02 June 2012

Like Flaky Patsry

I arrived at work the other day to be accosted by the very nice but somewhat odd gentleman who sits at the desk opposite mine. (A man, it's important to note, who has informed me he has degrees in two scientific disciplines.)

"It's a worry, isn't it?" he said, waving a tissue in the air.

"What is?"

"Just before I went home last night I spilled a whole lot of water over my desk. I used this tissue to mop it up. It was sodden. I come in the this morning and it's bone dry. Makes you wonder what this place is doing to us - sucking all the moisture out of our organs and our blood. Not good. Not good at all."

He made it sound like walking through the doors at work was like being struck by the Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique - five steps and suddenly you transform into a desiccated pile of ash, there on the floor of the foyer. (I can tell you, it gets the cleaners quite vexed, and it keeps HR busy with recruitment - they work in a separate building, obviously.)

"Well," I said, "the thing is, tissues dont have skin."

He looked blank.

"Skin?" I continued on, more in hope than anger. "That's what our skin does: it kind of protects everything and prevents total annihilation via dehydration while we're here."

I wanted to add: but don't worry, the work place still manages to suck us dry each and every day! I put my headphones on instead.

1 comment:

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