Skinny Latte – to go!

Mary has pointed out that people have been turning in late over the past week. I opened up my in-box to find a stinging memo from Ian complaining about my team’s log on time. Every member of the team has been late every single day for the past three weeks.

Part of the problem has been Mary’s visit and John Three’s scowling, but the real reason is that my watch is on British Summer Time. Call it wishful thinking; call it ‘positive self-talk’; better still, call it laziness - but I haven’t put my watch back in an attempt to avoid winter.

A few pertinent questions here and there and everywhere and … et voila – Bob’s your Auntie’s live-in-lover - my investigations revealed the cause of the tardy behaviour.

It seems that the Death Wagon, parked outside of the Call Centre, is not content with clogging up arteries with fried egg, bacon, steak and mushrooms. It’s gone ‘up market’ and bought a barista. The sound of slamming that accompanies modern coffee making rings through the converted trailer while my team wait for the next fix.

My team are wired on caffine from a gleaming machine… (get Bowie on the line – I have a new lyric.)