..where your boss sends you home for fear of further damage to office property?
Let's take a stroll through a day with Koekie.
On Thursday night, guests arrived from London. Mills had taken the day off, so it was with great excitement that he and our guests sat up and shared a few more than two beers - until 4am when I lost patience and sent them to bed. After about two hours sleep, I got up and went to work on Friday morning.
I thought the cycle into work would wake me up. I can't decide if the insect that lodged itself in my eye helped or not. I got into work and had a bizarre interview with a 40-year-old woman who decided to share 12 pages of printed pictures showing herself at work and at team building events. When I tried to direct her back to the topic of the interview, she paused, looked at me... and dived straight back into pointing herself out in each picture. Seriously.. is this a new form of self-promotion? "And here I am playing beach volleyball with my boss and his manager..." Does this in any way indicate her level of skills??
Finally released from her holiday-pic-horror, I went upstairs to make me some lunch. Lunch involved some level of cooking - unbaked breadroll. Pop it in the microwave for 2minutes and voila - freshly baked broodje. In theory.
In practise, my roll caught alight after 90seconds. I whipped it out of the microwave and shoved it under running water with an extinguished sizzle and accompanying stench. Now would be a good time to point out that our office is not insured for fire.
Desperate to get rid of the smell, I opened the window as wide as possible. Unfortunately, the kitchen window opens inwards and in my haste, I failed to notice the glass light fitting hanging from the ceiling, directly in line with the window.
I decided it was time to start apologising to the boss (who had recently offered me a year extension on my current contract. I think she may be reconsidering). She commended me on my efforts. In fact, she laughed so hard she cried a little. At least, I think she was laughing... She then sent me home before I broke anything else.
The rest of the weekend picked up. We took our guests into the Red Light District, gawked at a few hookers, learnt the catchy phrase "stop masturbating, start participating" (must remember to throw that into conversation more regularly), watched even more hookers playing rugby (YES PLEASE*) and enjoyed a good catch up weekend.
*What is the with the engraving of the trophy as the final whistle blows? Talk about unnecessary pressure. It's not like the horseraces where an outsider might snatch the gold medal... "and coming from the 8th lane it's GEORGIA to take the trophy. GEORGIA ARE THE RUGBY WORLD CUP CHAMPIONS 2007!!" Surely it would make more sense to just have one base that says "SOUTH AFRICA 2007" and another that says "ENGLAND 2007"? That way all you need is a tube of Superglue and ten seconds to apply direct pressure. Of course, it could also be embarrassing if the gratuitous cute kid gets stuck to the glue. Could be awkward trying to pick up Thabo, holding a snotty 8 year old attached to the trophy by his right thumb... Although it would elimate the chances of the cup being dropped.
Okay, I might be overtired. Bed time for this shattered Koekie.