Welcome Back, 1984!

Some weird things happened yesterday.

The weirdness started when I contacted the IT person at my new office to assist me with a problem. When he exclaimed, “Why is it DOING that?!!?!!”, I felt distinctly less reassured than I hoped I would after chatting with Stu.

Following that, a woman with a beard that could rival that of my lovely ex-maid Mary the Cleaner (I miss her – that woman knew what she was doing!), arrived in my office, sat down, kind of introduced herself, pressed a button on my computer, ticked off something on an official-seeming list and ran off. Felt a little violated, I did.

Finally, a person I worked with five years ago at another company has begun working with us again. Back then, in 2006, she wore pant(s)suits that were fashionable in 1984. Now, before we go further, it is worthwhile to point out that anything that was fashionable in 1984 was, by virtue of the fact that it WAS 1984, hideous. A woman with generous hips became mountainous. A woman with generous breasts became a walking advert for backache. So, when I saw my former-former-now-current colleague wearing the very same pantsuits, blouses, high-waisted jeans and boyish hairdo of five years ago, I realised that there is clearly not a clothing shop in a 50km radius from where she lives. That has to be it. Nothing she has worn in the 2.5 weeks she’s been working with us is something I’ve not seen before. They made clothing strong in the 80s, they did.

As a result, I’ve found that a smirk has become my standard facial expression. I suppose it’s better than my usual vacant visage.

News just in: another colleague is locked in the toilet. Maintenance has been called. If their response time is as good as some of the IT staff here, my colleague will have to have lunched passed to her under the bog’s door.