You can call me Al... or Peter... or Joe... or Andy...

Categories: uncategorized

Date: 09 November 2007 20:20:37

Our fire alarm went off this morning, which usually means that someone somewhere in our building has put their toaster on slightly too high a setting. As we all stood around outside, some of the ladies and I (I'm one of only two blokes in my bit of the office) were having a natter and a bit of a laugh, and then... one of my colleagues lost the plot for a moment and called me Chris. And then a few minutes later, another one somehow mistook me for her son and called me George. Yes, after two years working there, people still don't know my name... But it's OK, I answer to most things. When I first started doing youth work at my current church, a few of the lads decided to call me Dave to try and wind me up. When I just took no notice and answered to Dave, most of them got bored and stopped. But one of them carried on calling me Dave for about a year and a half. Maybe he couldn't remember my real name... I seem to have that effect.

There was also much comedy ensuing when someone else asked if anyone had seen some programme on TV last night, and someone else had said they'd missed it because they were watching "that programme about killer genes". Which was actually some programme looking at how certain people's genetic make-up is more susceptable to certain illnesses and diseases etc, but of course at least three of us heard it as "killer jeans" and had visions of pairs of jeans walking about on their own, unexpectedly producing flick-knives from their pockets and stabbing people in the leg. I was so tempted to start singing, "they were killer, jeeeee-eeeeans" to the tune of a well-known Queen song, but to the relief of everyone I managed to suppress that urge all day.

Talking of genes, I was talking to Orlando* from the office next door this afternoon, and he mentioned that he was turning 28 soon and would thus be "a grandad". When I pointed out that I'm already a year ahead of him, he was amazed. "I put you at about 23, 24!" he said. He's not the first one. I think partly it's because I avoid acting my age whenever possible, and partly because a lot of my friends are a few years younger than me, but I reckon it's also because all of our family look younger than we actually are. We just have youthful genes, I guess. One day, maybe, when I meet new people they won't say, "so are you studying at the uni then?" and I won't have to say, "no, I'm well past uni age, I'm actually 173 but this Oil of Olay stuff works wonders", and then explain the joke and watch as they don't laugh because jokes are never funny after you've explained them. OK, so that one's not very funny before explanation, but that's not the point.

*not his real name, but as he's currently featuring in a local ad campaign as an Orlando Bloom lookalike, we sometimes call him Orlando to wind him up a little.