Save My Soul

Shh.

The Ominous B.I. * might notice I'm in the office now.

I didn't come in until 11 a.m. today, not just because I was in the office til 1 a.m. last night but because I really, really need a break from the Ominous B.I. So I chatted with the staff at Pret A Manger and got a free iced mocha to sip on while I maintain my distance from him.

He left me a voicemail and just sent me an email. I estimate the time of his arrival in my office to be just before 'lunchtime' (his lunchtimes run to bizarre lengths and hours). I figure if I stay here in my office long enough, something - I don't know what exactly, an earthquake? a tornado? - will stop him from approaching me and bathing me with his coffee breath. Or not.

I spent the whole of last night asking myself why I dislike the B.I. so much. Could it be his amazing ignorance of the law? Could it be his halitosis? Could it be that he never realises his mistakes and carries on blithely like a nutter on skates headed towards a railtrack where a train is steaming at full speed towards him (and his clients, and myself, all tied together to him)? Could it be that his incompetence makes me stay late at night to rectify his infantile mistakes? Could it be hell.

Yesterday, the B.I. told me that I should really stop arguing with him all the time. I felt like slapping him**, because if I stop arguing with him, that means I would be letting him carry on being an incompetent ball of lard and risk leading clients down the winding path to disaster. If I argue with him, I have to face his halitosis. Oh heck. Why do I even care? Why can't I just leave everything to go to pot?

I hear his voice coming towards my office. Help.


* My so-called supervisor, the Ominous Bumbling Idiot.
** This was such a 'Chariots of Fire' moment, I cannot believe I forgot to explain this earlier. The B.I. had just finished saying, "J-A, you really must stop arguing with me all the time, you know," and suddenly, my office was filled with the music of the theme song from 'Chariots of Fire'; there was a cheering crowd; the stadium was ready for action; and I could see my left hand moving in slow motion towards the B.I.'s right cheek. I was glorying in the moment of fantastic impact (the imaginary crowd going wild at the satisfying 'Thwack!' ringing out through the stadium) but then the music zapped out and I came to my senses again in the nick of time to stop my hand from actually playing out the fantasy.