Looking through old photos

I was tidying up some papers the other day and I found an old envelope from when I worked some years ago. It contained a number of photos of work colleagues. These were taken on one occasion and pinned to a big board with everyone's name and job title for a major exhibition we were having. After the exhibition was over, someone collected all the photos from the board and gave them to me in an envelope. It was obviously never thrown away.

Anyway, in that old envelope there was a photo of Gerald Nocknee. That was not his real name. His surname was rather longer but we called him Gerry Nocknee for short. Although to be fair, short he was not. He was very tall. So tall that he had to stand on a ladder to shave every morning. People said he had his head in the clouds. But that was not true. He was a solid man with his feet firmly planted in the ground. Very well educated in Cambridge and also a spell in Oxford, I believe.

Before he joined us he said he worked at a firm of undertakers called Doug M Deep. People were dying to meet him. He told us once that a friend of his was moving house so she came to see him at work and she asked him if he had any empty boxes.

He was a little weird Gerald Nocknee. He was fired from his job at the Funeral Directors because once during a funeral he approached old people and encouraged them to pay for their funeral now and get another one free. Apparently, he intended to dig them up and re-bury them again for free!

I'm not quite sure how true this story is; although he had a glint in his eye when he told it at a Christmas party.

He once said that marriages should have an annual appraisal every year. He suggested that at the wedding the couple should agree general "things" between them; like where they will live, if or when to have children, how they will be educated, (school/home-schooling), that sort of thing. Then every year the couple should re-visit their annual plan and discuss how they have lived towards achieving it and whether there were any "improvement opportunities" to make their marriage stronger. At this annual appraisal they would also plan ahead and discuss openly any difficulties that have arisen in their marriage.

I'm not sure whether this novel idea is good and will work or not. What do you think? 

This is a joke photo taken of another colleague. He was so short we called him Tim Legless. An unfortunate name because he was a teetotaller and never ever drank alcohol. In England, the expression to be legless means to be really really drunk. Something which Tim never ever was. 

He was indeed very very short. People often wondered whether he was actually small or far away. He was so short that his feet did not touch the ground. He just floated a few inches above ground. He was generally small all over. So small he was a waste of skin.

I remember once in a restaurant the waitress had to lift him up into a baby chair so he could reach the table with the rest of us.

At University he trained to be a brain surgeon, as you can see from his student days photo. But he was so short that his professor suggested he became a knee surgeon instead.

Apparently he was thrown out from a nudist camp because he could not keep his nose out of peoples' private business.

He had a favourite saying which he used at every occasion when he wanted to make a point.

"You've got to find yourself!" he used to say. Which is unfortunate since he went out for a walk one dark and rainy night and got lost. He was eventually found standing on top of a wedding cake. We never discovered who was standing beside him.

He told me once that he had a third nipple. Although, I hasten to add, I never asked to see it. How unfortunate, I thought, being so short and having a third nipple. I wondered where it was. Can a nipple be anywhere on the body?

Anyway, talking of a third nipple reminded me of something I had read when I studied ancient Greek and Roman history at school.

Did you know that the Roman goddess Artemis, (also known as Diana of Ephesus), was purported to have several breasts? This is because Diana was the goddess of fertility, and the multi-breasts were denoting fertility, nourishing the living.

Funny how the mind works. One thought leads to another.

I remember another Diana I once knew and was very fond of. The love of my life she was. Coincidentally, she too had several breasts. I kid you not.

She also won several awards at the dog show.

Looking through that old envelope I found another photo.

This young man was a computer programmer in those days when computers had floppy discs and you had to load the programs on them and wait a bit before starting work. Also, as I recall, in those days the internet was new and sometimes it slowed down and the picture froze until the whole thing arrived on your computer. I think they called it buffering.

The reason I mention this is because this young man, Jim, had a habit of buffering in real life. When you asked him something, like, "will the report you're working on be ready by tomorrow?"; he would hold on to his chin, wait for ten seconds or so, then answer. You may not think this is long, but ten seconds can be a long time. Try it. Ask yourself, "Do you want a coffee?"; now wait for ten seconds before answering. See? You could become just as annoying as Jim was.

Looking at his photo reminded me of an incident regarding Jim. He and I had to go from our HQ to a regional office some fifty miles away. We hired a car and loaded it with computer equipments and whatever else we needed. He decided to let me drive.

It was a long and winding country road with sharp bends, blind corners, narrow lanes with rising inclines or steep drops down hills. It was also raining at the time, as I recall.

I noticed throughout the journey which lasted just over an hour that Jim was very silent. I thought he was thinking about some computer program or other which he was writing.

When we arrived at our destination he jumped out of the car and slammed the door shouting, "I'll never get in a car with you again!" then he stormed into the building.

I heard from colleagues afterwards that he believed I could not drive and warned them never to get in a car with me.

Now this guy was a real know-it-all. He always knew everything about everything there is to know in the whole universe. There is nothing he did not know. Having a conversation with him, which I always avoided, was like having a conversation with an encyclopaedia. There was not a subject he knew nothing about. The problem was, you could not tell whether what he was saying was true or he was just making it up.

