The lift up from the basement was crowded this morning. It's not that I don't like people, it's just that they're loud, coarse creatures with poor hygiene and a propensity for starting religious wars and sitting in front of me at the cinema.
To the fat guy who got off after just two floors at the offices of the medical research council: Taking the frickin' stairs is good for you. Read a medical textbook sometime.
To the IT guy who said to the other IT guy 'Blah blah blah windows message box of the web app blah blah blah': what?
To the naked opthamaologist in the clown-make-up chewing on cajun alpaca jerky: where were you?
Monday, March 16, 2009
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Where were you indeed.
I took a lift up from a basement carpark with two of my kids, one of whom walked right up to the attractive "Telephone" button, perfectly positioned at kiddy eye-level, and pressed it hard.
The OTIS lift man was quick to answer in brisk and professional tones. I said "Oh, sorry sorry sorry, my child pressed the button." And he hung up on me. Just like that.
I expect that had I mentioned the fact that I was naked, wearing clown-make-up and chewing on cajun alpaca jerky, he might have given me a less frosty response.
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