Falling at the First Fence

I've been galumphing around that sodding racetrack all week, trying to align myself more authentically with Stepford Employee as far as my co-workers and employers are concerned. And I haven't done too badly. But I haven't done too well either...

 At the start of the week, a fairly minor hurdle presents itself. Ex-Army Man emails me with some questions about our office move and at the end of my reply, I compliment him upon having achieved this so efficiently. (I mean handsome is as handsome does, fair play, and credit where credit is due etc etc). This is all part of my new resolve to look for the best in people.

Ex-Army Man responds according to his own script, not mine, seizing advantage of my opener to send me an account of his brilliance. I send back the email equivalent of "mmmmm".

Increasing my horse's speed, I surmount a couple of email barriers from Line Manager and Personnel with comparative ease, and settle into a moderate canter. All is going well, when I open an email from Spiteful Manager advising all and sundry that Remora has made some cakes and that they are under his guardianship in Whispering Corner.

Ah! Remora.

Thereby hangs a tale far too long, dark and ugly to recount without a week's supply of Valium and a therapist on speed dial. (Needless to say, I realised a long time ago that Remora is almost certainly certifiably mad...)

Which is why, when I read Spiteful Manager's final sentence, I am very thankful that I happen to read it while alone in my own office, at a safe distance from my fellow co-workers.

"Remora has asked me to point out" he says (and let us not enquire why she is using a go-between to communicate this vital message....) "Remora has asked me to point out that you must not eat her cakes if you are allergic to nuts".

"I am!" I sob between convulsive whoops of laughter. " I am very much allergic to nuts. Particularly nuts called Remora". 

At this point, my trusty steed falters as it approaches the water jump. Inevitably I fall off and find myself waist deep in a great big puddle of Remorse.

Deary me.
Must Try Harder.