you know that feeling when you've been carrying the burden of a lame joke for so long that you are just bursting to tell it? and the worst bit is that when you actually do, nobody finds it funny. or at least they pretend to find it funny and laugh along just because you are charming and it's the effort that counts. well, this tends to happen a lot in my ward. my bunch of simple-minded colleagues are not exactly the kinda people who can appreciate puns and metaphors. they don't know what a 'your momma's so fat' joke is and believe me, they haven't reached the stage whereby they can understand irony too. yes, my working environment is definitely amongst the third world countries when it comes to a joke culture.

in fact, the typical jokes that my colleagues can laugh along very well with are those revolving around Pangkeng's brand of humor:

Pangkeng: Jon, you want to smell this? this is from bed twelve's stoma bag. cheebye, damn smelly seah.

(insert colleagues canned laughter)

Me: yah i agree. cheebye damn smelly. that's why i've never liked them in the first place.

(insert colleagues' canned boos)

Pangkeng: errrrhm...

Me: i'm more of an ass person, you see

Pangkeng: OOOOHHH! i'm a breast person man, and i feel like squeezing some tits now!

(insert colleagues' canned laughter)

that's what working with Pangkeng on a daily basis is like and i'm not exaggerating. bless his soul, but he thinks mainly with his heart and dick. not very helpful when one is trying to process my brand of humor:

Colleague: Damn, the phone is engaged.

Me: (scandalized look) But I thought they just got divorced last month???!!

what usually follows is a clueless look of thought-processing, cogwheels churning in the mind and prolly looking up streetdirectory.com to see where my joke is going. most of the time, my victims turn into casualties and end up being truly lost. at this point, they could do a Russell Crowe with the phone or simply laugh along with me and avoid charges of assault. thank goodness that most of the time, i'm spared the pain when they play along with the latter.

but it seems that my colleagues can only laugh at anything dirty, smelly, gross or involving a random body part. i mean, FB in rectum was a riot to them. the latest gossip about a patient playing with himself during the night shift is currently making its rounds in the ward. and not helping is the fact that Pangkeng's jokes are fast becoming an addiction. i could jolly well work in the ward, maintaining a straight face (can that be considered as a gay joke?) and keep all the smart-ass remarks to myself. but i simply can't. my mind is constantly working overtime, processing the simplest of words and churning them out as contextual puns. lame jokes, aside from coffee and cigarettes, are the only way i know of staying sane in a stressful ward environment.

thus, it was with some surprise that i struck the lottery of lame jokes while the boss was having 'contact time' with the morning staff a few days ago. contact time at the ward level is like one of those pre-work briefing things that all the wards have to disseminate circulars and pass messages and generate morale amongst the staff. in fact, it seems to be a global phenomenon. the Japanese conglomerates have their roof-top exercises. the French prolly have baguettes with coffee and cigarettes (J'adore France!). but the Chinese would rather just start work and be productive if not for the fact that the organization makes 'contact time' mandatory.

that particular day's contact time was just fraught with the same old circulars that have been read one time too many. fruit sales, policy updates, compliment letters and an ever-increasing number of standards that seem to be clamping down on every single hospital staff. nothing new. the boss however carried on ranting about the incoming ISO audit that the hospital was about to go through. this particular audit would be much more important than the JCI ones because in her own words 'The American auditors from JCI stop work strictly at five-thirty whereas the local ISO auditors can leave the hospital at eight or nine even'. stupid hardworking Asians.

all that said, her little remark about the auditors basically encouraged her to emphasize the importance of paperwork now. this put everyone in quite a spot because frankly speaking, everyone in my ward is guilty of it. missing initials. missing signatures. missing remarks. a lack of time. illegible handwriting (but this is mainly a crime of the doctors). nobody likes to be ranted on at 7am in the morning, but that was what the boss was doing at that point of time. looking around, i could see everyone suspending their systems and going into some form of hibernating mode.

i was about to turn off mine too when the witty bits in my brain managed to come up with another lame joke. i decided to save it for diffusing the tension that had built up. it was difficult but i bit my tongue back till the boss finished with her speech. it was awkwardly quiet. but nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?

'I agree with what sister said. after all, the ISO auditors are very strict. and just as a side note, if you say ISO very fast, you get a word that basically describes them!'

what ensued was another few seconds worth of silence and referencing the street directory before someone actually said 'Orh!!!! Asshole!!!'

(insert canned laughter)

the cringe-worthy bit was after contact time though. one of the colleagues actually came up to me and patted me on the back. 'That was a very good joke man! What a great way to start the morning!'

perhaps i should start saving my jokes for myself and enjoy a private victory.

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