Monday, September 03, 2007
You Keep Me Hanging On
Mike and Terry have spent the whole day bothering Tabs on reception every five minutes, asking if their parcel has arrived yet.
Last week, they ordered a shipment of gadgets from one of those sites that sell electronic gifts for men to treat themselves to since nobody else will.
They don't even like music, so what they plan to do with a USB MP3 to Vinyl Converter is anybody's guess.
Now they're firmly ensconsed in the "Has it come yet?" phase of the transaction, tracking its lack of progress on the courier's website, taking it in turns to stand guard by the window on the lookout for delivery vans, and generally getting on everybody's nerves.
They waited and waited all day and it never came.
Stella, my eighties style yuppie witch of a team leader, was still in her office well after the hometime bell had rang.
She was waiting for her friend Becky to call to be picked up from work, so they could go to their shibari class together.
She was idly flicking through a magazine, pausing at an article entitled "Ten Hot New Sex Tips For When He's Horny And Just Won't Leave You Alone For Pity's Sake."
"I have some sympathy," I said.
"Huh?" she mumbled, not really listening.
"I'm still waiting for my goggles to arrive. I ordered them weeks ago. I'm starting to wonder if I haven't been ripped off by a bogus goggle company."
"Right," she mumbled again.
"I guess the more you hang aound waiting for the postman, the less likely it is he'll show up."
"Watched pots and all that."
"They're prescription ones," I said.
Her phone rang and she immediately perked up.
"Hi!" she answered, a big smile lighting up her face. "Yeah, I'm on my way now. See you soon."
She stuffed the magazine into her bag and grabbed her car keys.
"You know, Tim," she said, her voice faraway and dreamy, more to herself than me, probably, "there are some days when my friend Becky only has to so much as look at me in a certain way and it makes me come straightaway."
"They're so I don't keep bumping into things when I'm swimming," I said, but by now she was already down the corridor and out of here.
"Other people mainly, but sometimes flotation aids, or even just the sides of the pool."
It can get kind of embarrassing when your feet keep getting caught up in the handrails.
Last week, they ordered a shipment of gadgets from one of those sites that sell electronic gifts for men to treat themselves to since nobody else will.
They don't even like music, so what they plan to do with a USB MP3 to Vinyl Converter is anybody's guess.
Now they're firmly ensconsed in the "Has it come yet?" phase of the transaction, tracking its lack of progress on the courier's website, taking it in turns to stand guard by the window on the lookout for delivery vans, and generally getting on everybody's nerves.
They waited and waited all day and it never came.
Stella, my eighties style yuppie witch of a team leader, was still in her office well after the hometime bell had rang.
She was waiting for her friend Becky to call to be picked up from work, so they could go to their shibari class together.
She was idly flicking through a magazine, pausing at an article entitled "Ten Hot New Sex Tips For When He's Horny And Just Won't Leave You Alone For Pity's Sake."
"I have some sympathy," I said.
"Huh?" she mumbled, not really listening.
"I'm still waiting for my goggles to arrive. I ordered them weeks ago. I'm starting to wonder if I haven't been ripped off by a bogus goggle company."
"Right," she mumbled again.
"I guess the more you hang aound waiting for the postman, the less likely it is he'll show up."
"Watched pots and all that."
"They're prescription ones," I said.
Her phone rang and she immediately perked up.
"Hi!" she answered, a big smile lighting up her face. "Yeah, I'm on my way now. See you soon."
She stuffed the magazine into her bag and grabbed her car keys.
"You know, Tim," she said, her voice faraway and dreamy, more to herself than me, probably, "there are some days when my friend Becky only has to so much as look at me in a certain way and it makes me come straightaway."
"They're so I don't keep bumping into things when I'm swimming," I said, but by now she was already down the corridor and out of here.
"Other people mainly, but sometimes flotation aids, or even just the sides of the pool."
It can get kind of embarrassing when your feet keep getting caught up in the handrails.

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