Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Time, Time, Time. See What’s Become Of Me. 

“Where were you?” asked Diana, Head of Marketing. She seemed bemused, I think.
“Where was I?”
“Yesterday? It was raining, remember?”
I must have looked even more blank than usual.
“Erm, give me a clue,” I said. “I was here. Wasn’t I?”
“Think. Think with your little Tim brain. For all it’s worth. Yesterday? After work? You said…”
“…that I’d give you a lift to the garage to pick up your car?”
“I sent you an email. I thought you’d forgotten,” she said.
We don’t have much time.
“Yes, but without the italics,” she said. “I got a lift from someone dependable instead.”

Creepy Keith from accounts popped his head round the door.
“I’m just telling him now,” said Diana.
He rolled his eyes, tutted and walked off again.
I don’t know which is worse: when he's in verbose twat mode, or passive smarmy mode. Both make me want to commit Keithicide.

Note to self: Stop forgetting stuff.

“He took me all the way home to Blackrod.” She slapped me playfully across the head with a pamphlet about exciting new solutions in data warehousing. “Because the garage was shut by the time we got there, wasn’t it? Thank goodness Keith was there to bail me out. What a nice man. Very dependable.”

It must be worse than I’d thought. Wasn’t that a fortnight ago?

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