Oh, Sheila in Accounts Receivable, you canny minx. To the untrained eye – and let’s face it, just about every eye in this office is untrained – there appeared to be nothing unusual going on in the break room this morning. You bedecked in that maroon cardigan I so adore, I in my blue power shirt with the white collar. I reached for the Coffee-Mate. You reached for the Coffee-Mate. Our hands brushed. Our eyes met. A moment of hesitation, a question hanging in the air. You murmured: “Whoop, sorry, you go ahead.” I parried: “No, that’s OK. I really shouldn’t. This stuff probably causes cancer anyway.” A quizzical look from you that probably meant what are you doing to my heart, you intoxicating, mysterious man? Then you poured your Coffee-Mate and you ran, to entice me with your absence, enchanting traces of Garnier Fructis dancing in your wake.

And so we danced.

Today I bring this silly flirtation to its apex. Today I claim Sheila in Accounts Receivable for my own. Just as the male bird of paradise of Papua New Guinea presents his extravagant plumage to his prospective beloved, so shall I present the end-of-quarter revenue numbers to mine. And instead of a series of hula-like mating dances, I shall use the Kensington Wireless Pocket Presenter.

She’ll be dazzled by my effortless control of my slides from up to 50 feet away. She’ll be awed by my command of its four intuitive buttons. And she’ll be enticed by the way it never, ever runs out of battery power. Well, not for up to two years, anyway. And around here, only Doris ever gives presentations that long, ha! And maybe Eric, too. Wait, didn’t Eric get fired? Never mind – the point is, Sheila, that the Kensington Wireless Pocket Presenter is an arrow from Cupid’s bow headed straight for your heart. Soon we’ll be sharing Coffee-Mate for two.

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