Game, set, match

For some reason I've ended up as a social function organiser. Three times now I've launched and successfully moderated gatherings in my workplace. They've been fun - annoying with putting in effort and so forth - but fun nonetheless.

At the last one I'd bought a block of Coles Tasty Cheese. It didn't get opened. So I emailed da work on the group email to inform them we had one (1) block of communal cheese that people could slice into if they needed - since, after-all, social club funds had been used to purchase it.

People did not take me up on the offer. But while that didn't happen - now people knew there was one (1) cheese in the fridge that was communal in nature.

Then, yesterday, a reminder email went out. 'Hey lads, we're on again for pay day Friday arvos. I'll even bring out the cheese.'

Again, the spectre of cheese had reared itself in the minds of the gathering.

Finally, it was time. Time to launch the joke to which I'd set up with husbanding a cheese, then telling people about said cheese. It was less than 10 minutes to go until the agreed kick off and I needed to set up.

So I stood up, surveyed the work station surrounds. Looked at my colleagues, heads down, bottoms up as they beavered on behalf of the public in their activities.

'Right then,' I said loudly. Loud enough to carry my voice over two cubicle farms in either direction.

'I'm off to cut the cheese.'

I rule intensive care.