Picture this, 8 people sitting in a room, having brainstorms. Everyone's got this motley group of dark clouds over their heads, they're hunched over, heads wet from the rain, some dry for lack of creativity. Their eyes knotted in a stitch over the possibility of implementing something crazy. Everyone's staring out the window or looking at a patch on the wall. Lightening strikes the bald thinkers, shiny pates have the tendency to attract them bolts in this office and then it bounces off other people's foreheads.
The rain is slipping down people shirts and skirts, forming pools at the feet of the ergonomic chairs, girl with a curl starting drawing water circles with her feet, distracted, not completely here, but wet with ideas of her own.
It's a beautiful and yellow outside, everything is marvelous, people have things to do for the weekend. Ours doesn't start until tomorrow. Sometimes, things like this tend to happen. Now i have the Sunday blues. Monday is closer to the weekend ironically.
Boistrous bitch twirls her favourite candy wrapper into a twisty butterfly, completely pissed off with the ideas, which = hers are always better. In her own head the storm is turning volcanic. The top of her head is giving off a bit of steam. And i can detect the palest tinge of red - orange. It's only a matter of a few minutes, we're gonna have to run for cover.
earthy/sexy 'paki' girl, is having her storm of calm. She has a small smile and a picture of 'her little lady'in her lap. When you've got something that cute staring up at ya, it's hard not to have a smile on your face. She's got a pleasant drizzle happening. Some of her ideas are very flower power like. But they work, these are the ideas that sustain you to the next big bang. Money talks for her, cause most of them are her clients.
The white chicks are animated as usual. Constantly blowing things into the air, making bubbles from the soap that's forthing with the rain. They never run out soap. Bleached bone ideas, but they make sure the weekend frees up for their regular trots and discovery. It's all about the weekends and a probable raise.
I'm completely soaked. Got my ideas running rivulets through the office. By nwo i would have had a standing ovation for the launch, and somehow, a sense of peace really calms me to the point where i know that jumping the gun isn't the way into this league. There is a even a good possibility that i don't want in. I like the coversations i'm able to have with these guys, the coffee the lunch and the work i'm responsible for. I like what i'm being able to achieve, at my pace. I mean what is the rush for? Somehow, getting stuff done in relation to be being able to reach out is suddenly so important. Hmmmm.
So i do the right thing like stone cold sleepy mama and come in during the pregnant pauses, something like the thunder. It kind of makes everyone sit up and nod, and agree and then they add that to the list and then it's cacaphony for the next 15 minutes. Some more of boisterous bitch, some mroe stone cold sleepy mama, some more of lightening pates (they could have a basketball team!) and we're all good to go.
Until psyched out decides to speak up - in her silky, near whisper voice. She's got that look in her eye again. Saudi beckons to the South african. She's dry.
Post lunch sessions can be really warped.