Phone call at work. It’s Dad.
Usually when my Dad calls me, it’s one of two things:
- He wants/needs me to do something involving a parcel
- It’s Mum
I quietly apologise to my colleagues and step away from the desk. Walking out into the corridor, I find one of those weird cylindrical chair-thingys that are meant to make your conversation inaudible to passers by…some kind of furniture witchcraft, if you ask me.
“Hi Dad, you ok?”
“Are you in work?”
“Are you working hard?”
“What have you achieved?”
“What have I–what? Dad-”
“Today, have you achieved anything?”
“Yes, in work”.
“I, erm…well, no. Not yet, at least. It’s not even 11am.”
“Well then, get back to work, SLACKER. HONESTLY, taking personal calls in the office? How unprofessional”
He hangs up. I’m left alone in the cylindrical chair-thingy. What just happened?