Welcome To The Madhouse! Prepare Yourself. We Have A Lot Of Characters Working Here!

Welcome to the madhouse. Prepare yourself.We have a lot of characters working here. I should warn you up front that this is not one of those sleek, modern workplaces where everyone wears noise‑cancelling headphones and pretends to be deeply focused on productivity while actually shopping for patio furniture. 

No. This is the sort of workplace where you walk in, take one look around, and immediately begin calculating which exit you can reach fastest if someone suddenly shouts “RELEASE THE FERRET.”Let’s begin with the first person you’ll meet: Brenda, Head of Welcoming Smiles and Mild Panic. Brenda greets every newcomer with the expression of someone who has just remembered she left a pan of boiling milk on the hob in 1998. She will hand you a clipboard, three pens that don’t work, and a laminated map of the building that was last updated during the Crimean War. If you ask her where the toilets are, she will point confidently in a direction that leads to a cupboard containing a single traffic cone and a mysterious humming noise.

Next is Gary from IT, a man who speaks exclusively in riddles and sighs. If you tell him your computer is broken, he will ask whether you’ve tried “reversing the polarity,” which is not a real thing but sounds technical enough that you nod, ashamed. Gary can fix anything except the printer, which has achieved full sentience and now demands tribute in the form of toner cartridges and the occasional biscuit. Gary once attempted to update its firmware and it responded by printing a 47‑page manifesto about workplace oppression.

Then we have the Marketing Department, also known as The Room of Eternal Brainstorms. These are people who can turn any simple idea into a 200‑slide presentation featuring a “brand journey,” a “customer empathy funnel,” and at least one diagram that looks like a psychedelic doughnut. They speak in phrases like “synergistic alignment” and “holistic engagement,” which are terms that sound impressive but mean roughly the same as “we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing.” Their leader, Fiona, once tried to rebrand the office kettle as a “hydration‑optimised thermal beverage interface.” It did not catch on.

Over in Accounts sits Norman, a man who has not blinked since 2014. Norman’s job is to guard the petty cash tin, which he treats with the reverence of a medieval monk protecting a sacred relic. If you request reimbursement for something outrageous like a £1.20 bus ticket, Norman will require receipts, witness statements, and possibly a sworn affidavit. He is the only person in the building who knows how to use the expense software, which was clearly designed by someone who hates humanity.

Human Resources is run by a woman named Pam, who has the soothing voice of a children’s TV presenter but the disciplinary instincts of a Roman emperor. Pam can fire you while simultaneously offering you a biscuit and telling you she believes in your potential. She once mediated a dispute between two employees over the ownership of a stapler, producing a 14‑page peace accord and a shared‑custody rota.

And finally, there’s the Boss. Nobody knows what the Boss actually does. He appears at random intervals, like a rare bird or a tax inspector, mutters something about “big changes coming soon,” and then vanishes into a meeting that lasts the rest of the fiscal year. Rumour has it he lives in the ventilation system.So yes welcome to the madhouse. You’ll fit right in. 

Just remember the three golden rules of survival: never feed the printer after 5pm, never ask Marketing what they’re “ideating,” and never, under any circumstances, make direct eye contact with Norman!