Yes, Your Majesty
Holy. Shit.
It's 10 at night and I'm still sitting at my desk at work, listening to Neutral Milk Hotel and feeling too wide-eyed to breathe. This had to be the busiest day I've EVER had. From 10 this morning, the work just didn't stop coming.
First, we were deeply embroiled in an organ trading scandal, then the brother of someone famous got sent to sleep with the fishes and finally a top religious figure popped his clogs after lunch. (Sorry this is all a bit mysterious, but it's got to be a surprise tomorrow morning, innit!) My heart's been pounding to the rhythm of my fingers as they fly over the keys, and I haven't had a mouthful of coffee all day. Since ten, I ain't had a moment to think.
Somewhere in the midst of it though, I received a call from someone Very Important.
My mobile rang in the afternoon as I was hastily pounding out a badly-spelt missive and I grabbed it without thinking and sang, "Hey!" into the receiver.
Immediately, a rough voice barked into the receiver, "I WILL TAKE QUESTIONS NOW!"
The faintly familiar stentorian, upper crust tones made me bolt from my seat and nearly drop the phone.
"What? Who is this?" I gasped, trying to sandwich it between shoulder and ear.
"WHAT?!" The woman on the end sounded deeply offended and suddenly, in a blinding flash of realisation, I placed her. The daughter of Singapore's founder and sister of the current Prime Minister. I'd never spoken to her or seen her in my life, but she had traces of her father's well-known voice in her own.
The crisp, curt tones were clearly throwbacks to her father's British vowels. As was her manner of speaking, much like waving a bothersome little fly away from her face.
"LOOK HERE, DON'T YOU THINK THIS IS THE STUPIDEST THING YOU'VE EVER HEARD?" she yelled about one of the official's statements with great authority.
I cringed in my seat, unsure of what to say. "Um..."
"COME NOW! I'M NOT AFRAID TO TELL ANYONE WHAT I THINK!" She boomed as I went scrambling for a pen and a clean page in my notebook. With the air of someone used to being listened to all her life, she rattled answers off with great speed and vim, making me pray fervently that I was not misquoting her, and thinking please GOD don't let her remember my name after this conversation is over.
The whole conversation was vaguely surreal, and I felt like I was on a fox hunt on the grounds of the Buckingham Palace with the Queen herself shouting "Pip pip! Tally Ho!" instructions with a hearty, tweedy pomp and splendour.
At one point, when, unclear of her meaning I requested that she repeat herself, she took a deep breath and bellowed at me, "MY GIRL! YOUR EDITOR TELLS ME HIS FEMALE REPORTERS ARE SMARTER THAN HIS MALE ONES, AND YOU'RE ASKING ME WHAT I MEAN?"
Um, yes Your Majesty, no, Your Majesty, of course, Your Majesty, I wanted to say, but instead, a squeak issued from my throat like air from a balloon. Despite all her barking and commanding, even though I felt a little mad at being talked down to, I also couldn't help liking the bird's spunk, her clear sense of who she was and what she wanted and her extremely forthright way of speaking her mind - the same way you come to like a crusty old aunt who expresses affection through gruffness.
Besides, the woman is a neurologist, and that is something I admire deeply.
"HAVE YOU GOT ENOUGH?" She trilled at the end of the conversation.
Yes, I did, I replied, simultaneously flummoxed, awed and annoyed.
"GOOD!" She dug deep and delivered her final edict in a hoarse proclaimation, "NOW, RUN!" and promptly hung up the phone without so much as a "goodbye" or "you're welcome".
Huh, I thought, sliding my Samsung shut, so this is how the other half lives.
It's 10 at night and I'm still sitting at my desk at work, listening to Neutral Milk Hotel and feeling too wide-eyed to breathe. This had to be the busiest day I've EVER had. From 10 this morning, the work just didn't stop coming.
First, we were deeply embroiled in an organ trading scandal, then the brother of someone famous got sent to sleep with the fishes and finally a top religious figure popped his clogs after lunch. (Sorry this is all a bit mysterious, but it's got to be a surprise tomorrow morning, innit!) My heart's been pounding to the rhythm of my fingers as they fly over the keys, and I haven't had a mouthful of coffee all day. Since ten, I ain't had a moment to think.
Somewhere in the midst of it though, I received a call from someone Very Important.
My mobile rang in the afternoon as I was hastily pounding out a badly-spelt missive and I grabbed it without thinking and sang, "Hey!" into the receiver.
Immediately, a rough voice barked into the receiver, "I WILL TAKE QUESTIONS NOW!"
The faintly familiar stentorian, upper crust tones made me bolt from my seat and nearly drop the phone.
"What? Who is this?" I gasped, trying to sandwich it between shoulder and ear.
"WHAT?!" The woman on the end sounded deeply offended and suddenly, in a blinding flash of realisation, I placed her. The daughter of Singapore's founder and sister of the current Prime Minister. I'd never spoken to her or seen her in my life, but she had traces of her father's well-known voice in her own.
The crisp, curt tones were clearly throwbacks to her father's British vowels. As was her manner of speaking, much like waving a bothersome little fly away from her face.
"LOOK HERE, DON'T YOU THINK THIS IS THE STUPIDEST THING YOU'VE EVER HEARD?" she yelled about one of the official's statements with great authority.
I cringed in my seat, unsure of what to say. "Um..."
"COME NOW! I'M NOT AFRAID TO TELL ANYONE WHAT I THINK!" She boomed as I went scrambling for a pen and a clean page in my notebook. With the air of someone used to being listened to all her life, she rattled answers off with great speed and vim, making me pray fervently that I was not misquoting her, and thinking please GOD don't let her remember my name after this conversation is over.
The whole conversation was vaguely surreal, and I felt like I was on a fox hunt on the grounds of the Buckingham Palace with the Queen herself shouting "Pip pip! Tally Ho!" instructions with a hearty, tweedy pomp and splendour.
At one point, when, unclear of her meaning I requested that she repeat herself, she took a deep breath and bellowed at me, "MY GIRL! YOUR EDITOR TELLS ME HIS FEMALE REPORTERS ARE SMARTER THAN HIS MALE ONES, AND YOU'RE ASKING ME WHAT I MEAN?"
Um, yes Your Majesty, no, Your Majesty, of course, Your Majesty, I wanted to say, but instead, a squeak issued from my throat like air from a balloon. Despite all her barking and commanding, even though I felt a little mad at being talked down to, I also couldn't help liking the bird's spunk, her clear sense of who she was and what she wanted and her extremely forthright way of speaking her mind - the same way you come to like a crusty old aunt who expresses affection through gruffness.
Besides, the woman is a neurologist, and that is something I admire deeply.
"HAVE YOU GOT ENOUGH?" She trilled at the end of the conversation.
Yes, I did, I replied, simultaneously flummoxed, awed and annoyed.
"GOOD!" She dug deep and delivered her final edict in a hoarse proclaimation, "NOW, RUN!" and promptly hung up the phone without so much as a "goodbye" or "you're welcome".
Huh, I thought, sliding my Samsung shut, so this is how the other half lives.
She said, she said at 11:10 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home