So it was with anxious and nervous excitement that I sat in my tiny, almost windowless office one fateful Thursday afternoon. Entries for the competition had closed the previous day and I had a sneaking suspicion that the organisers would be calling the winners that day. Not really expecting to win, but hoping against hope I was struggling to complete any real work and found myself staring at my phone to once again check and recheck that the battery still had charge and that signal was still being received. And like the 19 previous times I'd checked, both battery and signal were strong.
I needed a distraction, something, anything to take my mind off waiting for a phone call that would probably never come. So I attempted to do some real work. I failed. No sooner had I opened a report to start work on it did my right hand, as if I had developed alien hand syndrome, move the mouse over to my web browser and open my favourite gaming website. I perused the forums, replying to a few posts and for a while I was distracted. However; the distraction didn't last and gradually, that itching, clawing sensation in my stomach, less like butterflies and more like ravenous porcupines, came roaring back with a vengeance. This was getting ridiculous.
A cigarette would calm my shaky nerves I thought. So I grabbed my phone and a smoke and headed outside to carcinogenically calm myself. The smoke was gone in less than two minutes as I tried to inhale the whole thing in one fell swoop. Damn! It hadn't really worked. Now, not only did I have rabid porcupines in my stomach, my head was lighter than a feather and the world was spinning around me. This can't go on, I thought. If I didn't hear something soon, I was going to end up in the E.R. Making my way back to my desk, dizzy and somewhat nauseas I checked my phone once again. No miraculously missed calls, no emails, no texts. What is this! Not only have I not heard any news about the competition, but now I find that no one loves me.
That's when I felt it. The initial vibration of the handset before the ringtone can begin. Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzzzzzz. It was like Ambrosia. I looked at the screen as my ringtone finally started. The theme song from "Dexter". There was no name on screen, only 10 digits. The final 8 don't really matter, only the first two.
(02).
A zero and then a two. This meant that the call was coming from New South Wales. I knew the offices of the company running the competition were in New South Wales. I don't know anyone else in New South Wales do I? Could this be it? A full moon must have risen in my stomach as the porcupines were now were-porcupines, gnashing and tearing and ripping my insides to shreds. With shaky hands I hit receive.
"Hello, Leo speaking"
"Hi Leo. We're just calling to tell you that we think you have the goods and want you to travel to London with us to play in the Brink tournament"
Silence
"Are you ***ink kidding me! Oh *** sorry! Oh man that's not better"
My hands were shaking. My knees were weak and I felt nauseas again, but in a good way.
"Of course we are serious! You're going to London!"
"HOLY CRAP!!! Thank you so much, this is insane! Oh my god!"
The voices on the other end explained that I would receive an email later on in the day and that they required some information to organise the trip but by then I was only half listening. My mind was racing with fantastical images.
Me riding on the top of a double decker.
Me standing in front of Buckingham Palace in a bearskin hat.
Me being knighted by Her Majesty the Queen.
Each successive thought became more outrageous and outlandish. In my mind I was already going to usurp the throne and become the next King of England. At least that's how amazing I felt after hearing the good news.
The phone call ended and I was shaking and spent. It was surreal and suddenly the volume of the world got turned turn down to about half. There was a buzzing in my head that was deafening and drowning out real life. Stomach Van Helsing must have arrived as my insides were quieted. I put my phone back on my desk and once again attempted to get some work done.
Once again. I failed.
No comments:
Post a Comment