Phoning it in.
Maybe things have changed in the last ten, fifteen years, but the cut and thrust of the daily office derring do is now signified by the slight thrum of fingers speedily tapping away on keys; in the land of instant communication, email is king.
Of course critical, or sometimes more ripe conversation is still expressed best over the phone, and so it goes that this rainy, downcast Monday was illuminated by one Wichitan striding up and down the office gangway engaged in a heated yet measured discussion with an unidentified caller. They’re always interested conversations to pseudo-ear wig on; for a non-intrinsic inhabitant like myself, it’s a fantastic way of catching part of a state-of-the-nation address record stylee and find out what the dirt is,
. Not real dirt y’see, for that’s probably discussed / disseminated / rectified in more private surroundings, but at least enough gossip to make your ears prick up and feverishly put the unheard parts of the conversation together into an suitable confused 2+2 = 9 equation.
Aaaanyway. The joyous moment came quite far down the line when the soon-to-be-immortal phrase ‘What? You went over the top but forgot to build the tank?’ Was uttered by said Wichitan, possibly in reference to that much repeated folly of booking an entire album campaign before you’ve finished making a record. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just me that grinned behind my monitor. Possibly you had to be there, but it was a moment of what they call office gold.
It really was x