Tuesday, January 04, 2005

I Don't Know What It Is 

The first day back after Christmas is traditionally a busy one.

I don’t know what it is. There must be something about eating too much, drinking too much and having mad passionate red hot sex under the Christmas tree every night that causes users to forget their passwords en masse when they return to work.
I don’t really mind. Resetting passwords is not the most challenging task in the world and while you wouldn’t want to be doing it day in and day out, there are worse fates in the world, and today had a pleasing ‘switch off your brain and get on with it’ quality which suited me just fine.

Stella was fizzing around the office like a school chemistry experiment gone mad.
You’ll remember the sort of thing - drop something volatile in a beaker of acid and watch it whiz round and round, effervescing violently and smelling of bad eggs.
Now imagine a similarly volatile object with frizzy hair, a trouser suit and a briefcase full of motivational self help books, babbling ten to the dozen into her mobile about empowering her inner Branson or something and you start to get the picture.

We were all so busy that nobody thought to ask who the old bloke in the corner was, wearing an old tweed jacket, smelling of beer and fags and reading the Guardian. Perhaps it was ‘Take your old chemistry teacher to work day.’ It would explain a few things.

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