What's the point in IT?

The IT training room at work feels a bit like being in prison. A high quality prison, but a prison all the same. All the tacky matching-but-cheap furnishings cloned from every IT suite across the universe (there's probably an alien somewhere, wrestling with computer concepts, sitting on the dual adjustable office chair) laid out so you can only stare at your monitor or the magnolia wall. It feels like you've been sent to the naughty corner. The single, small window is set high in the wall to avoid the wanton allure of the suburban paradise below distracting us from our task. I stood on tiptoe to open the window to try to alleviate the drone from the monitors and ceiling projector. A pneumatic drill started attacking some belligerent concrete outside. The window was closed. The air went dry. The room remained souless.

The wall screen bore the time in its curled up corner, cruelly accurate to the minute.

I gazed despondently out of the grey window at the grey sky.

'The anti-bird netting seems to be woven into interesting trapeziums' I thought desperately to myself. Just at that moment, an anarchic pigeon released two dollops of poo that splattered across the window pane.

It was OK, it was grey.

It matched.