It's Valentine's Day......rumour has it!
By John Elliot - 03/02/2010
Excitement abounds. St. Valentine’s Day approaches. Who will receive cards? Expectation around the office is high. Egos are in overdrive.
Question is: did St. Val., patron saint of chocolates, cuddly toys, flowers and tasteless cards realise what he was doing when first he uttered the immortal words “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue” etc.
And of course there are the rumours emanating there from and nowhere better than the work place for whispering unkept secrets. “Have you heard about ….. Keep it to yourself….. Don’t tell a soul……” The staple diet of the coffee machine huddle.
Certain people will always get cards of course. For example, Lucy of the blonde hair and long legs, affectionately known as Jaffa, a nick name referring not so much to her dietery inclination as to the amount of time she spends on the municipal sun beds.
Then there is Alpacia, personal assistant to the MD, a fine woman of unknown provenance, who, it is rumoured, is on the paramilitary wing of the local Womens’ Institute. In keeping with most ladies in her position, she actually runs the company whilst allowing the Managing Director to believe that he does.
Then there is Jason, or until recently there was Jason, unfortunately dismissed for inappropriate use of office equipment. It transpired that when in an advanced state of inebriation and in an effort to further his quest to establish himself as a ladies man, he decided that photographic evidence would advance his cause, but instead of pocketing the photocopied sheet of A4, to be produced at social functions amidst admiration and congratulation, he decided to commit it to Email for the benefit of all departments. He may well have got away with it had it not been for a certain member of staff recognising a tattoo that would not normally be exposed to sunlight.
I digress. The day of St. Val. Should be celebrated and it was. When Jeremy, the MD, opened his card and recognised Lucy’s handwriting, expressing undying affection, his habitual air of despondency dissipated. Acting decisively he booked an expensive restaurant and asked her to dinner that very evening. She was so surprised that she accepted impulsively, although not as surprised as Jeremy will be when he discovers that the card was not sent from his beloved Lucy but from Maurice, the master forger, in Accounts.
But then again that could just be a rumour.
John Elliott