"It's been very nice working with you," said the receptionist as she shovelled her stuff into a carrier bag, emptying out half the kitchen cupboard's tea and biscuits.
"Well, it's been very nice working with you too," I said, as I took one of the remaining biscuits, a few seconds before the implications of what she'd just said hit me.
"Are you... are you leaving?" I squeaked. I hadn't been informed of this; as far as I was aware, she hadn't made any plans of the sort at all. I'd gotten used to her presence, and here she was, very clearly packing to leave.
"I just can't work here any more," she said, before invoking the name of our - now my - boss. "I've never met someone with such a dirty mind!"
I, of course, have. But something seemed a little off about this statement.
My boss is a fundamentalist Christian who runs a salvation-style church. She occasionally has me editing - for money - odd Christian literature which I don't necessarily agree with, but I do it because money. She doesn't laugh at - or, seemingly, get - innuendo (the rest of the staff pepper their speech with it), and (while I've never asked) I doubt she'd describe herself as sex-positive. Not that I'd imagine she knows the term.
My friend-who-is-a-teacher has a dirty mind. The blonde girl who discussed her masturbation habits with me had a dirty mind. Stu Nugent has a dirty mind. As for my incredibly strait-laced boss, well, she has perhaps the least dirty mind in Christendom. It's hardly full of filth, at least. Which made the comment so incongruous.
"You did say that, right?" I asked as she tapped my number into her 'phone. "We are talking about the same person? You did say dirty mind?"
"Absolutely," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Anyway, I'm off."
And she walked out.
I don't think I'll ever work this one out.