I'm a girl. When I poo, I do not wish other people to start calling my name - but my colleague did. Repeatedly. "Do you happen to be in here?"
The first time it happened, words failed me. Now I'm kinda used to it. "What?"
"The guest is having difficulties connecting to the wifi."
Rolling my eyes up, I mustered an answer. "Too bad, the guest will have to wait 15 minutes. I'm... busy."
But I couldn't finish the dump. My colleague had scared the poor poo-poos into hiding higher up my arse.
With such a mood I went off to the company's guest area. "Hi, sorry that you're unable to connect to our wif-" And like in the movies, the kind that cast Drew Barrymore, the guest lifted his d*mn handsome face. Like, super-handsome. I've never seen a company guest this handsome. Like the byproduct of a lab's crossing experiment between Andy Lau Tak-wah and Snoop Dog.
While I was half-helping the guest half-dreaming about what our kid together would look like, my tactless colleague's eyes caught mine. The one who'd patrolled bathrooms in search for me. And I realized, in horror, that she'd probably told him what she had thought I'd been doing then.
But in all fairness, I wish that the internet in my country will get better now that it's half a year to 2018. I mean c'mon, it's about time. Don't you think so?
0 comments:
Post a Comment