“So, how was your day at work?”
“Well; we all dressed in black, wore white roses, and then went to the pub, in order to mourn a dead monarch famous (or infamous) for being a loser/murderer/misrepresented victim.”
Definitely the most bizarre occurrence since I started working here.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally on board with the idea of fun in the workplace, a relaxed and engaging atmosphere, and strong team relationships (and let’s face it, I’m not going to complain about spending an hour and fifteen minute lunch break sat in the sunny pub beer garden, having drinks bought for me). But there’s no way to contextualise today’s happenings to outsiders; in the same way that it’s impossible to prepare newbies for their first encounter with the office porter.
It’s all about context. And the beauty of today was, at no point did it bother me that other people might wonder what on Earth was going on. In fact, I quite enjoyed observing the reaction of the bloke sat nearby, who stared at our wake, and then stumbled towards the bar with a look of bemusement/confusion etched across his face.
I’d much rather work somewhere with character and personality, as opposed to a bland corporate office full of disenfranchised, miserable & superficial individuals.
Do I have strong feelings about the sovereignty and historical representation of the last Plantagenet? No. Did that matter? No. Did I think it was worth joining the collective randomness? Yes.
Today tapped into everyone’s inner eccentric self, that part of us which doesn’t care whether people think we’re different.
So, not only did I raise my glass of lemonade to the memory of Richard III, but also to the joy of non-conformity. Long may it continue.
(Having said all that, we were bullied into wearing black under threat of death, and I’m writing this during the dying days of fashion freedom, before a new dress code is foisted upon us. Oh well, as long as I get a free drink out of it, I’ll do anything. My needs are simple. And if you want cogent, considered thought, go and read Aristotle or whoever. I’m more Katona than Kant…)