Work is a many strange splendoured thing. My brain has spent the last week and a half bombarded with information and I keep a pleasant demeanour whenever I am at the Rather Large Bank’s headquarters. I feel very uncomfortable at my own pleasantness; the usual horrid sarcasms are eager to be let off the leash.

There are four grads in Risk, all of us are from interstate. Farm Boy is from the wheat and sheep belt of Western Australia. Gold Buttons is from the wine country of New South Wales. They’re probably both delightful young men, but I’m not too sure if they get me when I let the horrid sarcasm out at lunch breaks.

Of course, there is also the very fine looking young man from Brisbane. He is devastatingly handsome, outrageously tall and very well built like all heartbreakers. I think I am very likely to fall for the Heartbreaker and get my heart broken. I have a fondness for heartbreakers.

Every time I see the Heartbreaker at a distance, I quietly sing to myself the Streets song You’re Fit But You Know It before he is close enough to hear it:

I am not trying to pull you,
Even though I would like to.
I think you are really fit,
You’re fit, but my gosh,
Don’t you know just know it.

Of course, the Heartbreaker has a girlfriend. But nevertheless, he is one hell of a funny guy to talk to. We are very similar. Even down to the “fit but know it” mentality. We both strut around with a “hey baby, how you doin’?” smirk.

At lunch today, we were gossiping about people in senior management.

“Have you noticed that Certain Head of Department (CHD) has a wonky eye?” asked the Heartbreaker.

“Yes!! Yes!” I replied ecstatically. It was something I had wanted to say for about a week.

“Sometimes, I just don’t know if he’s asking me a question or the guy next to me.” I confided to the Heartbreaker.

“I think the trick is to focus on just one eye,” explained the Heartbreaker.

“Yes, but the challenge is to figure out which one is the good eye to focus on.” I said.