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[Aug. 7th, 2010|07:00 pm] |
*Finds himself in work, on a Saturday trying to organise this bloody AGM and having to deal with sullen admin staff in the process.*
Make sure the I.T. suite in conference room two is working okay, I don't want any blue screens of death while Hamish is showing us his latest powerpoint labour of love. Mike did you get the catering sorted out? No, no, they'll eat here, they're not going to go out for lunch because they're not going to be able to agree on where to go. We'll have a roomful of lawyers for goodness' sake, lawyers will argue about the colour of shit if you let them. Ergo, we're not giving them a choice. Look, I know; it's the weekend, we're working and it sucks. I don't want to be in here anymore than you do but just think of the lovely overtime I'm paying you right now.
*Privately wrestles with how to keep his father from running into her. Short of sending her on a fact-finding trip to Hithlum, he's all out of ideas.*
*Decides he needs to get out of the office if only for a few minutes so goes to the nearby coffee shop for a caffiene injection.*
*Eyes the queue warily before he joins it.* It's not too bad, fairly short, moving pretty quickly. Ach, you'll be fine. |
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stressed