6am.
As I write, the dawning of week eight, day four, approaches. Each dawning of a new day brings with it new ideas, new hopes, new miracles.
The idea: that handing the task of getting our PCs at work from the guy who is currently responsible (who has attracted various nicknames including "IN-Action Man", "The Invisible Man", and of course that well worn Frontline term "Soft cock"; and who has taken the week off sick) to another department who are not quite so happy that we’re not getting our jobs done.
The hope: that their declaration yesterday that we would get PCs today actually holds water.
The miracle: I’ll let you know of the outcome tonight.
7pm.
Bzzzt. Maybe Monday (tomorrow is ANZAC Day). And that’s the end of week eight.
