Dunce

Ultimately, you have to choose whether to be on the dancefloor or the balcony...

Halcón Rey finished his sentence and looked down at his small audience from the ridiculously raised podium he was on.

Any questions?

He said with that confident air that the rich have, that there will be no questions.

I have a question.

I said from my seat way below the cloudy mountain-top from which Halcón Rey stood.

The room fell silent. We were at a productivity booster workshop. Again.

This one was being hosted by three of the company top-guns.

One of them, Halcón Rey, had just finished a big impassioned speech about dancers on a dance floor and people watching from the balcony and other mad shit.

He was getting so into it I half expected to see him sport a chubby as he stepped away from the lectern.

I recognised one of the other top gun's, Queso Grande. The last was a stranger, he looked like one of the long dead.

Halcón Rey peered down irritably from the lectern. I shuffled slightly, as if sitting on pine cones.

Go on?

Said Halcón Rey.

Well, the thing is, we have all been sent on an awful lot of productivity and morale-boosting workshops recently. In fact, they happen almost weekly and everybody has been complaining that, if anything, they take us away from being able to do any real work.

I thought I heard some gasps from behind me.

Halcón Rey Looked at the long dead behind him and then, seemingly bewildered, he looked back out at the crowd below.

It's about working smarter? It's about being... lean.

He slowly stated, he sounded unsure, as if he had done a big shit but the toilet bowl was empty.

I made to answer but someone else interrupted and the moment was gone.

What followed was a queue of chuff- munchers and career types praising the workshops and gushing like broken drains over what we had been told.

Quite suddenly, it was lunchtime. I happily filed out with the others. Once we were outside I fully expected my fellow workers to hoist me up on their shoulders for being a hero and telling the management exactly what we were all thinking.

One of my colleagues, BinJuice approached. I readied myself to receive his adulation. I hoped the congratulatory back slaps didn't hurt too much. Perhaps he would offer to buy me many beers in the pub later? I had better get on to the good lady and tell her I might be a little late tonight.

Boomdawg. You are a dick, shut up and don't tell them that shit. Nod your head and do as your told. It's better for all of us. Fuck sake.

BinJuice stomped away again.

Ah, not quite the being carried around the room on the shoulders of my brothers in arms I was expecting.

Oh well, at least it's Friday!