An ode to our work wives

Your first day at a new job, you clutch your handbag and hope to god you washed the toothpaste off the corner of your face. You start thinking about your previous work bestie and reminisce about the times she used to throw a kitkat over the filing cabinet, the singing of gangsta rap on the drive home and the comforting arm rub when you had some sort of work/PMT meltdown.

A smiley HR type introduces you to your team, they are pleasant but obviously giving you a look over trying to suss out what you are about. Then it happens, you hear somebody mutter a swear word, this girl just cut her finger trying to use a stapler, she pushes her glasses up her face and clearly forgets she’s at work whilst shouting profanities and raiding the first aid box.

I have hit the jackpot, hello my new work wife I am in love.

There is something so special about the people you spend roughly 40 hours of your week with normally making money for somebody else, or in my case trying to keep money to help other people.

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