Monday, February 06, 2006

Last Goodbye 

It was Diana, Head of Marketing’s last day on Friday and I missed it.

I had to drive down to a health food distributor in Stourbridge. A stupid job - they couldn’t print out their despatch notes and had trucks loaded up and ready to go, and I could have talked them through it on the phone, but oh no, we’re currently renegotiating contracts, so I had to go and be smiley and nice and provide ‘at elbow’ support.
“Thank God you’re here,” said the MD with no hint of sarcasm when I arrived - a nervous, squinty man, with breath reeking of treacle and an inability to find his glasses.
“If my client doesn’t get his oats by Monday then he’ll have me over a barrel.”

Diana texted me this morning asking if I could look in her old office for a book she may have left behind.
I’m such a dork. Halfway up the stairs - the lift was on fire again; rioting on the help desk - I wondered whether maybe she was playing a trick on me, and that she’d be sat at her desk with a big grin when I got there.
Fooled you! I decided to stay! Ha ha ha!

I knew it was a rubbish idea but it didn’t stop me from feeling disappointed when I found Death - one of the four horsepersons who came from Jumped Up Yobs In Suits Corporation - sat in her place. Death is supposedly going out with Pestilence, but everybody knows he’s been knocking off Famine ever since last November’s Pesticide Convention at Blackpool Winter Gardens. We’re not blind.

“Oh. It’s you,” I said with barely concealed contempt.

I found the book, j-bagged it and handed it to Tabs who knows how to operate the franking machine, then went outside to look at the rabbits and give myself a bit of a talking to.

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