Office buildings beside the old Courtyard pub in Coventry City Centre.
TEXT: Mike had short, dark hair. That was apparently the only reason the following situation occurred. On a dreary Monday, while he was waiting in the canteen for a sausage and onion batch, a manager from another department mentioned to his breakfast table allies that Mike resembled a german dictator. The words were overheard, but the subject kept his back turned, and quickly forgot the comment. However, over the next few weeks, Mike noticed other managers speaking pseudo deutsch at him. Goose steps along the director’s corridors. Although strange, he didn’t react. Mike found it interesting that the others thought him stupid enough not to notice. As the weeks unfolded, he watched as certain colleagues responded differently to the joke. Some laughed nervously, and then distanced themselves from the mass undercover hysterics. While others, some who were quite close to him, openly mocked, obviously feeling a very apparent sense of comedic superiority. Still, Mike failed to show that he even recognised the signs, and even replied to questions in German, as if in some twisted manner to perpetuate his position. Some people winced when it was thought he might have clicked, others guffawed in his face, unable to believe that somebody could be so naively unaware. It was never malicious, well, as far as he knew. It was the natural human trait of camaraderie, an inside humour for his colleagues to share. But now it had gone on for so long, Mike didn’t quite have the method to admit he knew. After a few months, the comments petered out. But to this day, he still receives the odd office Heil.