It was a quiet day and so far the phone hadn’t rung once, and to be fair, who’s going to ring Customer Service on December 27th? Nobody, that’s who. As you can probably tell I drew the short straw and had to come in to man the phones, and the other poor soul forced to make up the skeleton crew of the office of the damned was Steven with a “v”.
After four hours I’d read our online terms and conditions twice (just to have something to do), rationing the paragraphs to make them last as long as possible, and the conversation with Steven was starting to get dangerously serious.
“Would you rather…have the head and neck of a giraffe or the body of a giraffe?” He enquired.
Please don’t make me answer this I thought.
Steven was still expecting an answer.
“Hmm…” I pondered. And this was how bad it got, I answered and tried to reason my answer.
“I would have the body, it’d be easier to get around. Plus if you had a giraffe neck it’d be a pain drinking coffee. You’d have to put the cup down on the other side of the room then lean down to it.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Enquired a passerby from another department. Steven relayed the question. “Body obviously, the neck would be stupid.”
“What’s this about?” Another intruder. Same question repeated. Opinions given.
“But if you had the body it’d look so weird.”
“And a giraffe neck wouldn’t?”
“How would you pick up stuff though?”
“You’d still have hoofs.”
“I can’t clutch a drink with two hoofs.”
“Sure you can, you just put them together.”
Steven on one side of me, the other two on the other. Mentally my brain packed an overnight bag, leaked out of my ear, and jumped off my shoulder towards the door. If you were there you might see me with a dead expression and vacant eyes. It’s a very handy skill to have in Customer Service when you have irate customers, I’ve honed it over time.
Briefly I came to. The conversation had turned to how giraffes would give birth. My brain died again, this time with so much deadness that I wouldn’t be surprised to see dribble coming out of the side of my mouth.
Back to life again.
“You can’t get a giraffe-horse hybrid.”
Black out. I was an inch away from smashing my face on the keyboard.
“Anyone want to play Twister?”
I looked up straight away to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating or losing my mind. But there they were, an I.T. technician with a box of Twister under his arm. If it was a hallucination it was a bloody good one.
We all looked at each other with a smile.
“The phone’s only rung once.” Steven added in. We all exchanged another look of smiles which secretly said “let’s do it.”. No bosses in sight and this will be an urban legend amongst the company. The skeleton crew that played Twister at Christmas.