The Server Room
As I’m sure most of you do, I work in an office. Although recently promoted to an external role (car, laptop, phone, tenkyouveddymuch) I’m still in the office quite frequently, usually trawling through the latest QoTW posts all day when I am. I’m not in IT Support, nor have I ever been, nor do I intend to be. Our IT Support guys are pretty good, although the two guys do remind me of the Matthew Holness (AKA Garth Marenghi) character who briefly appeared in an episode of The Office, repairing Gareth’s PC (they also have a young assistant – a 22-year-old brunette with the perfect figure, lustrous hair, gorgeous deep blue eyes and breasts like street bollard tops, but I’ll save that for Thursday’s QoTW – Good Looking IT Personnel).

Anyroadup, this story goes back a few years (several) to when we were based in our old offices. Now, we as a company realised quite early on that in our line of work, it was simply not worth the hassle of opening between Christmas and New Year. All our customers shut down, and as we don’t deal with the general public, the phone hardly rings and as a consequence it becomes too expensive to open. Anyhoo, this particular year we’d decided to open up, albeit with skeleton staff and reduced working hours (10 till 4). I was manning the ‘sales desk’ on my own as we weren’t envisioning any volume of calls whatsoever. This meant that yours truly was destined to spend 6 hours on t’interweb when I should have been at home watching films and topping up lost alcohol levels, what with it being the season of goodwill and everything.

So, it transpired that, after 2 hours of doing c*ck-all, and managing to visit all the sites that I could think of and have an interest in, old Captain One-Eye began to commandeer my thought processes and suggested that I might wish to perhaps visit some *ahem* gentleman-friendly sites. So, a cursory glance around the office (I think there were six people including myself in) confirmed that three people were at their desks, engrossed in whatever it was they were doing, and a fourth, an Accounts woman, was filing. So, I began to gingerly finger an entry into the search engine and enjoy the transformation of my screen from a dour grey and blue to a plethoric explosion of cream and pink.

Unfortunately, half an hour of this was leading to some kind of explosion below the Equator so to speak, and thoughts began to race in my head as to what I could do about this. I was getting turned on as fuck and really needed to crack one off to put it mildly. There was no-one in the office who could see my screen, or notice my surreptitious excitement. So I made a democratic decision to take a trip to the conveniences and shake hands with the President.

The toilet was located downstairs (only one – it was a small office), but to my horror, it was engaged. Undeterred, and with my caber on the verge of being tossed, I espied the door to the server room ajar. I rushed inside and pulled the door ‘to’. I unleashed my, by now, quivering and pulsing gutstick and began polishing the Pope’s cap with rapidity, knowing that this would be a swift military operation. I managed maintain an air of quiet as I approached the Billy Mill roundabout, for fear of being caught, and at the point of no return, managed to extract a tissue from my pocket and caught my filthy yogurt. My heart beating in my ears and mouth, I swallowed each breath and managed to scrunch up the "remains of the day" and popped my, by now, fading glory back into its home, and began to make my way out when I heard a familiar voice say ‘Alright Sonora?’. Fuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuckshit; the one IT guy who had to be in today had been in the server room doing whatever IT guys do in the server room and caught me at it! I mumbled, ‘Er yeah, alright mate!’ in a passable impersonation of Emo Phillips crossed with Bobcat Goldthwaite and legged it out of there.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I managed to bump into our then Financial Director; this woman, who said ‘You OK, Sonora?’, on account of my flustered, crimson-cheeked appearance. I managed to blurt out, ‘YeahOKjustfinejustthoughtI’drunupthestairsandblowawaysomeofthoseChristmascobwebsahahahahaha!’ and ran back to my desk as I realised that I was still holding the evidence and that also I’d managed to drop some of my goo on my shoe thanks to my carelessness in ‘catching the impossible’ with the tissue.

I still work with the IT guy, and to this day he’s never mentioned anything to my face, although he smiles at me when he’s in the (new) server room in the new offices and I walk past. I’m sure he was probably at the same thing when I was and it’s only the ‘guy code’ that keeps him from revealing it. I think...
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Wed 30 Sep 2009, 15:59, 2 replies)

hooray
for DangerWank™
(Roopy all is not what it seams, Wed 30 Sep 2009, 18:16, closed)

to the tune of dangermouse...
It's the greatest,
It's fantastic,
Wherever there is danger you'll be there!
It's ace,
It's amazing,
It's the strongest, it's the quickest, it's the best!
Dangerwank,
Dangerwank,
Dangerwank!
(twiceydrinker hmmm is it pint time?, Thu 1 Oct 2009, 12:06, closed)