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So while I've been sitting here for the last hour or so mashing F5 on my list of current Network Incidents, waiting for something to go belly-up so I'd actually have something to do, I start to wonder if I can actually die from acute boredom. Staring blankly through my screen, absent mindedly talking to colleagues who one by one come up to me and asking the same mundane questions, most of which I'd answered mere hours before. Weird things start to happen.
Firstly, the lines between reality and imaginary are starting to blur. I grunt generic answers at people who ask silly questions, and I notice that my subconscious is starting to take over. Slowly, each of my colleagues are transforming into a large clocks of various sizes; arms pointing out to their sides, each showing roughly 3pm. Fuck, still 2 hours to go. Hmmm that thought was strangely distant. I watch my newly acquired workmate clock slowly ticking down. No, there's no ticking, more like there speaking in a strange meter. Oddly like a metronome. I wonder if they know this.
I think my F5 finger is starting to bleed, as it's feeling wet as I bring it back down. I don't feel any pain though. Unconsciously, my other hand brings the coffee mug to my mouth and I take a sip. As the bitter weak, generic brand corporate coffee swirls around my mouth, I'm reminded of that time my brother dared me to drink mop water. It's more that smell as you take a sip. Something that you can smell, even if you block your nose, like your mind goes strait to the foulest thing it remembers. I think I slopped some on my shirt, but I can't look down because my eyes are too dry.
I think I saw a flick of red on my Incident Monitoring page, but it was gone between refreshes. My co-worker must have picked it up. I can't see him, but I feel him. Like another sense of unnatural boredom over the partition. A boredom that man created himself. A boredom that exists only in the corporate life, between 9 to 5. If you walk around the city during lunch, you can see it in peoples eyes. A shadow waiting to be freed, a thousand screaming voices pleading to get out, to enjoy life. Begging not to go back to their fluorescent dungeon.
I sit here mashing F5. Not even looking at the page any more. I'm fair certain that if I stopped, I would drop dead. That button is the only reason I'm here. I've become so dependant on it, so used to it being there. It beats with my pulse. My boss is asking me half heartedly to take over an Incident. He has that look, like he's seeing his own boredom reflected in my eyes. I accept the job, even though I know it will only take 5 minutes. Something to do. Anything. I refocus, colours are coming back, I'm hearing sounds again. I'm still alive, if only for the next 5 minutes.
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Originally Posted by Taylor 
) I still think it is better than the slow brain deadening tedium of office life. On the days I have been forced to sit at a desk I never feel like I've woken up and by the time 2pm rolls around I am on edge and searching for excuses to get out and physically do something.
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