Apr 5, 2005

What's black and grey and...

well, the joke sort of falls apart there, because I can't make it funny. Sorry.

When I was first part of the Polo Shirt Brigade at Depot, lo these many years past, the uniform was a red polo shirt with black cuffs and collar, and your choice of khaki, dark blue or black chinos. The management staff wore grey button-downs with a black OD monogram or grey polos with black cuffs and collars. Naturally, the management as a group being a lot of fashion-minded types, they almost always wore black chinos with this grey shirt, and so I spent most of my first two years there thinking I, being a Red, was about to have to start running for my life from the Sandmen. I would surrepitiously check my palm to see if my crystal was blinking, and then take off like a hare across the store, tossing displays down behind me to slow pursuers, evading blaster bolts by leaping behind customers and endcaps. I never managed to find Sanctuary, let alone get past Box and find the underground exit from the city, but then again they never caught me.

This morning I find myself dressed in a pair of very light khaki chinos, one shade down from white, and a black polo with white trim. Something tells me I'm going to spend most of my day fighting off the urge to slip into my black sport coat, stride boldly to the DOO's office, slam open the door, stand there just long enough for the camera to get a good shot of how menacing I am, and then shout "I am not a number, I am a free man!"

The problems with this behaviour are numerous:

  • 1) The office door is only a single, not a double door, and it's narrow
  • 2) We don't use employee numbers
  • 3) I doubt anyone in the office has seen The Prisoner other than me
  • 4) Same with Logan's Run
  • 5) Most importantly, I'll probably get fired for it

So much for my time in The Village.

I have long wanted to spend a Hallo'een dressed as Number 6, creeping around, being brash and snide, cleverly evading the eye of Rover and Number 2 while plotting my escape, only to have the jail cell doors slam in my face at the last. Unfortunately, being a zombie for Hallo'een is a much more recognisable thing than trying to impersonate a 60's anti-hero spy or a futuristic enforcement officer with ideas that things are better in Sanctuary.

It's times like this that really make me realise that a lot of my humour is simply not designed for anyone but me. "Mrs. Peel? We're needed."

The Prisoner

Logan's Run

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