Two steps right

You know, I know many people who would say that their job consists of moving pieces of paper around an office in ever increasingly complex patterns until it gets lost.

However, I never realised how hard this might be until this week, when the overwhelming stressness around the place has been the fact that we were picking up the office, piece by piece, sticking stickers on it, and preparing it for the fact that over this weekend, the whole damn thing is somehow shuffling itself 50 yards to the left (over a road), to be reassembled by the time I walk in on 8.30 (When I say it’s doing it ‘by the time I walk in I do realise it’s not doing it just for me, it’s just that I happen to be on Early on Monday, and I hope to be god it’ll be done by then, or I’ll be a bit screwed…)

So this afternoon I was standing outside having a calmy-down cigarette (yes, I know, I will give up in a minute, hush now…) I saw the big truck arriving to move all the cratey thing from one side of the road to the other. It was orange and bright. And called ‘Crates’r’us’ or ‘World’o’crates’ or ‘Rentacrate’ or something, but the thing I liked about them most was that they had their company motto painted in big words on the back – because they’re clearly (and I would be) very proud of it, and it read, in big letters:

‘Here come the crates!’

Well, woo! Because, well, that motto makes it sound like people are going to find the arrival of Crates very VERY exciting. And while they might find it slightly exciting, or more likely panic-worthy, I doubt that anyone would find it as exciting as the motto would seem to promise. But I like that they have such a jolly and suspense-ridden motto. And now I keep thinking that they must have a company song to go with ‘Here come the crates!’; based, surely around the motto.

Because there are lots of words that rhyme with crates.

Waits.

Baits.

Bill Gates.

Sates.

Rates.

Abates.

Compensates.

I’mNotSureHowToEndThisPostAndGoToBedBeforeItGetsTooLates.

Fates.

Communicates.

 

Oooh dear, there’s been a powercut, I can’t see. Dear dear.

Bed?