The Office Moron Blog

This page is an unapologetic and very personal rant against what is now becoming so common as to be almost beyond comment, so naturally I’m passing comments (usually angry sarcastic ones) on the behaviour I see around me at work. It should be mentioned this blog is about The Office Moron, not by her, though any readers may of course think that of the author, as well as calling her ‘classist’, ‘elitist’, ‘educationalist’ and so on. Given the behaviour I am reporting on, these judgements can only be taken as compliments.


Somewhere in the ugliest block-of-concrete building in London, if not the whole of Europe, is an office in which sit a small group of people whose job description might loosely be termed ‘planner’; that is, they enter data into various computer databases, or change the data. As with all such groups, they spend most of the day doing nothing and then want overtime at the weekends to finish the work they should have been doing during the week, but look at what else they accomplish!

One of the group, whose ages range from the late 40s down to the early 20s, is what by most descriptions would be a borderline illiterate, and it is this girl who is the subject of The Office Moron Blog. Calling her a ‘sewermouth’ is entirely accurate as she’s the kind of person who has to put a fucking ‘fucking’ in front of every fucking verb and fucking noun just to make her fucking point, but in truth using the word ‘sewer’ is an insult to the engineers, architects and general builders who made the system of tunnels running beneath the city. ‘Pottymouth’ would be just as appropriate, and more indicative of the general usefulness of what emanates from her. For reasons known only to themselves, this behaviour is not only tolerated by her work colleagues, but in a process that can only be called regression (thus demonstrating the maxim that everything falls to the lowest level) they laugh with rather than at her, and invariably copy her.

As for her general ability to perform work, there are currently two opinions, which do not agree with one another. The first, when the group were speaking about her during a welcome absence, is that she’s very good at picking things up and copying what she is shown, but she doesn’t actually understand what she is doing and so when things go wrong she can’t think things through and work out why; in other words, she’s a biological macro. The second, spoken to me by someone who contributed to the former description but now apparently amended in a manner to make her appear better than originally thought, is that she’s very bright and picks things up quickly, and follows things through so she knows the whole process inside out. Her general ignorance and what amounts to borderline illiteracy, that is due entirely to her being so smart and easily bored that she never bothered learning the basics. In other words, she isn’t so smart as to know how essential being able to read and write and spell correctly is for modern communication (even texters who can’t be bothered to use SMS have to know a word’s correct spelling so as to abbreviate it consistently and in a manner where its context makes its meaning plain), or so smart as to want to learn anything new rather than fritter away work time playing games instead of browsing any of the on-line encyclopædias.

Note: when the following collection of symbols appears, {!!}, it represents a slamming of both hands onto the table in the manner of a petulant 5-year-old who wants their own way.

Spelling Bee

What makes the following even more incredible (or just simply pathetic) is that she’s sitting in front of a computer with access to dozens of on-line dictionaries, and has Microsoft Word installed as part of the basic Office suite (which of course has its own spell-checker), but she’s probably incapable of forming the thought associations to even realise they exist.

“How do you spell ‘priority’?”

To be almost fair, when reading aloud all the questions to a crossword and being given all of the answers, she didn’t specifically ask how to spell ‘fuchsia’, but as she didn’t even know what it was, that isn’t much of a recommendation, and she was in any case informed of the correct spelling otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to fill in the little empty squares.

“How do you spell ‘preg-a-nent’? This, from someone who has come back from maternity leave and has therefore actually been pregnant.

“How do you spell ‘available’?”

“How do you spell ‘virtual’?” She’s using a computer running Windows 7 Enterprise, which has within it a separate copy of Windows XP in a ‘virtual machine’, but looking at the name of the shortcut is too much effort, so she just makes more noise.

To A ‘T’

The most redundant letter in the alphabet. (or “the mos’ redundan’ le’’er in the alphabe’” as it would be pronounced). When combined with an ‘H’, the resultant ‘th’ sound is deemed too much effort, and so is reduced to a passing ‘f’ or ‘v’ sound. Thus, ‘other’ becomes ‘uvver’, ‘think’ becomes ‘fink’, etc. The only time it seems to be specifically voiced is when beginning a syllable that is in the middle of a word: for example, ‘yesterday’.


“Cunts!” {!!} The first word uttered after arriving back from a short mid-week break of 3 days. The reason for this pathetic outburst? She’s forgotten one of her passwords. After a mere three days.


“I’m bored!” {!!} She’s sitting at a computer that has access to 99.99+% of the internet (the company runs filtering software which blocks certain sites that some censors have deemed hateful), with countless millions of articles relating to every aspect of science, history, geography, politics, religion, mythology, and she’s bored? Then again, her idea of a worthy subject is based on the latest wannabe-losers who try and sing on The X Factor or play at being human in Big Brother.


“Four fruits!” {!!} {!!} “Four fruits!” During one of their never-ending rambling talks, food was mentioned yet again, and this response was enacted as loudly as possible. Did she then actually mention the particular fruit? No, that would have been far too simple. Like the 4-year-old she seems to be, TOM then wanted everyone to name a fruit to which she would then respond with “Four fruits!” {!!} {!!} “Four fruits!” whenever they got the wrong answer.


“Boo!” Not as in “Boo, surprised you!” but “Booooo!” {!!}, like a lowering cow being prodded to move. It’s a general expression of protest at anything at all, whether her failure at playing her current favourite game, or an item of ‘news’ she’s seen on the Sun’s website.

Flipping The Birds

“Whee…!” “Oh no!” “What the fuck?” “That should have fucking worked!” Thankfully this most over-rated of catapult games is played with the sound turned off, but that doesn’t stop TOM from providing her own sound effects along with a running commentary of what’s happening on screen. Add to this the fact she’s actually following an on-line video of how to solve the game as she can’t be bothered to work it out for herself, and this is even more pointless than usual.

Girl’s Aloud

With very few exceptions, everything TOM does it accompanied by a running commentary, both of the actual actions, such as they are, and what she’s feeling about them.


“Choo-choo! Choo-choo!” “Choo-choo! Choo-choo!” Yet another game played with verbalised sound-effects, this thankfully unseen time-passer presumably involves shunting trains along tracks or out of one another’s way.

The Letter ‘P’

“I need to pee! I want to pee!” Going to the loo is a natural event which most people would go and do with the minimal of fuss. This of course is not TOM’s way, so she repeatedly calls out her intentions.


“Two?” {!!} “Two?!” “You have two collections?!” TOM’s reaction upon hearing a colleague lives in a borough which (like mine) has two rubbish collections per week, rather than the fortnightly one she suffers. Repeat ad nauseam for the next 3-4 minutes: “Two?” {!!} “Two?!” “You have two collections?!”


“I don’t understand Android phones, they don’t make sense.” An array of icons set in grid format, and you don’t understand it?! It’s been the standard layout on PDAs and phones since the mid 1990s and given you’re 22 years old, is probably the only thing you’ve ever seen.