Pig in a Poke

Cathy Gilroy relented and allowed us to have a dress down day. What’s more we were allowed to wear “summer casuals” in view of the hot weather.

Call Centre Tony looked ridiculous in three-quarter length pants with sandals and socks. “Tony. I agree with what you were saying yesterday – people should get 15 years for looking how you look.” I said.

He growled, but agreed to go to the pub at lunchtime.

When we got there it was packed. I was handed a ticket for my chip butty and we sat outside.

I tried desperately to prevent Tony picking up where we left off on Thursday. There was still an atmosphere between us. I decided that I could win him back round by revealing a secret. “Tony I have been writing an on-line diary about my daily life in the Call Centre.”

“Who the fuck would want to read anything about working in the Call Centre, its fucking boring, nothing happens.” He said, un-phased, drinking his pint.

An old woman came out, a chip butty in her hand, sucking on her false teeth, “Sixty nine! Anyone order a sixty nine.”

Maybe he has a point.