Friday, November 16, 2007

17.12 On Time
I have a bad feeling about the train tonight.
It proves totally unfounded and makes me think, again, of Richard Feynman's views on premonition.

The Happy Wanderer turns up unexpectedly; rosy and beaming.
"How was America?" he asks. "A long time ago" I reply "I'm planning the next one now".
He's due back full-time in another couple of weeks, which is good for us but bad for him.

On the last afternoon of the last day of the flexi month tumbleweed blows down the hall. A door-slam echoes in the stairwell. Phones ring out. The remaining few huddle together to contemplate whether (and how) ThesaurusBoy will ever meet someone new; I swallow a Nurofen and wonder if the drilling across the road will ever stop.

Far too late in the day for anyone to read, let alone understand, a line-toeing email arrives from ICT informing us that we are to be 'migrated' over the weekend and will lose our passwords, our email addresses and our shortcuts (it doesn't add "and, most likely, everything you've ever done for the last five years"). It implies that everything will be up and running by Monday morning and that our IT experience will be enhanced.

HeadGeek raises sceptical eyebrows, shrugs, and says we may as well stay home.

Scar - Joe Henry


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