The Stand Up

He stands for the stand-up. Good idea, getting one of the desks you can raise. It means not sitting on his arse all day. A good thing when middle-aged spread is a reality.

Andy logs onto the meeting. Three others join. There are floating heads in his web browser. He says good morning like there are good things about the morning. Even though his knees are aching. And that bag of grit in each eye can sod off. Sleep last night was the usual combination of nightmares and twitching himself awake.

—Where’s Kev?

He checks the Bamboo schedule in case he missed Kev being on annual leave. Kev is not listed, so the group waits.

—Frank? That a new hat?

—Ah, yeah, I got this one on holiday in Sarajevo.

—Nice. Anyone else been there?

Shaking heads. Still no Kev. More small talk. Frank talks about his growing wooly hat collection.

—Have yer all installed the latest update for Antigravity?

Nodding. Nodding all round.

—Good, yeah?

—More agentic improvements, says Steve.

—Cool, should be useful, then, yeah?

—Reckon so.

He messages Kev. Trying not to sound passive-aggressive.

Morning, mate, are you joining?

No answer. They’ll wait, no, fuck it, they’ll make a start. Kev can catch up.

—Right, what yer got, Mike?

Mike talks. It might as well be Double Dutch. What the hell is he talking about? Ah yeah, that bit sort of makes sense. Andy feels a storm of guilt. He should know what they are discussing. He doesn’t.

Kev joins, looking flustered.

—Me router decided to update itself, he says.

—Alright, mate, yer here now.

Good, a full crew.

—What have you got, Frank?

—I gotta finish that ticket from yesterday. I’m blocked. I could do with Mike’s help.

—No worries. You alright with that, Mike?

Mike nods. He knows he’ll have to be. Whether it’s alright or not.

—What’s on your plate, Steve?

Steve talks. More fucking confusion. More guilt for not knowing. And for not caring. He needs to know they are okay. And able to work. After that? Nah, doesn’t matter.

—Kev?

Yep. He knows what’s coming. A double dose of Double Dutch. Kev is working a project invented by Martians and coded by robots. Yeah, that’s what it’s like. Andy sighs, inwards. Hoping it doesn’t show.

He’d go back to the old way. Three questions. What yer worked on, what yer moving to, and is there anything blocking yer. Simple. Clean. No Sarajevo hats involved.

It is great because it makes the meetings short. He can get out and finally stop worrying about what they think of him.

—Andy? Can I have a word after? says Kev.

—Sure, mate.

He fills ’em in on a few admin bits. Time tracking, new graft and general company news. Everyone knows what they are doing. They all look happy enough. Fine. He can end the meeting.

Return of the J-Cloth

What?

The thought flashes across his mind. Another mad Star Wars reference. Dropped off by a Phantom called Dennis. Must have been. That sly bugger has managed to drop a random thought in during a meeting.

Now, Andy is in trouble. Somebody, he isn’t even sure who, asks him a question. He has no idea what they have asked.

—Sorry? Didn’t catch that. Getting old, me ears work when they feel like it.

They all laugh.

Steve asks his question. An easy one. About what he should work on next. No bother. He knows the answer to that one, thank fuck.

That is it; he can escape. Ah, except Kev wants a word.

—Right, Kev?

—Ah yeah, er, I need Wednesday off.

—Okay, should be okay—

—I need Thursday and Friday as well.

—Oh, has summat happened then?

—Yeah, family issue. Major one.

—Alright, I’ll sort it.

—Ta, Andy.

The call ends. And now he has a problem. He can’t cover Kev being off. The team are already at capacity. Ah well, he’ll find a way. He always does. The human problems? They are easy. Technology? It hurts his head.

Attack Of The Bones.

Why? Why, Dennis, you git? he wonders. Why does the Phantom called Dennis keep dropping mangled Star Wars film titles into his head?

—Bugger off, Dennis.

He checks his Google Chat messages and then goes to make a brew.