Typical Day At The Office

Today everything about my shop was giving me the shits. I just didn't want to be there.

Still, it's quiet and I have to write a story about Earthdance. I do a lot of background reading and get started, and suddenly my story about Earthdance has talking whales in it. This amuses me a lot. I start to wonder if the new editor will let me get away with as much as the old editor did.

A good friend who won't let me call her by her name logs on and we have an extensive discussion about minions and how cool it would be to have them. I decide that minions will be the topic of my next Grumpy column.

But then I start to wonder if maybe something to do with my involvement with APEC might have better comic potential than minions. Did I mention my involvement with APEC? I'm going to be working as one of the chefs at the Sydney Opera House where the Asia Pacific Economic Community conference is being held - a building that may as well have a big bullseye on the side. Fucking hell, they really chose a hard to pick target, didn't they.

Anyway, if my background is cleared by ASIO and the CIA and whoever else is doing the security checks, I'll be part of the team feeding the likes of George Bush and his Australian girlfriend John Howard. Regular readers will find this amusing because you know how qualified I am. And if you're an ASIO or CIA first time reader, I hope you find the Australian girlfriend line as amusing as it's meant to be.

The Earthdance story is going well, but I am interrupted by a promoter/DJ friend who comes into the shop to pick up ticket sales. In the course of the conversation he wonders if it was a bad thing to have a joint before having his massage. His face is all mooshy from putting it in that doughnut pillow thing but he is as hyperactive as always, and a bit grumpy that he is not doing the closing set on the psytrance stage at Earthdance like he usually does.

He leaves. I go back to the talking whales. I have a feeling I won't be able to make it to the theatre so I email the relevant person to change my tickets to Saturday night.

Lucky because a guy comes into the shop around about the time I decide to close up and leave. He stays. And Stays. And stays. By this time I really am not happy. It's been an okay day sales-wise, but I just want to not be there.

Then the guy starts to buy stuff. And more stuff. And, like, a ridiculous amount of stuff. We start talking. He is going to Burning Man. I mention Soulclipse, the eclipse festival I went to in Turkey last year. He was there. We chat. We get along okay. I ask what he does for work because he has an American accent. He tells me he is with the CIA.

That last bit was a joke. The Customer From Heaven is with a company called something like Giggle? Gaggle? Google! It's Google, and he is setting up a Sydney office. I think Google people must have nice pay packets.

So anyway, long and short of it, what with minions and talking whales and stoned promoters and Men From Google, I had a total mood swing. I loved the shop again.