Diet Coke High

Sometimes I feel like my life is an episode of Saturday Night Live. Today, "Nick Burns, Your Company's Computer Guy" came to my workspace with a brand new software that would make my life 5,000 times easier gripped in one hand, and a 1.5 liter bottle of Diet Coke in the other. His name was actually David, but we'll call him Nick Burns because the resemblance was uncanny (just add about 100 pounds). So, Nick Burns huffs and puffs over to my space, awkwardly walks past it and checks the number, and then walks back and says, "so you're Lisa!" I say, "Yes, indeed I am!" Feeling obligated to quickly get out of my chair so the master could work his caffinated magic, I sidled out of the way so he could lumber into my chair. He then proceeded to close out all of my 18 open windows, some which needed to be saved, but I kept my cringes to a minimum and took a deep breath. Guess I'll have to stay late tonight! (Guess writing this blog will further the stay!)

As Nick Burns installed Bradbury Phillips onto my machine, I bit my nails and played with my hair, staring off into the wide, sterile abyss that is my floor. My reverie was soon interrupted when Nick Burns began speaking to the computer. He held the mouse with his hand cocked sideways, so his elbow stuck out like a chicken wing. Each button clicked on with said mouse, was announced: "Start." "Open." "Next." "Ok." "Install." I felt like I was in the car with a child who was in the nascent stages of reading, reciting each passing sign on the roadside. When the installation bar slowly began filling up with blue, Nick Burns leaned back in my chair, took a swig of Diet Coke, scratched his leg for a few seconds, and said "Is it 5:00 yet?" I chuckled, agreeing that yes, I too hope the day is almost over... ha....

...

ha. He then pulled his Blackberry out and began reading his emails aloud, separating them with noises like "ch ch ch," and "hmmmm." Then he began shouting at the poor thing, at which point I jumped, thinking it might have been directed at me. "No, that's when you deactivated your account!" "What are you talking about apply synchronization!?!" "That was WAY too much information for me."

The blue bar finally filled up, and Nick Burns huffed away from my desk. So here I sit, my chair quite a few degrees warmer than it had when he arrived. My mouse is sweaty and there are spit marks on my monitor.