Tag: office

football at my desk

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office sketch 042723

Well, the football season has ended. Ok, not all of it, there are still European finals and FA Cup finals and another round of games in some leagues where the title has already been decided, but as far as I’m concerned, as a Spurs fan, the season is over, and now we have to look to next season. What that will look like, nobody knows, since we have no new manager in sight, no certainty that our best player and all-time record scorer Harry Kane will stay, but certainty that we will not be playing European football next year. Ah well, maybe the break will be a good thing. It’s been a strange season. Spurs were stuck in fourth for most of it, while playing football that was dreary at best, less “to dare is to do” and more “don’t you dare do”. We sacked Conte eventually, replacing him with his assistant Stellini, then replacing him with Ryan Mason, it was like the Tory Party leadership. Manchester City won the league (again), overtaking Arsenal a few weeks before the end of the season, the Gunners bottling it when face with the massive state-funded behemoth in their rear view mirror.  I found myself actually feeling sorry for them. At least Chelsea were utterly hilariously atrocious; we were terrible, but ended up sixteen points ahead of them. Five other London clubs finished ahead of them. Two other west London teams finished above them. Leicester got relegated, only a few years after they were the champions, going down with Leeds and Southampton. Meanwhile little Luton Town, who were relegated from the old First Division just before it became the Premier League, finally made it back up to the top table having been in the non-league divisions just a few years back. In Italy, Napoli won their first title since the Maradona years, finishing miles ahead of everyone else, while in Germany it went down to the final day, but Dortmond lost and Bayern pipped them to win an eleventh title in a row, because of course. In France, the oil-state sportswashing project called PSG won another title, keeping it interesting in Ligue 1. The middle of the season saw that same state hold a winter World Cup, which I must say I’m actually on board with the idea of every other World Cup being held just before Christmas, I enjoyed mixing the footy with the festive fun, and despite all the controversy about the hosting, the final was one of the most entertaining I’ve ever seen, with Messi finally getting his World Cup with Argentina. Time for a football break. The Women’s World Cup will be this summer though, and that should be good, but there’s just so much these days. I quit soccer coaching last year and have been watching my son’s team from the sidelines, thankful to not be thinking about practice plans and playing time as much, but still wincing whenever they play long balls. I’m still as obsessed as ever about football shirts, in fact most of the time I might prefer the shirts to the actual sport. I’m also still part of the organizing team for the local Davis World Cup youth recreational soccer tournament, my role being to take care of the website and the logos, and of course I’ve designed a million logos. This year is one of my favourites. Come August though, when the new Premier League season rolls back in, I’ll of course be as excited (or filled with dread) as ever, getting up early to watch the gsames, or catching them in my lunchtime as I did with the one I sketched above. That was a game we drew against Manchester United, who had been fellow Champions League contenders until we got blown away by Newcastle the weekend before. It was tough watching Spurs, but my allergies are so bad in Davis that it was better than being outside sneezing all lunchtime.

careful now

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Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The Jaws that bite, the claws that catch.
Beware the jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious bandersnatch.

IF: caution

Been a while since I drew an Illustration Friday, so here is one, on the theme of ‘Caution‘. I was in the office during lunchtime, because I didn’t want to go outside (it wasn’t too hot, in fact it was very nice, I was just feeling agoraphobic, which isn’t good for an urban sketcher), I was listening to the BBC world service, and decided to draw the little contraption I use to remove staples, the destapler (I don’t care if that’s not what it’s really called). To me, it is the single-most scary item in the office. Yes, the automatic shredder may do more devestating damage, and I never touch the insidious ink toner if I can avoid it. But this little thing bares its big sharp teeth, like a little metal piranha, or a futuristic nano-crocodile. It could just be posturing, trying to mark its territory. Either way, you should treat such frumious bandersnatches with caution. And that’s my illustration.

Week Twenty-Eight: Prints Charming

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The office is a strange place. Office society is like medieval Germany, full of tiny little independent principalities that must not be encroached. Medieval Germany, however, did not have photocopiers (though I imagine that when Gutenberg put his original printing press together he spent the first week calling in overweight technicians and trying to un-jam paper). I am struggling to understand our new giant photocopier, trying to work out why it prints twenty copies when I indicated I just wanted one, and why it prints ‘recto-verso’ when I don’t want it but won’t tell me how to do it when I do.

I am not very good friends with technology. Sure, we keep in contact, but it’s not in my speed-dial or anything. Sometimes I will walk past this photocopier and it will growl at me. I try not to look it in the eye if I can avoid it. I have given up wondering why, when there are five trays filled with paper, it insists on using the tray which is not only empty but impossible to open without a crowbar. I have not even begun to tackle the many options on the control panel; I’m sure that if I really wanted to I could get it to wallpaper the living room, but it’s just best if I stay away.

The little printer we have at home is even more scullyphobic. It seems to be pretty straightforward: you load the paper, you press ‘print’, it prints – couldn’t be simpler. Tell that to the bloody printer! What really happens is that you press print, and the printer says ‘no’, stating its reason as ‘out of paper’. “No,” I tell it, “the paper is THERE, right there in front of you.” “Where?” it replies childishly. “THERE!” I moan. I hold its hand, feed it the paper like a baby in a high-chair, and then, halfway through the first bite, it chokes up, flashing “Paper Jam! Paper Jam!” on its little LED screen.

So I take the paper out. And press ‘Continue printing’. And, like a schoolkid trying to wind up the teacher, it continues wailing about there being a Paper Jam, despite all the paper being removed from its guts and several threats of hammer-induced destruction are thrown its way. Oh, I really hate printers, why can’t they just grow up? And the worst thing is, you know that when that printer does grow up, it will be a smug, self-important photocopier. It’s nature’s way.