The real life Dilbert - but unfunny.

The project I'm working on is a partnership with another company. They have their main offices in a building across the street from the one I work in. That's where all of their IT gurus sit and do nerd stuff all day. OK, I may be an IT person but I'm not a nerd. My views on nerdism are similar to my views on senile dementia: I feel sorry for people when I see them suffering from it, sometimes I have to hide a smile, snigger or even laughter at their antics.

I like to make it clear to everyone that meets me that if I ever start becoming a nerd in public, or sufffering from senile dementia then I'd like to be shot.

Their building has a whole floor of them. It's like a scene from Shaun of the Dead when you get out of the elevator. Emotionless pale faces look up from the computer screens. You scan faces in the phosphorous pool of light and see an occasional eye twitch as they recognise a human. In their domain! A few jaws fall slowly open as all thought process is dedicated to working out what this human is doing coming to them through his own apparent freewill.

I walk over to the desk of the uber-geek...

Me: "Excuse me mate, where can I find Mazza?"

UG: Blank look."Um."

Me: "Apparently he's one of your database guys?"

UG: "Oh. You mean Martin. He's over there" [points at fat guy trying to pull the back off his chair] "He's re-aligning his desk chariot. Ha. Ha."

Me: [feels nervous] "Umm. Oookaaaayyyy. Thankyouverymuchbye"

Martin likes to call himself Mazza because Martin is such a boring name. I like to call him Martin so I did, much to his annoyance. He could speak only in acronyms and starwars quotes. He asked me if I preferred stored procedures or dynamic procedures. I told him I couldn't really give a toss. He took me over to another nerd who had four 17" flat screens linked together to form one giant one. This nerd had a missle launcher than fired foam missiles when you pressed a button on the taskbar.

For fucks sake.

Martin nearly creamed his pants when he saw the missle launchers and demanded a go. But the other nerd wouldn't let him. My mother used to run a nursery school and it was like the times I used to visit her at work. Because Paul wouldn't let Martin have a go with the missile Martin started showing off the gadgets strapped to his belt. He had a personal satellite navigation system, a G3 mobile, a memory stick of huge proportions and a leatherman multi-tool. I was bemused by the navigation system:

Me: "So, when you get in your car that plugs back in does it?"

Martin: "You can connect it to a car, but I don't drive"

Me: "So, how do you get to work?"

Martin: "I walk. Sometimes I take the bus but it's so full most of the time"

Me: [Thinks - a fucking small planet would be 'full' with you on it, ya fat bastard] "Are you new to Brisbane?"

Martin: "I've lived here about 10 years now"

Me: "And you need a navigation system incase you get lost? Isn't the city only about 5 blocks square?"

Martin: "It's not in case I get lost!"

Me: "Oh? So it's for....?" I leave it hanging as he reddens and begins to realise his own nerdiness

I've got to come back here tomorrow and work with these people to install an updated version of the database. Gnaaagh!

Before I leave I notice a young girl, probably about 17 or 18 in the corner of the open plan office hugging a giant fluffy garfield which is almost the same size as me. Then I notice she's sobbing into it. I guess it's probably her first day and she's just realised she's signed a contract that will effectively end her social life. Poor thing.