The Clangers...

Although my official Job Title is 'Travelling Mouse', the 'travelling' bit doesn't just refer to the hopping on and off of planes, trans and roller skates.  What I mean is that I have t be flexible.  

I don't mean attending yoga classes three times a weeks.  I have the technology (when it works) to work from just about anywhere.

Of course this has it's advantages, especially during the recent hot weather, when I have worked many a morning from my garden with a pot of fresh coffee at my paw.  This does mean that I have to remember to press the 'mute' button when attending conference calls before someone asks where the bird noises are coming from.

At the moment however I have limited technology.  I usually access my e-mail and applications using a device that looks like a USB stick (or a kind of red cockroach with a metal bit at the end, for the non technically savvy among you) that plugs into my laptop and connects via smoke, mirrors and my portable wifi to the world of Cheese orders.  Last week I was in the middle of a conference call when a message flashed up on the screen: 'Connection Lost', and the fascinating presentation on Cheese Production I had been engaged in disappeared from my screen. A quick investigation (me looking at the USB port at the back of my laptop) revealed that the USB (metal bit) part was still firmly intact in the port. However the 'stick' (cockroach) bit was on the desk.  Two years worth of travelling and transporting of the device in various bags, suitcases and pockets had taken it's toll.  The device was broken beyond repair.

So, while I wait for a new device, which of course had to be ordered by a many stepped and laborious application and approval process, I am limited in my flexibility.  I can still do a perfect back bend but actually connecting to anything useful via my laptop is a distant memory, so I have to be creative.

This morning, for example, I had an appointment and a one hundred  and fifty nine page document detailing the various responsibilities of the Cheese Producers, the Wrapping and Packaging Suppliers, the Cheese Integrators and the Farmers themselves to review.  My appointment was far from the office and close to a well known coffee shop and, well, I hadn't had any breakfast, so I went in, ordered a strong coffee and a muffin (for brain power) and settled into a nice quiet corner seat to review the massive manuscript.

Thirty eight pages in (it is very complicated and I have to read it very slowly) and two gentlemen appear nearby.  They are speaking in a language that my mouse ears do not understand but they are carrying a very large box.  My whiskers twitch in uncomfortable anticipation.

The gentlemen go over to two large, comfortable looking chairs in the opposite corner and I breath a sigh of relief and return to the complexities of the Cheese outsourcing manual.  Two minutes later they reappear, carrying the two large chairs between them. I nearly fall off mine.  What are they doing?

The large box is opened.  It contains a hammer and a drill.  They proceed to tip the comfortable looking chairs upside down, drill out the bolts holding them together and hammer every metal part of them.  Hard. Two feet away from my sensitive mouse ears. Clang. Clang. Clang.  All the time they work, they jabber away in the strange language.  Well, flexible I may be, but there is a limit.  If I want constant noise, interruption and incomprehensible chit chat I can work from the office.  I glance at my plate - the muffin is a distant memory and the coffee now cold, so I pack up my documents and the office is exactly where I head.

My ears are still ringing.

Mouse xx