For some obscure reason, our main office is based in a steel security box (plays havoc with cellphone reception). Now, as we had a t’interweb dialup connection in the days before broadband, we also have a second phone line.
One of my biggest pleasures during a dull day at work is to pick up this phone when it rings – 9 times out of 10 it’s a double glazing salesman or such like 
“Why yes, I’d LOVE you to come and measure me up (fnar, fnar) for double glazing/conservatory…”
My boss calls it evil – I call it fun.
Think I’ll grow a beard…
EDIT: Obligatory Scaryduck link
Corina and the fax machine
Our fax machine is dead. Not completely dead, so long as you only want to send a single page it’s fine – it just refuses to feed multiple pages through. This is the reason when on the odd occasion I’ve been asked to fax 2 or 3 (God help if there’s any more than that) pages to a customer, the level of swearing increases proportionately…
“Oh, you f*cking piece of sh*t…feed through you b*st*rd!” etc., etc.
Anyway, I digress (no change there).
So today Corina needed to fax through, wait for it, about 50 pages!
So there I was, huge grin on my face as the first page went through ok, and the second…third page created a jam (tears started rolling down my cheeks as I shook with barely contained mirth), resulting in the whole machine needing to be turned off and on again (the ultimate IT cure-all).
As I type this, Corina is, as I first suggested, putting the whole lot in the post…
Let me explain: The other day I’d burnt a CD for Corina (google ‘envelope fetish’) and, because she lives just round the corner form me, I decided to run it round rather than take it into work the next day. I knocked on the door and her husband answered it, I said “Hi, can you give this to Corina please?”, smiled and left – job done.
