ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
“Fuck!” he said loudly enough to fill them empty break room.
French Quarter corporate lawyer Darcy Mulholland was just minutes late knocking off for afternoon tea today – but it proved just enough for every Scotch Finger in the Arnott’s Family Assortments tray to disappear.
His employers, Minter Nopeopleskills & Utz, generously put on a tray of biscuits every smoko and afternoon tea but according to Mr Mullholland, the early bird gets the Scotch finger – and that needs to change.
“Honestly, the first bloke in the room must just take the five Scotchies and fuck off,” he said, candidly.
“I got here like three minutes after the bell went and there’s just these fucking bland, wookatook-looking things sitting in the tray looking back at me. Someone’s even picked up all the ANZAC biscuits!”
“What would the fucking diggers think? This country was founded and defended on mateship. There’s nothing friendly about taking all the ANZAC bickies! If I have to have one of those oval bastards with my Dilmah tomorrow again tomorrow, I’m going to fucking snap!”
Our reporter spoke to Darcy’s supervising partner, who already hates Darcy for a myriad of reasons, about the issue the impressively unpopular junior solicitor raised with our news organ.
She was less than impressed.
Dr Wendy Greensmith SC took time out of her busy afternoon of billable hours and berating people less competent than her to speak to The Advocate in her chambers about the availability of Scotch Fingers in the firm’s break room.
“You know last week Darcy made a really big boo-boo,” she said.
“Just 40 minutes away from the deadline, I walked over to his desk to see if he’d lodged proceedings on a matter due to be heard in Federal Court. Do you know what he said? He said that he probably wouldn’t be able to get it done in time – with 40 minutes until the deadline – he chose to say that to me, the person ultimately responsible for it,”
“So I gave him a very uneloquent tongue-lashing in front of everyone then put him on his last warning. Now you come to me with his issues over the what? The fucking Scotch Fingers in the break room? Honest to God, I think I’m having a fucking stroke. The hide on that moron!”
As The Advocate could only afford 600 seconds of Dr Greensmith’s time, our reporter decided to conclude the interview there.
More to come.
