Life at Rhodi Towers

  There is something altogether comfortable about being sat directly inbetween a tooting Chorley-man and an African man who regularly sings out hits from the 60's and onwards.  Such is life at Rhodi Towers, the cultural centre of Preston.  I work in what i like to call "The Despatch Dept" which consists of myself and whoever i choose to designate from a day to day basis.  How do i fill my time between despatches i hear you cry out as you read this blog, sat in a comfy leather chair and probably sipping hot beverages from a cardboard cup.  I fill my time doing spreadsheets for one of our directors, helping our accessories manager calm down and doing odd jobs for everyone in the office.  Or doing a brew run.  Rhodi people love a brew run.

  Life is quiet here today.  Imran (our Brand Manager) is currently in Canada no doubt trying to force stores to start stocking our products.  He has a great ability to sell things and i have no doubt that should he turn up on my doorstep one day trying to flog me some tupperware my kitchen would soon be crammed full of cubic plastic containers filled with nothing.

  We are between seasons at the moment, AW11 is dwindling and soon SS12 will be launching, injecting fresh style to our beloved nation.  It will soon be hometime and to be honest i am awaiting it.  My throat is hurting and ive done no despatching for about a week.  Work is slow right now, but i keep myself occupied helping others out with their work.  At least we can have a laugh or two whilst we wait for it to pick up again.

  There are a variety of characters that work here at Rhodi Towers.  I shall highlight a few over future posts but lets start with Jan Vincent Goddard.  He thinks everyone is racist, talks non-stop about football, says muchos gracias despite not being mexican, puts too much pressure on your shoulders when he leans on you, steals your computer as soon as you leave your desk and dresses like the last cowboy in the west.  But do we love him?  I leave you to answer that one.

  Directly to my right we also have John Whittaker.  The man who goes lady shopping on plenty of fish, can make sounds previously unheard of by blowing into his hands (reminiscent of a whale looking for a ladywhale to have 'relations' with), likes to emit a stinky toot, takes immense pleasure from hosting the daily 'guess the yoghurt flavour' contest (which is usually won by Ceri, more on her in later posts no doubt), wears shorts despite the icy conditions, and eats more fruit than a monkey.  Noone here knows what his actual job is.  I see spreadsheets on his computer, he prints things, emails are sent, but i cant say for sure what events he is setting into motion.  Can it be he is some form of puppet master conducting a symphony of deception on us all?  Or maybe a spy planted by our Directors to keep a pulse on the minions in the office.  Will we ever truly know?

  That is all i leave you with for now.  I am tired of typing and need to hydrate my mind with a fresh batch of water.  More stories soon...