Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Hurry Home 

The crackly bing bong PA system fizzed and popped into life, and we gathered round the office loudspeaker like fishermen tuned in for the shipping forecast.
Bill Surname CEO - bon viveur, raconteur, a high living bratwurst of a man woven entirely from Harris Tweed - buffeted us through sales figures and disappearing margins, the newly appointeds and soon to be departeds, stories from the boardroom, news from the war, tales of sorrow and woe.

Stella, my eighties style yuppie witch of a team leader - alpha kitten with a non-permanent dry marker pen – earnestly whiteboarded keyphrases while I settled down with a coffee style drink and sort of cake thing from the vending machine and thought about brie.
Upsize. Narrowcast. Onshoring. Data harvesting.
Terry and Mike, giddy as teenagers at their first Star Trek convention, shared ear buds and tittered to this week's Linux Humour podcast on Mike's laptop, thus missing all of the Billcast, which was more of the same old same old anyway: we must tighten our belts blah; ongoing process of service improvement blah; everybody and everything is to be audited, vaccinated and catalogued accordingly blah.
No stone shall be left uncategorised and we are to assist Charlotte, his loyal PA, in all of her endeavours, no matter how dimwitted they may seem to the casual observer.

Poor Charlotte - it's a difficult time for her, what with the markets in free fall and backstreet mortgage lenders pillaging and burning through every village and town, merciless in their hot hatchbacks and cheap suits, ubiquitous as pre-teen alcoholics, and now this: Mad Bluetooth Disease stalks the land, on every news bulletin and every front page – it's just one marauding invasion after another – and Bill Surname CEO, the only man she's ever loved, if only he knew it, says every PDA and phone, every mobile device in the company, must be disinfected and asset tagged by Wednesday week or we'll all be for the chop, tiddly-om-pom-pom, and her head will be first on the cheese board.

Oh my Lord, my goodness, my sweet darling Bill Surname, whatever are we to do? The crop is ruined and our enemies are advancing, our dreams are all in tatters and now who will look after the babies we never had, who will read them stories and tuck them in, what will we do, what shall we tell them? Who will iron their uniforms now, and who will pack their lunches? Where will it all end?
Oh my dear sweet child, don't cry, Daddy will be home soon, home soon, hush now my darling baby and dry your eyes, please don't cry, Daddy will soon be home.

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