Hey, am I Longneck?
Longneck had wheeled his chair over to mine and was staring at me accusingly.
Eh? Beat it, I am kinda busy.
I made a shooing motion with my hand without looking up from the glorious array of numbers that I was magicking into a pie chart in excel.
Astonishingly, I was busy. Someone had asked for some numbers and insisted on them being in Excel as if we were back in the nineties. I had asked one of our outsourced colleagues to do it but after them asking me a million times how to do it I realised I would be far quicker just doing it myself.
No, I will not beat it! You said it in an email... a group email. You said 'Longneck will send the TDD over'?!
Longneck made a face like one of those fish that live at the bottom of the sea that die when you pull them up to the surface to laugh at them.
Surreptitiously, I leaned on one cheek to let out a little arse-champagne.
If you lean in just the right way you don't get the pop - you see?
Did you send it over? They wanted it sharpish.
It was my turn to sound squirrely. If we didn't send the Americans shit they tended to down tools for a day and start babbling about the viability of the contract. Wanks that they were.
Note: Not all Americans are wanks.
Honest.
I mean it.
Of course I sent it over. If we don't send them shit they down tools because they are wanks??!
Longneck cast a stink eye in the general direction of America.
Well if you sent it then what is the problem?
I was feeling a tinge of impatience like a clown with a knife hiding in a closet waiting for someone to go to sleep.
The problem?! The PROBLEM?! You said LONGNECK?!
Longneck's exceedingly long neck was bulging and red as if he had drunk some Michigan water.
I glanced up from my pie chart and tittered.
Fucking hell, who shat in your handbag? Calm down.
I turned back to the pie chart and wondered if I should make it 3D or not. Today was obviously going to be a day of big choices.
But why? Why am I Longneck? Why would you say that?
He looked both perplexed and confused as if he was a dog that someone had shouted gay at from their car as they drove past because he was chewing a rubber bone.
I pulled my laptop closed so that no one would see my pie before it was ready and tutted.
Really? Why do you think I would call you Longneck?
I gazed intently into Longneck's eyes.
I don't know? It's fucking rude?! I still don't get it but it's rude?!
His hands curled into fists as if he wanted to either murder me or urgently milk a cow.
Oh for fuck sake man. It's just a nickname, you know because of your really long neck?
I waved at his swannish neck region.
My neck isn't long? Is it? It's not?
Longneck stood up uncertainly.
Don't call me that again. It's not professional.
He wandered away rubbing his neck like a magic lamp.
Nearby, Bernie the Woman sniggered.
I hope you haven't got a nickname for me?
She laughed as if imagining such preposterousness.
I do actually. You are Bernie the Woman.
I smiled widely at her as I said it.
Her face fell as she processed what I had said.
Bernie, the woman? But my name's not even Bernie?
She frowned like Meghan Markle hearing a dog bark.
I chortled happily.
Exactly my dear!
