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With Sexy Results

They let me out of the attic yesterday. I’ve graduated from data entry. They let me file things now.

Since the office is so ridiculously tiny, they are forced to store their documents in this weird garden shed in the car park. They call it the Sin Bin, and it’s stuffed to the gills with files and boxes and ye olde office chairs.

So out I went with the filing pile and my headphones, from one confined space to another. My brain must be shrinking the longer I spend here, because I seem to derive great happiness and satisfaction from menial tasks. I was in the airless room for an hour, putting the enormous pile of records into numerical order, stuffing them inside their correct folders, all the while bellowing along to Radiohead.

Through the tiny window I watched the pensioners shuffling by with their yappy dogs, the parking inspectors on the prowl. A weedy lad was on the way home from Tesco. He looked around to make sure noone was around, then proceeded to do bicep curls with his loaded shopping bags as he walked. I cackled away, before remembering that I used to do that, and wondered if some sicko in a shed had been watching me too.

Then it rained, in that way that Scotland has a habit of doing. The sun had been sashaying around all morning, just long enough to make you think it was going to be a nice day, then suddenly it’s grey and chucking down again. So I stayed another half hour and had a little snooze.

It’s a pity this job finishes up on Friday, just when I am getting to like that shed. Someone could make it into a reality TV show. The concept would be simple: Ewan McGregor and I get locked inside the Sin Bin for ten weeks. They’d have to screen it late at night.

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


17 thoughts on “With Sexy Results

  1. That sounds like a great reality show. I would definitely watch. You should have some option where viewers can become part of the show – in the case that you get exhausted or start suffering from scurvy or something.

  2. I did that with bags from Sainsbury’s. Oo yeah.

    Seriously, Shauny, try that cereal. Your life will never be the same again.

  3. im a cereal killer…. B?P

    a cute one tho … but you should have seen me in a suit for the interview! hehe

    at last… a real live shaunybear.. strawberry blonde and her own captured haggis… (they struggle n kick out if you dont pick ’em up right!)

    i can just see you persuading R to eat it…

    B?) B?) B?) B?)

  4. Waaaaait a minute, Shorners, why are there only five smileys when there were SIX comments before yours? Hrm?

  5. Sometimes, being under-employed at no-brain tasks is fun, isn’t it?

    Though being in a cramped, airless place listening to radiohead (even early radiohead) seems likely to lead to a baaaad, baaad place.

    License that TV concept woman, I can see the program guide entry now –

    “The Shed”: over 10 steamy weeks watch Shauny reduce Ewan McGregor to a quivering, boneless bowl of man-jello.

  6. I always have fantasies about running away with him to Amsterdam, like he does at the end of Trainspotting.

    Although running away with a junkie doesn’t really seem so wise, he *is* trying to make a new start, and let’s face it- he’s Ewan MacGreogor!

  7. i wouldn’t say boneless, doug.

    i can’t believe i wrote that.

    should be signing up for a phone line this week… wheeeee! more soon!

  8. Well, aren’t we all the sentimental lot? At least we’re not in previous ages when you had to wait for another letter back from the person you wrote to to know if they even got the letter. By the time you sent your next letter, they could have been dead or moved by unforseen circumstances (war, wild animals, food shortages, flooding, Wild Shaunys, etc.). So count your blessings you have email and instant messaging and phones (well, soon for you Shauny =P ).

  9. I think there’s a girl in a shed for everyone, watching us do our silly little things, smiling at our hidden vices, listening to radiohead.

  10. I find the carpark between Coles and home is the perfect thing for bag-curling. Unfortunately, they don’t look on bench-pressing your groceries with quite as much indulgence.

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