Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Man Hunt

Wednesday saw Tigger and me meet up at the Nearest Circle of Hell. There were a number of reasons for this outing and they are outlined below in order of importance:-

  • My Social Development. 30% thinks it is very important for me to mix with other human beings on a regular basis. Apparently I get a bit "odd" if I spend too much time at home with just the dogs for company.
  • Spreading joy and delight amongst our colleagues. My interpretation of some of the looks we got during the day suggested that perhaps were just a bit too joyful for some of the people in the office
  • The barter of half a dozen eggs for one medium cup of black coffee plus two empty egg boxes. The chickens are laying like maniacs now Spring is here and I badly need containers for the glut.
  • General discourse on work in general and the continued character analysis assassination of the Idiot Manager. This latter discussion topic is now mandated whenever two or more job holders congregate for a period of more than 36 seconds. The discussion must be repetitive, not produce action items but must conclude that the man is, at the very least, a Tit.
  • A game of "Hunt the Senior Daemon".
It is this final  activity that is the subject of today's entry. Tigger and I have been instructed that we must request Governmental Security Clearance in case we get seconded on to some work that may be on the horizon. This, as you might expect, involves filling out several forms, and providing proof of one's identity.

I was somewhat reluctant to send one of my empty hunny jars and Tigger just didn't get it. He pointed out that EVERYONE knew who Tigger is, even very small children, so why would he need to prove his identity? I pointed out that he might need to get in to a secure location when there weren't any small children around to verify his credentials and integrity. Tigger wouldn't accept this until I pointed out that this might occur after their bedtime.

Tigger and I were still very reluctant to send in our passports as our job has a nasty habit of requiring us to cross the Atlantic at very short notice and this is tricky if your passport is 110 miles away on your Manager's desk. We therefore decided to submit a photocopy that had been duly certified, as a true and accurate copy, by a Senior Daemon at Dante's Nine Circles of Hell.

We foolishly thought it would be easy to find a Senior Daemon and wandered in to the Office we normally frequent. There was no sign at all of manager. We then wandered down to one of our old haunts and tried there. There was no-one of sufficient authority there either. Next on our list was a visit to see Grand Dad Jack. He knows everyone and we were sure he would be able to point us at someone...

... but there was no-one in Jack's lair* either. At this point we were getting desperate and wondered if a Restaurant Manager would do. Eventually, after three separate forays, Jack suggested we ask for assistance from one of his more rotund lionesses. She pointed us in the direction of a chap who was more than happy to validate a photocopy.  Job done, applications now in the post. The irony of this search is that Dante's is notorious for having a huge number of Daemons but on the one occasion you need to find one they are conspicuous in their absence.
* Jack's resides in his lair like a venerable, but still sprightly, lion. His favourite resting place gives him fine view of the plains and frequent sightings of young lionesses.

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