The Meeting Race

“Take your mark”


Crouched in my cubicle, I sit poised and set, ready for the start of the weekly adventure that is…..The Meeting Race.

It’s the usual route. A hundred metre steeplechase from my desk to conference room five…an obstacle course of photocopiers, water coolers and the annoying detritus that is the HarrisCorp workforce (who seem to have nothing to do except get in my way)

My sleeves rolled up, tie over the shoulder, I watch the clock on the wall as it ticks over...9:59.58 Secs, 9:59.59 secs

10.00. And they're off. I jump out of my seat and slip gracefully into "the shuffle", my trademark gait that allows me to speed through the office without appearing to care. But my eyes are wary; surveying the competition that I know exists.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a natural predator....Jane from accounts. She is taking the early lead, gracefully loping through the corridor like the long limbed gazelle she is. Can I get her? Oh! She has fallen victim to the good looking guy in cubicle two who asks her about last night's drinks. The gazelle has fallen to the crocodile, I smirk. I guess I will owe him a drink!

But a new challenge looms as a shadow appears from the left. John from Marketing is the real threat and he shows why he is the top seed in the category. Tall and strong, he maneuvers around the fauna who bow in his wake. Doesn't look good for me...but wait. The CEO is on a collision course with him. Yes! John is a corporate climber and can't help but stop and talk divots with the golf loving head honcho. Ha Ha!

So it is “Gold, Gold, Gold, Australia” as my chest bursts the imaginary tape of the meeting room doorway. My prize awaits.

The chair! The only chair in the entire office that doesn't squeak, cause a spinal injury or threaten to collapse under me. Ensconced on my throne, I do a victory swivel as the defeated trudge in, their expressions neutral (but eyes conveying their jealous rage)

My eyes convey their own message. Next time, losers. Next time.