Portia MacIntosh - Drive Me Crazy

‘Cool,’ I reply, only managing to fake enough sincerity to make me sound super sarcastic. ‘I won’t keep you long, I just need you all to sign Charlie’s leaving card before the party this afternoon. You guys are the last ones.’

The new guy is staring at me and smiling. It’s a friendly smile, but I still feel awkward about yesterday, just in case he could hear Will and me.

‘Roger that,’ Garth replies, taking the card from me. ‘I’ll pass this around if you do me a favour – have a play around on this.’ He plonks a silver MacBook on the desk in front of me. ‘We’ve had some complaints that the UI is affecting the UX.’

With that, Garth leaves me to it. I stare at the screen in front of me and scrunch up my face as I try and work out what the fuck that could possibly mean. I look left then right, like the answers might be on the walls amongst all the design plans, code and posters for things I am too ‘cool’ to get. As I look right I see the new guy still smiling at me. He pushes off the desk next to him, which sends him flying across the room to me on his desk chair. That’s the kind of thing that, if I did it, would see me crashing through a third-storey window, but Geordie Shore makes it seem cool and effortless.

‘That’s just his pretentious way of saying that people think how it looks affects how it works,’ he explains to me, and put like that it sounds simple.

‘Oh,’ I reply. ‘Thank you. Well, yeah, the yellow is too much.’

‘Ever since I got here, I have been telling them to go easy on the yellow crap,’ he tells me, relieved at least one other person shares his views. ‘I keep telling them that clean and minimalistic is on-trend right now, but they’re pushing the stars. We get it, the company is called Starr, but enough of the pretty little yellow things with five points – that’s not what a star looks like. A star is a big ball of exploding gas. They’re orange or, if they’re really hot, they’re blue. Although I suppose a big ball of exploding gas might not be the best option for branding considering our guys drive around in trucks all day.’ He laughs.

I chuckle. ‘I guess not.’

There’s silence for a few seconds before Garth hands the card to new guy to sign.

‘What did you think?’ he asks me.

‘Mate, she said same as me – too much yellow,’ new guy answers on my behalf.

‘Candice has been here long enough to know that this company and yellow go together like Jaime and Cersei Lannister.’ Garth laughs, taking his laptop and returning to his desk.

‘Yeah.’ I laugh, before turning to the new guy and staring blankly. He looks up from signing Charlie’s card and sees my puzzled, expectant look.

‘Oh, so I’m your dork translator now, am I?’ He laughs.

‘Something like that,’ I reply sweetly.

‘They’re characters from Game of Thrones ,’ he informs me.

‘Oh, I see. I’m guessing they’ve been married a long time then,’ I reason.

‘Not quite,’ he replies. ‘So, will I be seeing you at Charlie’s leaving party?’

‘Maybe,’ I reply. I always seem to clam up a little when we start getting on, an involuntary reaction, I think, probably because I worry what Will would think if he saw us together.

‘Maybe?’ he gasps. ‘Candy, it’s Charlie’s leaving do; you can’t swerve it!’

‘First of all, my name is Candice ,’ I correct him, as always. ‘Second of all, you’ve been here five minutes; you don’t even know Charlie.’

‘How dare you,’ he gasps dramatically again. ‘Charlie is one of the nicest blokes you could hope to meet. He’s been great with me while I’ve been here – even if it’s only been five minutes.’

I purse my lips and nod my head. It was a nice try, but I’m not buying it. ‘Charlie is one of the ladies who works in the canteen.’ I laugh.

‘Oh,’ he replies. ‘Oh! It might seem weird that I wrote “good luck, pal” in the card.’

‘Yeah, you might want to change that.’

‘Well you said we were the last, so I sealed the card.’ He laughs as he scratches his head. As I watched him sign his name, it had occurred to me to maybe have a peep, to see what his name was. I didn’t really listen when he introduced himself, and no one ever seems to say his name. It seems rude to ask him now and I don’t want to make myself look like a bitch.

I hate to stereotype, but everyone in the IT department looks exactly as you would expect an IT department employee to look – not the new guy, though.

I’m not sure if I have a type, but I don’t think the new guy is it. Well, he’s nothing like Will, that’s for sure. That said, Geordie Shore is a very attractive man. I doubt he has any trouble getting girls, which is what makes me wonder why he tries so hard with me. I’d guess he’s about my age, he’s tall and thin. Not skinny though – he’s very well toned and it shows underneath the fitted V-neck T-shirt he’s wearing. God, I hate that I’m looking. He has tanned skin, big, deep brown eyes and brown hair, making him fit the tall, dark and handsome bill that most go for. He’s got one of those short, neat beards – not the dirty, overgrown hipster type, but the kind that’s almost just like long stubble, and his longish dark hair is twisted up into one of those topknot things that are so popular at the moment. It fascinates me how young men have embraced what is essentially a ballerina bun for boys, giving it its own name in an attempt to make it cool and manly. He wears thick-rimmed, black glasses, which only add to his cool look. He doesn’t look like an IT nerd; he looks like a Topman model.

The most striking thing about him isn’t even the way he looks, but the way he carries himself. He’s that guy all the warm-blooded females in the office have a crush on, the kind who flirts with everyone because he can. He doesn’t come across as smarmy though, not with those baby-faced dimples. He’s got the kind of face that could get away with murder.

‘So, which one is Charlie?’ he asks, snapping me from my thoughts and dragging my gaze from his muscular arms back up to his eyes.

‘Erm…blonde, curly hair. Early forties. Short,’ I babble, struggling to describe her without using her obvious identifier.

‘Oh, I know, the one with the big – ’

‘Heart,’ I interrupt him, to save him from having to state the (awkward) obvious. The thing with Charlie is that she wears these distractingly low V-neck tops that really accentuate her chest. And when I say they’re low, I mean they’re low . Even I can’t help but stare. It’s like her neckline is an arrow pointing down towards her cleavage, sucking you in like the Bermuda triangle.

‘Yes,’ he replies with a thoughtful nod. ‘Heart.’ The new guy thinks for a second before adding: ‘That must by why her tops are so tight, if her heart is so big.’

I laugh, shaking my head. ‘Well, I’d better get back to work,’ I tell him. It’s strange, but I kind of don’t want to go. Perhaps it’s because there’s such a nice atmosphere in here, even if I don’t know what anyone is talking about most of the time.

‘Well, I’ll see you at Charlie’s leaving do then,’ he tells me. ‘I imagine her boobs are already halfway out the door.’

I can’t help but leave the IT department with a big smile on my face, grinning to myself all the way back through the banana. For once, I’m actually looking forward to a work thing.

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