I don’t think I have ever been so excited at work as I have been today. A big box arrived addressed to me.
It was perfectly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. I saved the string and carefully picked open the paper and folded it neatly to save for future use. With the stringent cuts in the stationery budget you never know when it might come in.
Since last Monday we have been taking calls from a catalogue company. (It can’t be named in this blog for ‘keeping my job’ reasons). The wallboards have been going crazy, bleeping and beeping like R2D2 at an Ann Summers’ Party.
The team have been locked to their telephone headset and screens like lab rats. Dear reader, I too have needed to take my head set from its velvet-lined box and speak to people. Little wonder that I have no time to complete this diary.
The arrival of the box and its ceremonial opening was interrupted by Bernard who strode down the office, purple with rage, “All hands on deck! Calls waiting!”
The box was put away and I took orders for Singing Christmas Trees.
"Typical," said Barney, The Big Gay Bear, "just as you want to enter the box, Santa wants to keep his sack full."
No. I didn't understand him either.