I’m having a loser’s week. I’m not hitting targets at work, have spotted a few unsent messages on my Whatsapp and my love life is non-existent.
‘So sorry,’ I messaged Liz when I spotted one unsent message. ‘I’ve been a bit swamped but we need to catch up.’
‘What’s your news?,’ Liz asked.
‘I applied for a job in Dubai but I don’t have high hopes.’
‘Why not?’
‘I was hungover for the phone interview and drunk when I sent the feature ideas.’
‘You do get bad hangovers.’
‘He was also concerned that I’m too old for Dubai – he wants someone who will stay out there for a few years.’

Ian, the social media manger at work, was furious because someone had tweeted a swear word so a strict policy has been implemented. I let Ian know that I had no idea who would tweet something so stupid and that I thought a two-week notice for scheduling social media with him was ridiculous. A few days later I realised that I had been the culprit, having tweeted an image of one of artist Lauren Baker’s neon prints…

‘How did your date go?,’ one of my male colleagues shouted across the open plan office. I’d been on a date with a 29-year-old trader the evening before. He’d originally suggested the cigar room at The Mayfair Hotel. Having let him know that I don’t smoke, we settled for a new bar opening. He was clearly tired so we only had a couple of drinks but he asked if I was free on Friday.

I’m certainly not looking forward to keeping the entire office posted on my failing dating life…

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