He also had another bad habit which annoyed me. I don't know why. He used to take his shoes off and walk in the office in his socks. His socks did not smell bad. It was just the fact that he took his shoes off that annoyed me. Perhaps I saw it as a sign of superiority on his part.

There were six of us sharing this large office, and others had commented to him about it. But not me. I was a professional coward at the time.

But one day I saw my opportunity. The other people had gone home. He walked to the cupboard at the far end to find a file. I approached his desk, hid his shoes in a nearby cupboard, and went home.

I never found out whether he went home bare-feet, or whether he spent hours looking for his shoes. But from that day on he never took his shoes off. He never mentioned the lost shoes either. I wonder if he suspected me or someone else.

I used to play tricks on him. In those days the telephones could be unscrewed at the ear-piece end and the microphone end where you speak. I used to unscrew the ear-piece on his phone and stick a piece of sellotape on the little holes from which the voice came. I then screwed the ear-piece back properly again.

I then went to my desk and rang him. I could see him at the end of the large office saying, "Hello ... I can't hear you ... speak up!" It was so funny, especially since the colleague next to me also knew what I had done.

I also used to use double-sided sticky tape and stick his ruler to the desk; and watch him try to pick it up. Or stick the telephone receiver to the whole phone apparatus and watch him answer the phone when it rang.

On another occasion I played another trick. You know all the small pieces of round paper you get when you empty the hole-punch? You use the hole-punch every day and small pieces of paper collect in the machine's reservoir.

Well, I emptied the contents of the machine in his umbrella which stood in the umbrella stand. That evening as he went home it started raining. He opened the umbrella and was showered in the street with paper confetti.

The next day he growled at us not knowing who did the evil act. We did not dare look at him in case we burst out laughing.

This young lady was our office secretary and general assistant. She had an office by herself next to the boss. For some reason, she often did not wear a bra. You could tell when she sat at her desk and you were standing up beside her pretending to ask some question or other about work. I always had a lot of questions to ask about work. She was very efficient. You could count on her. Up to two anyway.

This beautiful blonde was our company accountant. She was my age and I must admit I liked her ... a lot. I never had the courage to ask her out, however. As I mentioned before, at the time I was a professional coward. Just as well I never asked her out. I found out later that she was due to get married that very summer.

Her office, (she had her own office because of her position in the company), was across the corridor from our open-plan office where we all were.

One evening, about 5:30pm when everyone else had gone home, she rang my office and asked me to go to her office. But not tell anyone.

I was intrigued. I went to her office and found her standing on her swivel chair with the phone still in her hand. This was rather dangerous as she could have easily fallen and injured herself. Apparently she had seen a mouse in her room and quickly got off her chair, which was pushed away from her desk as she stood up, and then jumped on it.

What is it with you ladies jumping on furniture when you see a mouse?

Anyway, I took the phone from her and placed it back on the receiver on her desk. I tried to get her off the chair but she would not get down. She asked me to get her chair close to her desk so she could step on her desk. I could hardly do that in case she fell. But she commanded me.

I held on to her legs and slowly wheeled her to her desk upon which she stepped safely. She then asked me to empty her handbag which was on the floor in case the mouse got there. I emptied it at her feet on her desk. Amazing what women carry in their handbags!

Tell us what's in yours!

Eventually, convinced that the mouse was not in her bag, or in her room any more, she got off her desk and asked me not to tell anyone about this episode.

I never did - until now.

This young lady was my boss. I may have mentioned her before in my posts here. Here's a story about her.

When I was young a group of us from work were at a Conference in a City up North. After the evening meal, my boss, this pretty woman in her early thirties, went up to her hotel room and asked me discretely to follow her a few minutes later. She gave me a duplicate plastic card to use in that contraption which opens the hotel room door. She said she wanted to discuss my annual appraisal report.

A few minutes later I entered her room and it was empty. I said loudly "Hello ... anyone here?"

Her voice replied from the bathroom, "I'm in the shower. Come in!"

I was astounded and frightened at this request which sounded more like a command. My boss had a reputation but I never quite believed it. I did not know what to do, especially since my future career at this firm depended so much on my boss and her appraisal of me. I hesitated for a while.

"Get a move on," she cried impatiently from the bathroom, "I'm not going to wait all night!" Those were her exact words; I still remember them clearly. She obviously meant business and my annual appraisal was at stake.

I was totally confused. I sought guidance from my Catechism but I could not find an answer in a hurry. They really should have a better index in those books.

I took off my jacket and put it on the back of the chair. Then I took off my shoes. I had a big hole in one of my socks!

Before I could go on any further she came out of the bathroom fully clothed and speaking on her cell-phone. Apparently you get a better reception in the shower than anywhere else in her hotel room.

"Why have you taken your shoes off?" she asked.

"I did not want to dirty the carpet!" I replied unconvincingly.

I wonder if she believed me.