Settling in

I'm bored of this already. Kez must be worried that I'm going to steal her job away from her because she gets to the phone before I can even lift my finger to push the button and she volunteers for everything. It's sweet in a way but she's making me look lazy. There's still plenty for me to do but every time a boss walks past Kez is looking busy and I'm just sitting staring intently at my screen. Although I pull a pretty good "I'm busy" face, Kez nearly blew my cover by shrieking "Oh they're pretty!" as I was Ebaying a pair of shoes earlier. A boss type was walking past and looked over. I felt like a fat schoolgirl caught stealing biscuits.

Being a receptionista at a TV company means talking to telly people who are mainly wankers. A gentleman caller came in at lunchtime when Kez was out getting the sandwiches and stood expectantly at the desk while I emailed off some forms to security- I know, what glamour! Being the professional I am I looked up and said hello and asked him who he was here to see. He told me and I replied that I'd be right with him as soon as I had typed this short email. He tutted, tapped his fingers and after what must have been three milliseconds of waiting said "God, could you type any slower?" I looked up, smiled from ear to ear and said "I'm sure I could, sir, would you like me to try?" This could have gone either way, but luckily for me, after he frowned for a few seconds he laughed, apologised for being a grump and said he'd wait in the seating area. I made sure he got fresh coffee as he waited for the fat bastard he'd come to see to come and get him.

It seems as if my arrival here has caused something of a stir among the various delivery men and couriers that come and go each day. This is quite usual wherever I go- not because I am stunningly beautiful but just because the receptionist I'm standing in for is usually so sick of their sexist remarks, pathetic jokes and chronic halitosis that she talks to them only in grunts and is generally a frosty bitch to them. A bit of new blood means that they can recycle their jokes and try a bit of friendly repartee with a woman who isn't their wife. I play the game for a while- it can break up the day and they're harmless enough really- but it does eventually get boring. Today we had a delivery for one of the researchers, whose surname is Mycock. Now, I realise that this is kinda funny in a puerile way for a second or two but surely once the joke has been made, that's all there is to be said. Not so with bearded pusball of a delivery guy, who stood and leered for what must have been 5 whole minutes chortling at the name, making references to his own deformed and- naturally- huge member and generally being a prick. Kerenza was in stitches the whole time so the guy thought he had a captive audience. Strangely, when the Mycock in question- 25 years old, 6' 6" and built like a rugby player- came down to collect his parcel, the delivery guy's face soon changed and suddenly the joke didn't seem very funny any more.