A Bad Day and a Good Day Dream
I want my holiday back. Let's rewind to last week. Please. Last week - when life was relatively simple and the hardest thing to do was go to the market and buy more cheese and butter.Since I came off holiday, things at work have gone from bad to just plain stupid. Yesterday was crappy, today is awful.
A theft issue with one of our temps at an Amsterdam site - started badly and just got worse the more details I knew. And today, to make my misery complete, I found
£245,000 of outstanding debt owed to us by one of my customers. YA - that's a quarter of a million GBPounds! Like WAY a lot of dosh.
This is aged debt that should have been cleaned out by the last Account Manager - who was fired for non-performance of course. Just when I got the customer working on clearing debt, I found this huge hunk and I have to hit them with it. Not a good day. I have spent weeks building this customer's confidence in our data integrity - and in one day - crash - bang.
As I wait for the UK back office gurus - over in Kingston - to rework yet another spreadsheet so I can send it to the dragon lady customer, I start to day dream. It's the only way to deal.
My mind plays with thoughts of the 'Stig'. I imagine I can hear the bangs and thrusts of his motorcycle engines whooshing down Boulevard Adolphe Max and coming to an exciting stop outside my office building. I imagine I hear the sturdy footsteps of the 'Stig' climbing the 6 flights up to my lonely office at the top of this old Belgian office building - a former house. No one has an office up here but me. All alone. (In my daydream the 'Stig' is not breathless from the many flights of stairs like everyone in real life).
I try to keep Roasted Chicken out of my day dreams most of the time - today is a good day for no roasted chicken in my day dream - doesn't fit.
The 'Stig' enters my office - well, there's no door, he simply gets to my floor and he's pretty much there. Helmet on - Visor down. Silent, strong, mysterious. Broad shouldered. Pretty damned scrumptious.
I want to sit him on my desk and slowly, slowly remove his boots and mighty thick gloves. I want to unzip the full body leathers one zipper tooth - tic-tic-tic - at a time - slowly. First around the ankles, wrists, then waist and legs...Like I am performing detailed surgery. I want to carefully and ever so slowly peel the leathers off his shoulders and pull the arms to reveal the 'Man'. Heat rising. The mystery still in tact because his heavy helmet is still shielding his face, eyes, soul.
My damned phone rings and ruins my day dream. It's dragon lady - I will give her a special customer promotion - to Lizzie Borden - because I think she looks like Lizzie Borden the axe murderer. Oh, I know that's mean - it's not like I even know what Lizzie Borden looks like.
I digress.
Anyway - basically I want to ravage the 'Stig' and pour a cool Vodka lime and soda for the two of us and chill.
Time to go home.
posted by Brussels Confidential @ 5:01 PM
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