two pence coins in. I made a profit of 20p and decided to call it quits before the habit cost me my house.

The picnic was held indoors, at the drama hall of a local (posh - what sixth form has automatic glass doors?) college. As is the rule, each person had brought enough food to feed all thirty of us, leaving us with a banquet that could probably have wiped out Third World hunger in one go. The food was nice, I chatted to some people I haven't before, eyed up a pony-tailed scientist who reminded me of Lenin - until he opened his mind and revealed his complete lack of SA - accidentally insulted a guy's mother when I claimed my fairy cakes were better than hers, and tried to avoid the watchful eyes of our group boss.

Like that ever works.

Cue the party games. Imagine, if you dare, twenty five people (their numbers decreasing as people snuck out) sat in a big circle, half their number scientists, half bored clerical staff wondering what the hell they were doing there. Everyone reminding themselves that, at the very least, they were getting paid to be here.

Our boss is a little, um, enthusiastic. We launch into a game which really only succeeds if people are drunk and, ideally, eager to participate. Water pistols were involved. And grown men trying to be the life of the party by making crass jokes and laughing loudly. Only no one was laughing with them. One individual, who shall be named: "Wanker", only impressed upon me my first thoughts of him - that he's an overly intelligent bloke with crap interpersonal skills, who looks smug even when something is being explained to him, as though: "I know you think I wasn't aware of what you're talking about before, but I really was, and am merely humoring you for my own entertainment."

Just as the game ended and we thought the evil was done, another game began, and into the next circle of hell we went. And so on and so on, until (thank god) the bus arrived to take us home.

A two hour journey home, sat behind our bosses (so we couldn't slag them off) and in front of the irritating 'life of the party' group, who were now shit-faced.

Managed to make my bus for the hour journey home, and collapsed onto my bed only for my sister (who has just returned from her hols) to parade herself around the room. Leggy, blonde, big breasted, and now very tanned, Bryony is gorgeous. She's lovely too, very intelligent, which makes it all the worse. She had armfuls of new clothes, almost entirely a shade of Barbie Pink, which perfectly showed off her Page 3 body. She'd bought me an ankle bracelet as a present, which is lovely - except I'm not sure what shoes I'm going to wear it with, since I'm completely shite at wearing anything which doesn't wrap around my ankle. Still, I now have an excuse to try.

You ever get that feeling that no matter what you do, no matter what attempts you make to improve yourself or to shape yourself in a certain direction, everything just inevitably collapses, and you're left back at stage one?

If I was a colour, I'd be grey. Occasionally I'll make an attempt to be red, or green, or blue, but like those old knickers that you bought from M&S far too long ago, I'll always return to that same shade of grey. Comfortable, safe, but ultimately boring.

Listening to: Joss Stone

Quote: "Eventually it dawns on you. You'll never be a Seventeen girl. Because they don't allow air-brushing in real life."

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