Second Helpings

Firstly, an apology.
Something as out of the ordinary as a break-in at my office occurred and all I blogged about was the music I was listening to.
Self-obsessed crap of the crappiest order.
Sorry.

Tuesday morning I arrived to find my work area cordoned off because one window had been forced and the steel security lattice ripped open. The entrant or entrants had then leapt over my boss’ desk and taken a bizarre interest in all the cupboards on the top floor as the alarms went off.
Nothing was stolen.

A plain-clothes policeman arrived to take fingerprints, and he pulled off an entertaining double take when he realised, with his dusting brush poised, that everything was already covered with a fine layer of my boss’ snuff.
He left, we went back to work.

One phrase from all the conversations that day about the break-in stopped me when I was about to leave the office. Someone had said, “Maybe it was a recce.”
So, just to be on the safe side, I decided to take home everything of value that was actually mine. My big graphical calculator, my stereo, my custom pen…after a little more consideration I added my technical drawing kit and pencils. All that was left was my mug and my work shoes. I stood looking at them for a second or two, weighing it up.
I was obviously taking this far too seriously.

The next morning I arrived to find the whole office staff sitting outside in the sunshine looking rather glum. The intruders had been back, disabled the alarm, and helped themselves to whatever took their fancy from the whole building. Only one cupboard had been opened this time – the one that held the alarm system.

Thirty-odd sexy black Pentium 4 PCs, gone. Only their monitors and keyboards were left. An enormous, internet-linked flat screen TV, gone.

My own PC was one of the stolen ones, and I write on a colleagues meagre Pentium 3, a less racy beige colour…maybe less saleable?
I now have to write the report I’m working on longhand.

Oh well.

…but my mug and shoes were still here.
Phew!