I had my first inauspicious workplace meltdown at 19. After two and a half days on the job, it appeared that life as a street-salesman for timeshare holiday packages was not for me. Flustered, cold, useless and informed, repeatedly, where exactly to shove my one-line sales pitch, I removed the name badge, threw my clipboard in a nearby dustbin and told my hapless new manager, “I’m over this.”
We all know what it’s like to have a bad day at the office. Everyone peering in, aghast, as this week’s political circus unfolded could intuit much of what was happening on Wednesday night at Downing Street, from between the lines of the slack-jawed news presenters. You didn’t need to be locked directly in the office with Boris Johnson and his former Cabinet colleagues to understand the possible order of events when the boss goes full-scale bananas. What else — other than perhaps tanking half a bottle of Scotch — could explain the madness of Johnson’s pre-resignation antics?
