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lederhosenFirst, you have to understand where I work. When you come out of the lifts, you turn left and head down a corridor past optometrists and publicists and our graphics team. At the very end of the corridor, to the left there's the IT department and to the right there's the Mathematicians' Ghetto, where Simon and I work.
(This makes it very easy for us to pester IT when things go wrong, as this morning when a crash wiped out a week's work - though I think I've recovered it all now, and taken steps to prevent a repeat of this. But I digress.)
Every so often, newbies and visitors are given The Tour. Typically, this concludes thus:
GUIDE pokes her head around doorway. "This is %NEW_PERSON, $JOB_DESCRIPTOR. $NEW_PERSON, this is Simon. He's a... [pause] mathematician?" (Simon nods.) "Yes, mathematician."
At this point - I'm in a bit of a corner behind the door - I cough.
GUIDE: "And this is Geoffrey. He's... um."
ME: "Also a mathematician."
GUIDE: "Right."
Lately they've become a bit more forgetful. The other day, we got this:
GUIDE (up the corridor): "This is the graphics department, and that's pretty much it. The only thing up that way is IT."
SIMON AND ME: *loud aheming*
GUIDE: "Oh! Who are you?" She pokes head around door, and from there we slip into the abovementioned routine. Except, this time she didn't even seem to recognise me.
This is what we get for being mathematicians in an organisation staffed mostly by biochemists and optometrists, I guess. Today, however, the tables have turned. Simon has brought his new baby in... and we have agreed that only those who remembered our existence will be allowed to adore him.
(This makes it very easy for us to pester IT when things go wrong, as this morning when a crash wiped out a week's work - though I think I've recovered it all now, and taken steps to prevent a repeat of this. But I digress.)
Every so often, newbies and visitors are given The Tour. Typically, this concludes thus:
GUIDE pokes her head around doorway. "This is %NEW_PERSON, $JOB_DESCRIPTOR. $NEW_PERSON, this is Simon. He's a... [pause] mathematician?" (Simon nods.) "Yes, mathematician."
At this point - I'm in a bit of a corner behind the door - I cough.
GUIDE: "And this is Geoffrey. He's... um."
ME: "Also a mathematician."
GUIDE: "Right."
Lately they've become a bit more forgetful. The other day, we got this:
GUIDE (up the corridor): "This is the graphics department, and that's pretty much it. The only thing up that way is IT."
SIMON AND ME: *loud aheming*
GUIDE: "Oh! Who are you?" She pokes head around door, and from there we slip into the abovementioned routine. Except, this time she didn't even seem to recognise me.
This is what we get for being mathematicians in an organisation staffed mostly by biochemists and optometrists, I guess. Today, however, the tables have turned. Simon has brought his new baby in... and we have agreed that only those who remembered our existence will be allowed to adore him.
