Tuesday, August 21, 2012
ping pong (the game)
Well blow me down and call me Chris.
There's a running spreadsheet, there is some greasily strategic rank-climbing going on, and people are getting visibly flustered. There will be a punch thrown by the end of the week.
All this sounds like harmless and banterous office shenanigans, except that the punch might just get thrown by me. It might be worth mentioning that I am more competitive than an Olympic Le Clos-off with Michael Phelps in a swimming pool filled with Amazonian piranhas that haven't eaten in five years.
So I'm competitive, but not good enough to be competitive, which is obviously a rather unfortunate downfall. It seems the more I play the worse I get.
It's fucking killing me.
I initially joined this thing as I thought, "Oh how nice. A side activity. This can be my sport." (I don't do sport, so anything that involves some kind of physical strategy and involves points, so pool, card playing, ping pong - that's sport. My walk to the station and back is also sport. Generally, I'm more inclined to play beer pong, not ping pong.)
Then I got involved in an office tournament. Frantic spreadsheet opening and tallying, and generally office conversation has turned away from work, current affairs, and now involves balls (now that I can do) and silly little bats. Thought this would be easy.
Until I starting getting inched off the rung, as I started losing match after match. So I upped my strategy and while since becoming a horrible person, I am clawing my way back up the ladder. Good
God, what will happen to the stakes when I am hiding away in France? I dread to think. More stressful than a full inbox, maybe, even?