The Raelene

Steve is currently being amused by a new colleague who, like the Drake, talks about herself in the third person.

I don't quite believe him. But then again, he can't be making this stuff up when he comes home each night and tells me the latest.

The other day, for instance, she was late coming back from lunch. Then he gets a phone call. It was Raelene. "Raelene's car has been hit in the carpark during lunch hour", she informed him. Just like that.

I just find this totally intriguing. And hilarious, I confess. Part of me really wants to meet the Raelene just to hear it for myself.

Mind you, Steve's worked with his fair share of doozies. So have I. We actually also worked together for about four years, back in the day. And there was this one girl - let's call her Brenda - who was being trialled by me for a front desk role. I left her there to answer the (very quiet, granted) phones and went to sit with my boss to go over some work stuff. Next thing, we see her traipsing past his door (his was the closest to the front door of the building) and he calls out, "Where are you going?" Without even slowing her pace, she calls out, "I can hear the ice cream van!"

We looked at each other, incredulous, mouths agape, before bursting into guffaws. Let's just say, the fact that she wasn't really a dainty petal (much like yours truly) helped to round out the comical picture of our trial receptionist as she tottered to the gelati van and his mesmerising strains of Greensleaves.