Do you recall that feeling when you get a new mobile phone and the first time it rings you have no idea it is yours? Yes, well I had that today. I sat at a desk in Sheffield and a phone started ringing and I sat there merrily typing away knowing it wasn't the Apple phone ringing because Cala Fluff wasn't smiling at me from it's screen.
Except it was for me. It was the work mobile that was charging and vibratiing around the floor. My new manager testing out my new number. I should have answered the phone and said "Good evening, Battersea Dogs Home. How may I help you?"
It has only taken 2 months to get the phone to me. It's amazing how completed requests attached to emails get lost in the internal email ethos. So there will be no more answering my personal mobile in a professional voice though I am not convinced I did that anyway and even if I did the fluff bags ruined it when they started barking in the background.
There will be no more worrying about whether my 750 contract minutes were going to stretch to all the hour long telekits I had been dialling into because my home phone randomly isn't working. Or the amusement or lack off when the fluff bags decide they want to join in the conversation or is it rip the delivery person's leg off who has dared to try and do his job and deliver a parcel?
Except the phone is rubbish so I am tempted to divert it to the Apple phone but on the downside I will still have no idea if it is a work call or not as all internal work numbers are automatically number blocked. At least I know it is a work call if the work mobile rings and I would know it wasn't the Apple ringing because I would never knowing choose such a bad ringtone.
I will also need a bigger handbag - it is already stuffed full of my purse, keys, phone and other unimportant equally important stuff. After all, there will be less room for pop now!
Hubby rang on my Apple earlier and so I knew I was in trouble. My hands and elbows are so painful today and having had to drag a suitcase around, along with a rucksack carrying the work laptop and paperwork that cannot go in the suitcase because it is too big to keep near me on a train, and my fit to bursting almost empty handbag I haven't really helped them. The tramadol has to wait until I get to the hotel room as I cannot very well get here and say "Sorry, Tramadol calls I am off to the hotel for a couple of hours, will be back soon. Ta Ta for now." can I?
So Hubby was calling to check that I was safe and sound in a hotel room dosed up and resting my extremeties. I should have gone there after my last training course and meeting finished at 3pm - except it was past 6pm, the person that lives in the tannoy has just announced that the building would close in less than an hour, and I had emails to do and documents to save to my desktop so I could work in the hotel room on the train to London tomorrow morning.
I could have tried lying but lets face it if the other extremely busy sad individual still at work at that time receives a phone call Hubby was going to ask why I have a man in my room. Would he accept room service? So I told the truth and went home 5 minutes later, honest.
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