why i will not get a farewell

So S asked Y to buy her a pair of slippers from Bangkok.

Y bought the slippers and sent them back through Z.

Z walked up to me at work and said, “I got you your funky slippers from Bangkok.”

I was like, “What funky slippers?”

“The one’s Y bought for you. They are beautiful. Purple silk.”

Me, I got all teary eyed. Really Y was too sweet. Just because I’m leaving she got me purple silk slippers. And we’re not even best friends. So I sniffed and prepared my thank you speech.

The next day Z hands me the slippers. And they are fantastic. Purple silk with crazy gold lines. All kill bill.

I stare at them all day, and sigh. And think really, I must be so fantastic, and everyone must love me so much. Sure, they don’t always show it, and most of them think I’m a bitch, but now that I’m leaving, they must be sad.

In the evening, just before I leave for home, I dump my bag and the slippers on S’s desk, before popping in to the loo. (apologies to Sulabh Sauchalaya, my old friend)

I come out of the loo, to see S eyeing the slippers.

Just as I’m about to gush, she says, “Where did you get them from?”

“Bangkok. Y, the sweetest thing on earth bought them for me.”

“That’s strange. I gave Y money to buy me the same slippers. I even drew my foot size for her, and gave her a reference picture of the slippers.”

Silence.

I clutch the slippers. I’ve stared at them all day. Tried them on my feet all day. S is staring at me in shock. She’s been waiting for them for days.

Anyway, we both wail and cry for fifteen minutes, and then S finally lets me have the slippers because I’m leaving, and I use that as my trump card.

But, it doesn’t end there.

The next day Z is teary eyed. She’s discovered that she made a mistake; she was to give the slippers to S.

Y is fuming.
“Why did you give the slippers to that bitch? And who asked you to give the slippers before I got back from Bangkok. I bought them, I should have given them”

Z protests. Then she asks me to return the slippers.

I laugh, and flatly refuse.

Y sails in to her some more. Z is so upset. She cries on S’s shoulder. S and I laugh. Y stops talking to me. Z promises that she’ll get someone she knows to get the slippers for S. Y is not happy with the compromise. And stops talking to Z as well, who by the way has stopped talking to me. I laugh at them every time they pass, and wave my pretty slippered feet around.

Wow. How will I survive without the thrills of office life.


Back to the lousy computer in office. Today is Traveling Wilbury’s day. I’ve been playing Tweeter and the Monkey Man non stop, because I absolutely love the song. And since I can not for the life of me figure out how to put the music player thing on my blog, and I can’t find the song on youtube, I’ll just link you to End of the Line instead. Which is equally awesome. Also check out Dirty World and Last Night.
Happiness is not a cigar called hamlet, it’s a band called Traveling Wilbury’s.