Twitterpated
The clock hands moved slowly. The employees sat at the back, as the presenter struggled to read out the powerpoint slides. “Errm, motivation, that is errm, motivation to fill your point, I mean fulfill your p, p, potential, depends on, oh, six factors, which are intrinsic, self acting, errm, self actual,” then there was a long pause.
The employees at the back made notes. Pat had noted down fifteen “errms” and was smirking as he was in the lead. Joe merely had seven “ohs” and was scowling, but Freda looked like she was going to lose because she had drawn the stuttering. Eileen refused to play and glared at them. “You’re being stupid” she hissed at Pat, “you twit”.
“Twit”, mimicked Joe quietly. The employees giggled, as the presenter struggled on. He was now up to slide 23 and the whole group could see that there were 54 slides in total.
Finishing the presentation might even go beyond five o’clock, and, as it was Friday, no-one wanted to stay any longer. “Twit, twit, twit” replied Pat.
“In the modern business, at the, err, fore, oh, front, of the cute, the cuting, the cutting edge of customer service, it is enough, I mean not enough, to err, to have positive, err, positive face, facial, expressions…” he droned on, struggling to read the screen, turning from his laptop to the screen, and trying to make out the words which evidently had been written by the latest MBA recruit to head office.
“Tweet” said Freda quietly, and then raised her head to smile at the presenter. He had just looked at the audience of a dozen employees for the first time in ten minutes, and he looked delighted that the elegant and attractive Freda had smiled at him. He lost his way, and looked at the screen again.
“Tweet twit” said Joe.
“The modern business, at the fore err front, of the cut edge, I mean cutting edge” he trailed off. “Err, oh, yes, I did that slide, let’s go on. He clicked his mouse to bring up slide 24 of 54. “An in err spiring customer interaction is, oh, charact, character by seven, err, elements, which …”
“Tweet, twit, twat,” said Mike suddenly, but a little louder.
“What, was that a question?”
“No, no” came replies, as the employee group felt they had been told off.
“Twit,” said Eileen, quietly to Mike, scowling at him, “shut up.”
“Tweet,” said Pat, mocking her.
“Tweet, twat,” said Freda under her breath, as she smiled again at the presenter, who had decided to look at her again.
“Twit, shit,” rhymed Pat. “I think I’m full of it.”
“Constipation presentation” answered Joe, at which even Eileen smiled.
“And factor number, err, six,” droned the presenter, “is inter, umm, intergrate, integrated knowledge sharing among, err, colleagues, which…”