Wednesday was quite an average day, other than the sun of course, which chose to glare through our (greenhouse-like) wonderfully designed, contemporary, modern workplace building.
I entered my workplace and set about business as usual (catching up with the colleagues).
However, there was quite a stir and flurry of activity going on around the main area, followed by an exclaim every now and again. Our customers around that area were also joining in with the shenanigans.
Me being me, and not at all nosey, in any way, shape or form (I call it research) had to go and see what was going on.
Well, to put you in the picture, our greenhouse style building had become so hot, that staff decided to open the patio doors (oooohhh- got you wondering haven't I!), and a large number of huge, hairy, noisy (don't get too excited!) FLY'S had decided to come in for a chat. This did not please staff or customers, and as we all (of course I had to!) joined in the ducking, diving and swatting, a heroine in the form of The Big Boss wondered what on earth was occurring!
It took one glance from her to see the intruders. "I have got just the thing!" and off she went on a mission.
Back she came at record speed and handed to our line manager........a tennis racket.
Yes, a tennis racket .
We all looked at her as if she had lost her mind...BUT no, she hadn't. This wasn't any ordinary racquet...it was called 'The Executioner'...really! I jest you not.
So, let me just explain a bit more before I continue. I hadn't had a good morning, not only was it a rush getting five people out of the house and three little rascals delivered to the appropriate places, I, on leaving the house, perfectly groomed (kinda) decided, house-proudly, to put out the trash.
Bin bag broke, sending beans and bean juice the full length of my clothes, and splattering the floor epically.
So, having cursed the darn rubbish bag, cleaned the floor and changed my outfit, my morning was looking akin to 'And It's One Of Those Days' post, which resulted in my dashing into work at break-neck speed...which I nearly did at one point!
And that's where I left off, so, walking into work, I met with this fly dominated situation...lordy.
Now, I introduce you to Bevlar...Bevlar is our line manager, a demure, degree level educated, proffesional in her line of work. She knows and adheres to the rules of play and makes sure everyone else does to. She keeps us running like clockwork (if we stop we know about it!).
|Bevlar with 'The Executioner'....It's true!|
Bevlar doesn't like flies
As soon as Miss Big Boss handed the racket to her, she was like a woman posessed!
The instruction was to press the button on the handle and swat the fly...simples...
Was it galumpy!...Bevlar was on a mission, it was anything but simples...even the flies that were running out of steam were giving Bevlar the Fly Chaser a run for her money.
My line manager flew from one end of the area to the other, weilding said racket. Her little leg flicking up at each shot just like Serena Williams! Serena, you ain't got nuthin on The Bevlar.
I have to say that even typing this, I am crying with laughter at the memory!
The day continued in this vein, daily duties were performed and every now and again, Bevlar would shoot out of her chair weilding said racket, disappearing between cupboards and filing cabinets, making thudding noises, whispering some curses, then returned to her desk, quietly continuing to work.
What is also amusing, is that our customers, who know what we're like either didn't bat an eyelid, or laughed with us.
So, the result? how many fly casualties did we have by the end of the set?
Yes, one miserable hairy fly kicked the bucket.