Heartland

I was in the office a bit late last night--stepped out about 9pm for an asbestos-free air break. On the way back up to the Sixth Floor, I caught the lift (eler-vator for us yanks) just as the doors were an inch away from closing. From within came the most frustrated bellow; it was something along the lines of, "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH."

Undaunted--my judgement impaired from staring at a computer screen for the previous twelve hours--I stepped inside. I was just so eager to return to ridding my desk of its heretofore standard stacks of paper, you know. I'm pleased to report they're now in much neater piles, and on the floor. Thanks for the inspiration, Jim.

Anyway, once within I became the recipient of a barrage of insanity from a man who didn't look terribly psychotic, apart from his suit and tie, which I can transcribe for you exactly thanks to the CIA's all-hearing ears, and their website's unofficial archives:

*shouted while pressing floor-button repeatedly*

"Why doesn't pressing the button make the doors close faster? It should make the doors close faster. Don't you think it should make the doors close faster? I'm a bit high-strung. Can you tell? I think I need to relax. You think I need to relax, don't you? I don't know how to relax. I'm a bit high-strung."

And so on.

Somewhere around the Fourth Floor I decided to unlock my eyes from the digital floor-numbers ticking higher and do something. I looked straight at him and said:

"Try medication."

At this, he went dead silent and stared at me as if I were completely mad, or had suddenly grown bunny ears out of my nose. I got off at my floor, without another syllable from him.

Well, I thought it was funny.


Any resemblance of the characters in this story to persons either living or dead is entirely intentional.

@ CorpPunk - I hope you dont work for the "Postal Service" or you could be having a rather unpleasent visit from that guy again!

CP, if you next see this guy with donuts...run..

I know a guy who worked for the postal service in Laurel MD...he survived...the wacko brought donuts the day he set fire...yep with a gun to the office. Big news in its day,

Be afraid...very afraid!

If I ever see him with donuts, I'll give him a shot of Prozac and then steal 'em while he's distracted by the mellowness! But only if they have sprinkles, cos otherwise I'm keeping the Prozac.

Good story. He might have been a web designer.

Jim wrote:Good story. He might have been a web designer.

That's for sure... eheheheheh

CorpPunk wrote:I was in the office a bit late last night--stepped out about 9pm for an asbestos-free air break. On the way back up to the Sixth Floor, I caught the lift (eler-vator for us yanks) just as the doors were an inch away from closing. From within came the most frustrated bellow; it was something along the lines of, "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH."

Undaunted--my judgement impaired from staring at a computer screen for the previous twelve hours--I stepped inside. I was just so eager to return to ridding my desk of its heretofore standard stacks of paper, you know. I'm pleased to report they're now in much neater piles, and on the floor. Thanks for the inspiration, Jim.

Anyway, once within I became the recipient of a barrage of insanity from a man who didn't look terribly psychotic, apart from his suit and tie, which I can transcribe for you exactly thanks to the CIA's all-hearing ears, and their website's unofficial archives:

*shouted while pressing floor-button repeatedly*

"Why doesn't pressing the button make the doors close faster? It should make the doors close faster. Don't you think it should make the doors close faster? I'm a bit high-strung. Can you tell? I think I need to relax. You think I need to relax, don't you? I don't know how to relax. I'm a bit high-strung."

And so on.

Somewhere around the Fourth Floor I decided to unlock my eyes from the digital floor-numbers ticking higher and do something. I looked straight at him and said:

"Try medication."

At this, he went dead silent and stared at me as if I were completely mad, or had suddenly grown bunny ears out of my nose. I got off at my floor, without another syllable from him.

Well, I thought it was funny.


Any resemblance of the characters in this story to persons either living or dead is entirely intentional.

LOL

Jim wrote:He might have been a web designer.

Don't be silly. Webmongers don't wear suits and ties.

He's probably a lawyer.

CorpPunk wrote:

Jim wrote:He might have been a web designer.

Don't be silly. Webmongers don't wear suits and ties.

He's probably a lawyer.

Now, now you'll be rattling the Major's cage................

Tinkerbell wrote:

CorpPunk wrote:

Jim wrote:He might have been a web designer.

Don't be silly. Webmongers don't wear suits and ties.

He's probably a lawyer.

Now, now you'll be rattling the Major's cage................

Any resemblance of characters in my posts to persons on this forum--whether living, dead, or fictional--is entirely intentional.

Cage rattled? I don't think so. I'll have you know I scrub up pretty well in a suit and tie. Dress down is one of the hazards of the modern age. I take my regular seat on the tube to work these days and the carriage looks as though it is full of louts and lasses on a club 18-30 holiday in transit from plane to alicante terminal. Long hair, bright colours, funny trousers, pointy shoes, bare mid-riffs, the lot. Complete shambles, and totally undermines any faith that they have even the slightest ability to think logically, clearly and rationally. Any of my team dress like that, I send them home to get changed.

Couple of years in the army would sort most of them out.

I do take my tie off on Friday afternoon though.

Major de Coverly wrote:Cage rattled? I don't think so. I'll have you know I scrub up pretty well in a suit and tie. Dress down is one of the hazards of the modern age. I take my regular seat on the tube to work these days and the carriage looks as though it is full of louts and lasses on a club 18-30 holiday in transit from plane to alicante terminal. Long hair, bright colours, funny trousers, pointy shoes, bare mid-riffs, the lot. Complete shambles, and totally undermines any faith that they have even the slightest ability to think logically, clearly and rationally. Any of my team dress like that, I send them home to get changed.

Couple of years in the army would sort most of them out.

I do take my tie off on Friday afternoon though.

Not a fan of pointy shoes Major? No wonder our love never blossomed....

Major de Coverly wrote:Any of my team dress like that, I send them home to get changed.

You have a team ? Oooo, I'm afraid of you.

Major de Coverly wrote:I do take my tie off on Friday afternoon though.

That's just about the time I usually put my ties on.

CorpPunk wrote:

Jim wrote:He might have been a web designer.

Don't be silly. Webmongers don't wear suits and ties.

He's probably a lawyer.

True, we tend to avoid it - maybe he had a meeting...

Mind you I wear this t-shirt when I'm meeting clients.

But those aren't my breasts.

You sure? They do seem mighty fine front bumps!!!

Major de Coverly wrote:Cage rattled? I don't think so. I'll have you know I scrub up pretty well in a suit and tie. Dress down is one of the hazards of the modern age. I take my regular seat on the tube to work these days and the carriage looks as though it is full of louts and lasses on a club 18-30 holiday in transit from plane to alicante terminal. Long hair, bright colours, funny trousers, pointy shoes, bare mid-riffs, the lot. Complete shambles, and totally undermines any faith that they have even the slightest ability to think logically, clearly and rationally. Any of my team dress like that, I send them home to get changed.

Couple of years in the army would sort most of them out.

I do take my tie off on Friday afternoon though.

It's good to know I'm not alone...There's nothing like seeing the thong up some girls back side and wondering...will she be wearing that whilst meeting with our clients?