Boom, come with me a moment will you?
El-Jefe, a cross between a giant amoeba and a fat walrus and who also happened to be my boss crooked a finger at me from a doorway to a nearby meeting room in the office.
Oh baws.
Grumbling, I pushed myself up from my chair and stretched like a big handsome tiger that was coming to tea.
Coming, Boss man.
I trailed toward the finger that was twitching like a caterpillar in a German's cereal bowl and tried to put my game face on. The one that was more like yes boss, how can I help today boss? and not Fuck you monster tits, I'm outta here.
Take a seat, this won't take long.
El-Jefe shuffled some papers on the desk before him and chuffled with his jowls as if he were incubating a sticky brown kitten somewhere in his musty depths.
Sup, dudeski-bob?
I did my best to look unconcerned despite me noticing that some of the papers he was fannying about with had my name on them. As any office worker knows, especially in the IT game, you put your name on nothing. That's how you survive in the paper jungle.
Well, Boomdawg. I have news for you, good news I think.
El-Jefe did his level best to look serious and pondery but just looked like a big silverback munching on one of its shits whilst wondering if bourbon tasted any better.
Oh aye. Why would you have any news for me at all is the question going through my head.
I fixed him with The Driller, a patented eye glare that could reduce the strongest of chaps to a quivering jelly.
The problem in this case was that El-Jefe was already a quivering slab of jelly stuffed into some cheap trousers and a shirt and The Driller wobbled right off him.
Why didn't you tell me?
El-Jefe casually flicked one of the pieces of paper he had been pawing at over to me.
A quick glance revealed it to be a printed-out copy of my job application for another team. An interesting job in the fact that it was for doing exactly the same thing as I currently did but in a different team with a different boss.
In other words, I had applied for the job so I could get out of the way of El-Jefe's long and overly podgy shadow.
However now it looked like the game was up and I had been caught.
Bugger.
It seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.
I offered half-heartedly.
Too good an opportunity? To do the same job you do now but working for The Tristan instead of me?
El-Jefe steepled his fingers together to make what looked like a dead octopus at the end of his wrists.
Fuck it, you know. A change is as good as a holiday. Anyway, why are you talking to me about this instead of The Tristan?
I furrowed my brow and jutted my jaw out like that time Sandra from the Drum attempted to sit on my face and I realised that more than anything else, it was a bit of an inconvenience.
El-Jefe grunted and nodded grudgingly at me as if I had scored a direct hit on his battleship.
That's the news. You got the job. Well done.
He clucked and for some odd reason looked down quizzically at his trousers and attempted to tuck a stray shirt flap back into his waistband before looking back up.
But it's better than that. The Tristan has handed in his notice. He is leaving and guess what? I am taking over his team! So it looks like me and you, the Dream Team will carry on.
He looked at me expectantly. My face was frozen in a strange grimace as if someone had offered me grilled Aubergine.
Together, big guy. Nothing can stop us!
El-Jefe smacked his hands together and leaned over to shake my hand.
Grimly I took the hand and pumped it up and down a couple of times. For a moment I considered crashing a clawed hand into his big soft belly to haul his guts out and wear them on my head and pronounce myself the dread god Cthulhu before leaping to my death from the nearest window.
Snapping myself from my daydream, I noticed the Jefe-lump had left the room.
Damn.
