Ahhh! The fresh, factory-metallic smell of a new phone inn the morning. It's light and cute; resting there innocently in the palm of your hand. If phones could smile, this little baby would. You think back fondly to the caveman days of car phones more suited to a gorilla head and breathe an audible sigh of relief. Overcome with gratitude for your life-changing little darling, you softly whisper "I love you...YOU complete ME". The rest of the sales team gathered around the conference table lower their heads. Partly due to respect for the intimate, sometimes truamatic relationship between man and machine. In part, they are also remembering the start of their own love affairs.
Gently, Sally (as we will refer to her to preserve piracy,...uh I mean privacy). was settled into the rich leather depths of her recliner. With one last smitten look, you head for the coffee station for your morning jump start. Someone had perked an especially dark blend this morning, possibly to start the week off right. Stifling the urge to check the seat of your pants for Juan's donkey hoof prints, you find your way back to your seat. Tremulously, you pull your chair in and set your Java Joe on the table. Right next to Sally.
It's difficult to say when the jealousy began. Could it be that last week's impressive sales were credited to working late nights at the office with Joe? Or was it because Sally was convinced and confident of her well kept calendar. Her efficiency that keeps you from revealing your blossoming inner dementia? If only Phil in Accounting hadn't barged into the room just then, you probably wouldn't have been so startled. Your arm might not have swept so quickly across the table to turn around. Sally might not have been snoozing in defiance and as a direct snub to Joe. Sally might have been awake to alert you and the Monday Morning Massacre never would have happened.
As soon as Joe saw your arm flying closer, his java bean, has-been life flashed before his mug. Quieter days on the mountainside with birds and butterflies dancing the merengue on the sweet summer breezes. Now it was all over. Unless, just maybe he could manouver his handle and land right in the cushy safety of Sally's recliner. In a moment's time, coffee was slopping across the table: across briefs and debriefs. Under the table to even more briefs. Grown men with dollar signs and a protective instinct that would make a mountain bear blush with shame, heaved their Armani and their best Klein into action on the table to protect their Sally's, Nora's and Lolita's. The Brooks Brothers even made a respectable showing, along with the high flying tartan battleflag of The MacLoom tribe.
After the carnage was over, the suits retreated to their private offices wondering how they were going to get up enough courage to ask their wives for a replacement lady in their lives. Poor little Samsung Sally, Nokia Nora and even little flip phone Lolita. This would not be the time to bring up the sleek, the beautiful, the new Wonderwoman of the office - the IPad. Definitely not.
Gently, Sally (as we will refer to her to preserve piracy,...uh I mean privacy). was settled into the rich leather depths of her recliner. With one last smitten look, you head for the coffee station for your morning jump start. Someone had perked an especially dark blend this morning, possibly to start the week off right. Stifling the urge to check the seat of your pants for Juan's donkey hoof prints, you find your way back to your seat. Tremulously, you pull your chair in and set your Java Joe on the table. Right next to Sally.
It's difficult to say when the jealousy began. Could it be that last week's impressive sales were credited to working late nights at the office with Joe? Or was it because Sally was convinced and confident of her well kept calendar. Her efficiency that keeps you from revealing your blossoming inner dementia? If only Phil in Accounting hadn't barged into the room just then, you probably wouldn't have been so startled. Your arm might not have swept so quickly across the table to turn around. Sally might not have been snoozing in defiance and as a direct snub to Joe. Sally might have been awake to alert you and the Monday Morning Massacre never would have happened.
As soon as Joe saw your arm flying closer, his java bean, has-been life flashed before his mug. Quieter days on the mountainside with birds and butterflies dancing the merengue on the sweet summer breezes. Now it was all over. Unless, just maybe he could manouver his handle and land right in the cushy safety of Sally's recliner. In a moment's time, coffee was slopping across the table: across briefs and debriefs. Under the table to even more briefs. Grown men with dollar signs and a protective instinct that would make a mountain bear blush with shame, heaved their Armani and their best Klein into action on the table to protect their Sally's, Nora's and Lolita's. The Brooks Brothers even made a respectable showing, along with the high flying tartan battleflag of The MacLoom tribe.
After the carnage was over, the suits retreated to their private offices wondering how they were going to get up enough courage to ask their wives for a replacement lady in their lives. Poor little Samsung Sally, Nokia Nora and even little flip phone Lolita. This would not be the time to bring up the sleek, the beautiful, the new Wonderwoman of the office - the IPad. Definitely not.
