Surrounded by Turkeys

I was in the midst of a pre-movie dinner at a nice restaurant around 7pm last night, serene in the knowledge that the following day was a public holiday, when my phone rang. After ignoring a couple of calls (I had a dark suspicion it might be work), I relented and answered. Fatal mistake, naturally.

It was indeed work-related, and my presence would be required at the office at 8am this (holiday) morning to sort out some job, the original creator of which had disappeared on leave. I would be briefed on arrival by client service people. Begrudgingly I set the alarm last night, dragged myself out of bed for a slice of toast and entered the unhallowed halls of the office at five minutes to eight this morning.

Picture my irritation as 15 minutes, then half an hour went by without the promised client service or production people showing up. After several frustrated calls (other people are more astute about switching their phones off), it emerged that my sole reason for being there was to drag a folder containing the job from one server onto another server.

Because heaven knows, anybody else might be electrocuted if they touched the computer. And it's not like I could have told them over the phone where the job was filed, what an outlandish notion. Then of course there's the fact that the instigators of this plan all had more important things to do than BE AT WORK AT 8 O' CLOCK ON A NATIONAL HOLIDAY JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS.