Things took a turn for the bizarre at beaver central yesterday.
I'd just returned from lunch and had arranged the separate tabs on Internet Explorer for the NZ Herald, Gmail and the slowest website in the world, aka theultimatebeaver.com.au. I had my phone switched to silent beside my keyboard so I could take private calls and check Facebook and Twitter at will. I had my ‘Boss Screen’ spreadsheet of multicoloured columns and rows ready to flick to just in case a senior beaver checked I was still plugging away at holes in the dam. I was ready for work.
In the middle of reading about Miss Mexico winning Miss Universe my sphincter began to spasm which could mean only one or two of two things. Either I had drunk too much of the free Moccona in the kitchen, the Grand Beaver was approaching or I had drunk too much Moccona and the Grand Beaver was approaching. I opted for the safety first approach so clenched my buttocks, switched to spreadsheet and picked up my phone to have a conversation with the dial tone.
The Grand Beaver waited until I had thanked the dial tone for its time and then asked me if I had time for a 15 minute meeting. My mouth was as surprised by this as my sphincter and refused to open so I nodded. The walk to meeting Room 6 was only a few metres but felt like a few metres more. My colleagues looked at me with pity and perverse pleasure.
We sat opposite each other and the Grand Beaver opened his leather folder to a blank page. It was then that I noticed his eyes were crooked.
“I’ve been watching you Greg.”
Wow, his eyes are really crooked.
“I’ve been hearing some good feedback about your work.”
I wonder if he’s had Bell’s palsy.
“I don’t know anything about you, I don’t even know your age. Tell me a bit about yourself and where you see yourself going.”
I friend of mine had Bell’s palsy at primary school.
“You have a real aptitude for probing.”
His name was Scott I think.
“I think it’s time we stimulated your probing skills.”
Yes, his name was Scott. He moved to Australia.
“I’d like you to aim for five face to face beaver meetings a week.”
It happened really quickly, one day he was fine and then the next…WTF?
“You’d like me to meet with beavers in Sydney?”
“No, even though we’re calling beavers in Sydney I’d like for you to set up meetings with their associate beavers in Melbourne to convince their Sydney beavers to submit a beaver for our fastest website in the world.”
I thought Bell’s palsy went away by itself though.
“Try and set up 5 beaver meetings a week. I’ll keep and eye on you and if you meet these targets I think I could arrange some increases in your hourly rate.”
Maybe he was just born with a lop-sided face.
“We’re always on the look out for people to place in permanent roles here at Beaver Central. Would that interest you?”
I remember the whole class walked to Scott’s house to visit him. That was nice.
“Keep up the good work Greg.”
If, by good work he meant this picture of Bono I had spent the morning hilariously manipulating in Paint, I was happy to comply.
This was done to irritate my Irish co-worker who I shall call Tiddly Tee to protect her identity. As a professional thespian I am using this opportunity to perfect my Irish invective by saying, ‘Tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly POOOOTAEEETOOOS!’ to her on the hour every hour and them closely listening to the torrent of authentic Irish abuse that follows.
She was giddy with excitement with the news that Bono, The Edge, The Side and The Back were bringing their Giant Claw Tour to Melbourne and I knew this picture would get her all riled up and further my professional development. She says I sound like a “stoopid fookin leprechaun” and everybody knows leprechauns are Irish so I think she is saying my Irish accent is good.
I wish I could have meetings like I had yesterday in my other line of work. Imagine if during the filming of ‘The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe’ Andrew Adamson had pulled me aside and said something like:
“I’ve been watching you Greg and I’ve heard some really good feedback about your faun acting. I don’t know anything about you, I don’t even know your age however this McAvoy guy just isn’t working out as Mr Tumnis so I’d like to offer you the role. Here’s a contract for a huge amount of money now go down to set and meet the beavers.”
I was planning to blog yesterday but was so traumatised by the meeting I couldn’t do it. The very thought of working permanently at Beaver Central filled me with an unimaginable horror. How could my complete disdain for everything associated with this campaign be perceived as an aptitude for probing. What the hell is probing anyway? I just want to keep this gig going until the end of September without any more responsibility. My sensitive co-workers sensed my pain and took me to the kitchen for my 15th Moccona and a chat. The Grand Beaver’s PA, who I shall call Gouda, told me he said exactly the same thing to her and it’s all a load of bollocks. Tiddly Tee said “Pooootaetoo poooootaetoo!” to cheer me up.
As I sipped my Moccona my sphincter finally relaxed and I went to the toilet. The PDF man was still there.
I'd just returned from lunch and had arranged the separate tabs on Internet Explorer for the NZ Herald, Gmail and the slowest website in the world, aka theultimatebeaver.com.au. I had my phone switched to silent beside my keyboard so I could take private calls and check Facebook and Twitter at will. I had my ‘Boss Screen’ spreadsheet of multicoloured columns and rows ready to flick to just in case a senior beaver checked I was still plugging away at holes in the dam. I was ready for work.
In the middle of reading about Miss Mexico winning Miss Universe my sphincter began to spasm which could mean only one or two of two things. Either I had drunk too much of the free Moccona in the kitchen, the Grand Beaver was approaching or I had drunk too much Moccona and the Grand Beaver was approaching. I opted for the safety first approach so clenched my buttocks, switched to spreadsheet and picked up my phone to have a conversation with the dial tone.
The Grand Beaver waited until I had thanked the dial tone for its time and then asked me if I had time for a 15 minute meeting. My mouth was as surprised by this as my sphincter and refused to open so I nodded. The walk to meeting Room 6 was only a few metres but felt like a few metres more. My colleagues looked at me with pity and perverse pleasure.
We sat opposite each other and the Grand Beaver opened his leather folder to a blank page. It was then that I noticed his eyes were crooked.
“I’ve been watching you Greg.”
Wow, his eyes are really crooked.
“I’ve been hearing some good feedback about your work.”
I wonder if he’s had Bell’s palsy.
“I don’t know anything about you, I don’t even know your age. Tell me a bit about yourself and where you see yourself going.”
I friend of mine had Bell’s palsy at primary school.
“You have a real aptitude for probing.”
His name was Scott I think.
“I think it’s time we stimulated your probing skills.”
Yes, his name was Scott. He moved to Australia.
“I’d like you to aim for five face to face beaver meetings a week.”
It happened really quickly, one day he was fine and then the next…WTF?
“You’d like me to meet with beavers in Sydney?”
“No, even though we’re calling beavers in Sydney I’d like for you to set up meetings with their associate beavers in Melbourne to convince their Sydney beavers to submit a beaver for our fastest website in the world.”
I thought Bell’s palsy went away by itself though.
“Try and set up 5 beaver meetings a week. I’ll keep and eye on you and if you meet these targets I think I could arrange some increases in your hourly rate.”
Maybe he was just born with a lop-sided face.
“We’re always on the look out for people to place in permanent roles here at Beaver Central. Would that interest you?”
I remember the whole class walked to Scott’s house to visit him. That was nice.
“Keep up the good work Greg.”
If, by good work he meant this picture of Bono I had spent the morning hilariously manipulating in Paint, I was happy to comply.
This was done to irritate my Irish co-worker who I shall call Tiddly Tee to protect her identity. As a professional thespian I am using this opportunity to perfect my Irish invective by saying, ‘Tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly tiddly POOOOTAEEETOOOS!’ to her on the hour every hour and them closely listening to the torrent of authentic Irish abuse that follows.
She was giddy with excitement with the news that Bono, The Edge, The Side and The Back were bringing their Giant Claw Tour to Melbourne and I knew this picture would get her all riled up and further my professional development. She says I sound like a “stoopid fookin leprechaun” and everybody knows leprechauns are Irish so I think she is saying my Irish accent is good.
I wish I could have meetings like I had yesterday in my other line of work. Imagine if during the filming of ‘The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe’ Andrew Adamson had pulled me aside and said something like:
“I’ve been watching you Greg and I’ve heard some really good feedback about your faun acting. I don’t know anything about you, I don’t even know your age however this McAvoy guy just isn’t working out as Mr Tumnis so I’d like to offer you the role. Here’s a contract for a huge amount of money now go down to set and meet the beavers.”
I was planning to blog yesterday but was so traumatised by the meeting I couldn’t do it. The very thought of working permanently at Beaver Central filled me with an unimaginable horror. How could my complete disdain for everything associated with this campaign be perceived as an aptitude for probing. What the hell is probing anyway? I just want to keep this gig going until the end of September without any more responsibility. My sensitive co-workers sensed my pain and took me to the kitchen for my 15th Moccona and a chat. The Grand Beaver’s PA, who I shall call Gouda, told me he said exactly the same thing to her and it’s all a load of bollocks. Tiddly Tee said “Pooootaetoo poooootaetoo!” to cheer me up.
As I sipped my Moccona my sphincter finally relaxed and I went to the toilet. The PDF man was still there.
Hoity-Toity fiddle-dee-dee Poootatoooeeee!
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