Noreen and Betty are dead fed up. There's no orders going out and nothing coming in. There's no money about so we can't buy any books. There's stuff they could be getting on with but they're not sure if they should be doing it or whether it would be worth the effort anyway as nobody would give a monkeys. Noreen is the latest in an increasingly long line of people to say a variation on the old theme:
"I could just come in, sit around doing nothing then go home again and so long as I clocked in and clocked out at the right time nobody would care too hoots."
I had nothing useful to say to contradict this: I've come to the conclusion that I've spent the past two decades inventing pieces of work for myself to do in the futile (and ultimately failed) attempt to stop myself going mad with boredom.
We get a bit more bad news about a lot of confusion and indecision from Policy Group (they've decided to be confused but they're not sure if that's what they're doing).
"Every time I think we've reached the bottom we find a whole new pit to fall down," I complain. "My trouble is that I'm far too optimistic for this job."
"That's the good thing about working with you," Noreen replies, "you're always good for a laugh."