We can all agree that having Happy Birthday sung to you by your family and dearest friends can be quite terrific. Particularly when it's boisterous and enthusiastic, somewhere near the end of a wonderful party.
But there is something so very sad and depressing about the workplace version of this ritual. It lacks gusto and feeling, and today it was Michael de Fonseca's turn. We caught up with Michael, who was reeling from a particularly lacklustre effort from his colleagues.
"Yeah we had a huge party at my place on Saturday night. It was massive. All the boys were there. We had a DJ and the whole catastrophe. They belted out Happy Birthday like they were the Barmy Army. It was a cracking night."
"And now here we are. On Monday. And a little cohort of my colleagues joined me in the boardroom to meekly whimper the worst version of that song I've ever heard. It was appalling. You know when Artax died in the Swamp of Sadness in Neverending Story? Yeah it made me feel like that. Just profoundly sad and helpless. A deep melancholy in my soul."
But this was not the worst part.
"All my friends outside work call me Fonzy. I love it. But at work, they call me anything from Michael to Micky to Mikey. One dickhead calls me Micko. So when we got to the bit of the song where they have to choose what name to call me, the worst type of hilarity ensued. They were like 'Happy Birthday Dear Michael Mickey Michael Micko HAHAHA...' It just kills me. I've never been a fan of zany things, and this madness deadset made me want to smash the cake in their faces."
Thankfully, he didn't. He may not have a birthday again for another year, but he looks at the calendar in the kitchen with disappointment.
"Shit it's bloody Janice's birthday on Wednesday. It never ends."