Blonde's Eye View: The great emergency work call
Angela Clarke enjoys the new-look Waitrose until she is rudely interrupted by the staple afflicted
I've left the office for the day. I'm starting to unwind. I've stopped wearing my shoulders as earrings.
I'm in the newly revamped Waitrose picking up bits before meeting up with someone.
The redecorated store, with its abundance of brushed stainless steel, still feels unlike any supermarket I've seen in this country, and thus automatically makes me feel like I'm on holiday.
Everything is jolly and calm when my phone starts to ring. Is there anything more soul destroying than having your free time desecrated by an emergency work call?
I have an issue with the whole idea of emergency work calls. I am not a doctor, so unless there has been a freak accident with the stapler, it's safe to assume no-one is dying.
I once had a boss who used to quip, "unless the office is on fire don't call me". Which pretty much sums it up.
Whatever the neurotic self-important pen pusher on the other end of the phone has to say, I bet you my entire shoe collection it could wait until 9 o'clock the next morning.
But, alas, I get dragged into some faux office emergency that eats into my free time. I stand there grinding my teeth as they try to shake a paperclip free from the printer and wonder aloud if we should call yet more people. Yeah, sure, why not? Everyone would love to have a conference call at 8pm.
Eventually, as with all faux office emergencies, the idiot on the other line decides that yes, actually, this can wait until the morning.
Which is just fandabbydozy because I've already lost 45 minutes of my evening, and I'm now late for meeting that person I had to see. Extra, extra annoying because that person in question is interviewing me for a new job.
This is one out of hours office emergency too many.