As I was making my way to the hotel bar this morning (Don't gasp. We've been over this before: they have the best internet, rocking lattes [spit-girl is not at work], and bonus cake. And I only start drinking in the afternoon... well after noon anyway), a man in a suit stopped me in the corridor:
(I swore to myself I wasn't going to do another dialogue, but I can't help it, I'm on a diaroll. And apparently superbly funny. Ha.)
Suit guy: Are you on your way to the bar? I always see you writing away on that computer of yours (he proceeds to air-type - always suspicious). Listen... (he takes something out of his jacket pocket) I want to give you my card. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to call me. Anytime (looks me in the eyes).
Me: Huh, Oh?!?! (cue eyebrows - this is my new, more polite, WTF?!?!). Well, thank you (I start moving away, quickly), I... will.
According to the card he is the Deputy General Manager of this here accommodation. But, boys and girls, the fun doesn't end there. A couple of hours on I have taken over one of the sofa groups (my bracelet demands its own chair) and there he is again, walking by:
Suit guy: There you are, typing again (air-typing - even more suspicious done a second time). I wish you would tell me what you are writing. A book?
Me: Hrhm? Ah? Huh? (Yup, I am just that quick) I'm supposed to... but I'm not (I was afraid he was going to ask to see it and I'm currently having too much fun with very crap sex-scenes).
Suit guy: Reports or something?
Me: Hrhm? Ah? Huh? (quick indeed) No, nothing like that, I'm just, you know.... (How do you tell people you can easily surf a whole day?)
Suit guy: (looking into my eyes) Well, maybe you'll tell me sometime.
I suddenly feel the need to pretend like something weird is happening on my screen and I have to peer into it and frown.
What's your take on this folks? Am I bored, making the whole thing up, completely insane, or in line to be the next missus Deputy general Manager? The hubby need not comment.
