Marion
Ah, yes, dear Marion.

Marion was a tall, heavily-built German girl who occupied the cubicle next to mine. She had horn-rimmed glasses and a permanently serious look on her face, which collided badly with a comedy hairstyle- two cones of curly black hair which stuck mysteriously to the sides of her head (think Gary Larson, and then some). Not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, she kept herself to herself (apart from letting on that, rather enjoy the southern European summer here, she preferred to sit in a room with the windows closed and sweat. Nice.)

Marion would get locked into things, and would let parts of the day drift by in repetitive actions. You could walk by her desk on the way to send a fax (this was a while ago) and find her industriously polishing her glasses. You send the fax, wander off for a coffee and a smoke, and come back, and she would still be there, still polishing the same lens on her glasses. with the same vacant serious expression on her face.

Her only vice was tea. She would boil the kettle on her desk, and brew up a cup. From the other side of the partition, you could hear the tea bag drop into the bin, and then there would be an agonising wait as she put a spoonful of honey into the brew.

And then she would stir.

Metal spoon in an earthenware mug.

And get locked into stirring.

It was only a short while until the idea of timing this performance came up. The other cubicle rats were quickly irritated by the noise, but became less so as I would post the day's result. A silence would descend, everyone waiting to see how long she could last.

Metal spoon, earthenware mug, the varnish on the inside of the mug presumably getting thinner and thinner as time wore on.

Just before the office was reorganised, I was able to leap to my feet, fists in the air, screaming "RECORD!" as Marion at last woke up after a mammoth two minute, seven second stirring stint.

It wasn't to last. The office was redistributed, and Marion, after a peculiarly out-of-character screaming fight with a colleague (who she apparently tried to brain with a metal stapler) eventually moved back to the cool of her homeland.

To while away the long days at work, I sometimes like to think of her, contentedly stirring away, the ceramic on her mug worn to a paper-thin wall holding the cooling honeyed tea in...
(groover j lazerus, Thu 8 Jan 2009, 21:38, 2 replies)

Because geeks
will time anything. *click*
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Thu 8 Jan 2009, 22:58, closed)

We used to time John
when he went to the toilet. He told everyone he had IBS and was legendary in our office for managing to stay locked in the bathroom at the end of the office for more than fourty minutes.

That's how you deal with workplace boredom - feign IBS :)
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 9 Jan 2009, 10:05, closed)