The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

You are not going to believe what my colleagues are doing on Monday in the office. Christmas eve and we are at work - half day. Nothing really goes on - workwise - during the holiday season. The financial markets are thinly traded, very volatile, nobody wants to enter any risky positions, and anyway, everyone is a bit festive and drinking champagne by the bucket (in the US, something non-alcoholic, naturally, like sparkling water).

One of our brokers sends us a link to an online video game - Dating Ariane. It's taken the world by storm, or so I am told. In essence, by playing for hours, if you are skillful and you know what a woman wants, you get lucky with Ariane. If not, you traverse an increasingly frustrating landscape of waywardness and delicate mind-control to persuade the woman to get her top off. Or to toss you out the door. Not unlike real-life dating, then.

The guys (and some girls) in the office have no time for niceties. They search online for a cheat sheet and go after Ariane with a vengeance. Either the instructions are not clear enough, or they are playing a different version, but they are not making much progress. Sure, Ariane agrees to flash her boobies, compliments them several times on their physicality and intellect; even gets into the hot tub and plays truth or dare (you can imagine where that can lead). But something or the other always interferes with the grand finale. Either she gets too drunk or irritated by their diffidence or put off by their eagerness, or, well - you play it and you will know.

By the time I leave at noon, the cries of outrage and bafflement are resounding throughout the trading floor. You didn't feed her before getting her high! I hear one worthy exclaim. Oh, she is such a tease! says another. Cor, she reminds me of my ex, says a third, breaking into a sweat.

Chuckling, I go home filled with a sniggering sense of superiority. I am going to play Ariane quietly without distractions and with the correct cheat sheet. Heheheheh.


Post a Comment