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I was sitting in an airless, under-lit room near Winchester, trying to appease the client’s concerns. Things had gone wrong, it was true, and I was here to fix them. I had fixed them too, all but one minor glitch, and I was feeling victorious, elated and downright upbeat. I wanted to bray from the rooftops, tell them how everything would be alright. “I am Chief Fixer, and I can fix anything.” I would happily have exclaimed. Things, in short, were going well.
That is, until Michelle sent me a text message. I have recently taking delivery of an absolutely stonking phone, a Nokia 6680. For reasons I’ve detailed before, this has been a much-awaited phone and by lummy it’s a corker. As soon as it arrived a week last Thursday, I loaded its software onto my computer and started checking out the themes, wallpapers and sounds I could use to personalise it. Sound themes ranged from “animals” to “city sounds” to “funny” to “sexy”. The phone has a random sound selection function, so I ticked a few boxes, downloaded them and let it do its thing.
Anyway, back to the meeting. It was tense, but I had the upper hand. Suddenly, my pocket started vibrating. A sudden thought scampered through my brain, and I fumbled as fast as I could to locate the phone and stop the noise. But I fumbled in vain. The stale, highly-tensed air of the room was penetrated by a sound that the phone had kindly selected from the “sexy” theme. The unmistakable sound of a series of highly-excited female moans filled the room as I made more desperate attempts to fish for the phone. The female clients in the room looked on in astonishment at my flailing antics, clearly not amused. My trousers had become as user-friendly as shrink-wrap, and I reached the phone after the sound had finished. “Terribly sorry,” I muttered, struggling to justify the noise. “It’s a new phone, random noise thing, sorry, ummm.. yes. Sorry.” I could feel my face turning very warm as I realised my higher ground was compromised. For the rest of the meeting, I tried to carry on as if nothing had happened and rushed out of the room the moment the meeting finished.
I’m due to meet them again next week for a repeat performance – although I’m not sure I can top that marmalade-dropping moment…