h a l f b a k e r y
No, not that kind of baked.
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I stood in the middle of the office, listening to the rhythm of computer keyboards, printers, copiers... the gurgle of the water cooler... the soft hum of the air conditioner. I could hear the sound of a small group of women singing "Happy Birthday" to someone named Carol, off to my left. The smell
of coffee and chocolate cake was tantalising. I breathed deeply.
This was my business!
No-one would suspect that the cubicles hid machines that simply made those sounds; that the people striding purposefully from cubicle to office and back were paid actors.
The staff were all off running their own businesses from other locations while the work, which they never really did anyway, was not being done here.
Nothing would change, and on the off-chance that Mr Bigwig did make an appearance there was little chance he would notice anything amiss.
Of course, none of this came cheap. I took 1/3 of all salaries earned here, from the earners, in exchange for making this straw "village" look realistic.
Next, the military, and those obsolescent battleships.
[link]
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Don't forget government departments. |
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Aside: I'd be tempted to vote on this if only my votes weren't so impotent. I think I've had one vote work in my halfbakery career. |
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You need to take your voting equipment off to a fertility clinic. Don't be shy. |
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Yeah but when those one-in-a-million votes actually work - boy howdy, the feeling is amazing and well worth waiting for. |
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Haven't seen the film, but the office sounds good. |
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//1/3 of all salaries earned here// Is that the set rate? Probably worth it, but after taxes, I'd be making half or less of gross salary. I guess with all my new free time I could get a part-time job. |
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You certain a scarecrow wouldn't suffice? |
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We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar |
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Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion ...... |
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This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper. |
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The Hollow Men (edited version)
T. S. Eliot (1925) |
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Oh you who turn the wheel and look to windward, consider Phlebas who once stood tall and handsome as you... |
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...did you know that T.S. Eliot is an anagram of toilets? |
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Did I mention I owned one of these offices for two years? |
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[xz] Thanks for the memory, I used to love that poem as a kid. |
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Wagster - did you know that: "Consider Phlebas" is an
anagram of "penis scab holder" ? - thought not. |
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No I didn't, thanks for making me that little bit more educated. |
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Fantastic, good laugh... Methinks pastry all round [+] |
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Did you all know that Jeremy Irons is an anagram of Jeremy's iron? |
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Jeremy's Iron? Where's the apostrophe? I actually work in one of those offices, on certain days. |
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