Ko Au No

My Dear Princess Normal & Dear Fellows,

Now look. I'm assuming that "ko au no" means "I'm yours" because that is what it says on the piano. 

If this is some sort of bilingual practical joke and I've actually inadvertently said something RUDE, like admitting I like to put my willy in peanut butter or something, then please DISREGARD this title. Also any rumours you may have heard about me being sued by Sun-Pat.

This piano is always by the waterfront, by the way. I've been meaning to take a photo of it for some time, but there's always some CHILD banging away on it. And it is frowned upon to elbow children out of the way with a cry of, "Begone! I wish to take a photo and this UGLY CHILD of yours is RUINING my artistic endeavours!!"

It is political correctness gone MAD. Tch.

I have been busy today. Which is annoying. I went to Wishbone to get my coffee at 7am and the Coffee Lady and me chatted while she percolated and frothed*. I like the Coffee Lady, she is good craic and she asked me if I was expecting a busy day.

"I certainly HOPE not," I replied. "It is my intention to lay low and hide and hopefully no-one will know I am there."

"What is it you do anwyay, if you don't mind me asking?" she said.

"I don't mind you asking," I said, "though I should warn you that I've explained it several times to my wife and she still has no idea what I do for a living."

So I told her the short version of what a BA does. "I'm a nerd-wrangler," I explained. "My job is to speak to business people about their needs and then convey this to people who wear 'Pinky and The Brain' t-shirts."

She wished me well in my attempt to have a cruisey day and said she was going to do likewise.

But THEN I had a day where the questions DID NOT STOP. It was really very irritating. Didn't these people KNOW that I was only notionally in the office and that in my head I was lying on the couch, slack-jawed, watching daytime tv in my pants??

"Well my plans were RUINED by stupid people bothering me all day," I told the Coffee Lady at lunchtime. 

"Mine too!" she told me. "You people and your DEMANDS for coffee!"

She said we should both go home early. 

"I can't do that," I told her. "On account of they are really strict about this whole 'only paying people who are here' thing. But I'm going to do that thing where I float about pretending to be going to talk to people when I am, in fact, just floating about."

"Ooooh that's good," she replied. "I wish I could do that."

"You should," I told her. "You could go to the food section and rearrange sandwiches randomly. And then look annoyed and stressed when someone disturbs you."

We both made a pact. So I spent this afternoon with a piece of paper in my hand** and flounced from one desk to another, pretending I was looking for someone and then furrowing my brow because Fictional Person was not there. Then I would go to someone else's empty desk.

"What?" I would splutter to no-one in particular. "Jenny Hanley isn't IN today?? Tch!"

I don't know if Coffee Lady did the same. Although I shall ask her tomorrow. If she tells me there was a riot because all the sandwiches had been put in a state of higgledy-piggledy, I shall deny all knowledge.

S. 

* I have this effect on women.
** The "Office Passport" as Auslaender used to say.