Belle de Jour part deux (The Diary of a Call Centre Girl)
Today I had a special treat. The keyboard cleaners were in, dusting the detritus of slowly eroding Call Centre workers from the nooks and crannies in the office.
I love the keyboard girl.
I love the curl that kisses her forehead.
I love her china-white, translucent skin.
I love the way she coyly looks at me as though I am a lecherous fat biffer.
You understand that my appreciation of her beauty is intended in an enlightened and non-threatening manner.
I caught her brown eyes today and politely asked her to visit my desk.
Me: “My ball keeps sticking.”
She: “I’ll sort it out for you.”
She silently popped out the ball of my mouse and digitally explored the rim prior to extracting a tiny clump of fluff.
Is there anything this girl can’t do?