Champagne reception and new bogs

A woman high up in the company I’m working for is standing on a blue removal crate making her even higher up. She’s delivering a welcome speech to the 200 or so of us gathered in the cavernous reception area of our swanky new offices. The scent of fresh paint mingles with the smell of warm bacon rolls and home baked muffins. There’s also a definite whiff of that first day at school feeling in the air. But unlike the first day at school we’re all holding glasses of champagne. The boss on the blue box is enthusing lyrically about the new offices, banging on about exciting times and new dawns and bright futures and blah blah blah. Her spiel is punctuated by the kind of zealous applause normally reserved for fanatical extremists and cutesy dog acts on Britain’s Got Talent. A collective tingle of excitement pulses through the room; we are one, we are united, we are a team…they might be, but at this precise moment I’m busy using the toe of my left shoe to nudge out of view a piece of bacon that dropped out of my bap and is now leaving grease all over the shiny new floor. In all honesty I’m not really following the speech. Whilst boss-lady describes at great length the architectural idiosyncrasies of the hi-tech meeting rooms, break out rooms and shower rooms my mind is on one thing and one thing only – the smallest room. All I want to know is where the toilets are and will they provide me with the necessary privacy I require? Suddenly I am jolted awake by the sound of 199 pairs of hands clapping. I play catch up and put my hands together, forgetting to take into account one of them is holding a glass of champagne. A splash of bubbly lands with a fizz on the lacquered floor and the crowd starts to disperse. Taking care to step over my mess I head off in search of the loos. And I’ll be reviewing them in my next post.