Let's Brighten Up with Remodeling { Open ; Government }

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Memories broken

The truth goes unspoken I’ve even forgotten my name I don’t know the season Or what is the reason I’m standing here holding my blade A desolate place Without any trace It’s only the cold wind I feel

The usual days of a British politician weren't actually too exciting. The only exciting out there was when you were actually interacting with the people during charity events, though you often got labelled as fake if you didn't look like the type to do charity. After all, every politician does some charity work and tries to fund obscure, sad charities. Those were the events where you could put on a big smile and try to seem as human as possible, but the judgement in how "authentic" you were tended to take away from the event. Other than that, it was either the campaign trail, lobbying in the government seat you were given, filming PSAs, or doing paperwork and setting up meetings to discuss things with other governments.

In short, most of your work was office work. That's why it's called "elected into office", not "elected into chair". Office work tended to be a bore. And it didn't actually give you the best respects at times. Sometimes you'd have to be next to the office of someone from a different party, and that person would perhaps take their politics too seriously, and when they did, they took action. Sabotaging meeting times, stealing your favorite desk ornament, stealing your mail, hacking into your network to find your secret agendas... well, that's why she didn't keep secret agendas, nor did she entrust her work computer to hold any if she did have any. She kept a down-low with her own cheap Acer laptop, as many of her coworkers had done. If you wanted to ensure computer safety, it would be best to stay friendly with Miss Clara Huang. 

On topic with her friendship with Miss Huang, it wasn't only for the computer protection that she formed a friendship. It was also the fact that there weren't very many females in the office in the first place among other things...

Today was just another boring day, another day at the office. But of course, once you kept the tight collar on for long, sometimes you just needed to loosen up. Maybe it was just time for a remodel... She sat at her computer, hands folded on the desk, staring at the long list of emails. It was a tedious task to have to answer all of these, but these couldn't be answered by the office secretary. A monotonous process that she couldn't just recruit one of the interns to do. Oh the days of a government official... living on the edge.

Words: 417 Notes: Lena, you know the plan ;D Tagged: Ludwig, Government Officials

Created by Fizzle of btn

[Deleted]

WE'LL BE FREE TO LIVE OUR LIVES , THERE'S NOTHING AND NO ONE WE'LL MISS and one day we'll look back with no regrets Someone at some point in history may have struck the question, when is an office not an actual office? In this case, João (who was a respected politician back in his home country, mind you) could answer this question. When is an office not an actual office? When it's actually a cubicle in the government office building. A cubicle with a desk, a phone, and a potted plant (a healthy-looking rubber tree, if he wasn't mistaken); walled in by dividers. So really, just a work space, not a proper office... Of course, João didn't really mind too much... After all, he was only working in London on a temporary basis, to have them give him an office room, just for his own use, would have been asking far too much, even if his temporary basis was likely to be quite some time. In his short stay, the desk had already become occupied with many stacks of papers – report files on various FOL doings, mostly of which were either copies from the police or other government workers from throughout Europe. But papers weren't the extent of João's job – far from it... There was a reason for the phone, after all; he may well have been God-awful with technology, but even he couldn't fail at just picking up the receiver whenever the phone rang... ...Which was what he'd done mere minutes ago. Several politicians from around Europe and beyond had that phone number, to that very phone, at that very desk. Several politicians who were without doubt as pissed off with the FOL as he was. Sat now in his chair, hunched over a piece of paper with the receiver held gingerly to his ear, he took notes of his ongoing conversation with this... Well, he couldn't actually remember her name right now... She was a politician from Prague, and she was complaining to him about the FOL having desecrated a few statues in the Czech capital the night before. Of course, all he could tell her was that nothing could be done straight away, and it was just another report for him to put on file; nothing new under the sun there. tagged , Gov bruvs words , 363 notes , lyrics from 1000 oceans by tokio hotel credits , post template by vitriol of on the edge.