I had a video conference today. This is where some colleagues up in Scotland have a TV screen that they can see us lot down in London on - and vice versa. A regular patron of audio conferences (via telephone), this was my first video conference.
The Laura-curse of being early meant that I was in the room well before anyone else had arrived. A large TV wall greeted me, though it was blank, like a switched off telly.
I shuffled some papers. I tucked my hair behind my ears. Ploggers, I may have picked my nose.
Suddenly God spoke. "Laura Nunn?"
The TV was still blank, but someone had spoken to me. I am ashamed to admit that I checked all four corners of the 3 metres square room for God. Who was female. And apparently didn't approve of nose-pickers.
"Laura Nunn?" repeated the voice.
"Yes?" I said to God.
"Laura, it's Kate. Can you see me? I can see you!"
I pressed a button, and suddenly, Nice Kate (friend and colleague) sprang into view before me, beamed directly from Edinburgh. I got a bit over-excited and waved.
I don't know whether or not I was picking my nose. I hope not, though it's probably the sort of thing I would do.
I was telling Mrs Nunn about it later. She laughed a lot, paused, then added sagely, "It's a good job you weren't scratching your twat."
Thank you, Mrs Nunn.
1 comment:
I once observed a colleague attempt to configure a video conference and, unable to do so, shout "Super Anal Fist Fuck!" at it in a rather broad Glaswegian accent. Needless to say, it was actually working at the other end.
You know this to be true, because if it were a joke it would be too obvious a punchline.
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