A tribute to Neville (AM)

On Friday, Neville, my most beloved work colleague of all time went on maternity leave. It's super awesome for her, but it's pretty much the worst thing to happen at work since the HR lady started going out with the Accounts Payable guy, which is a truly unholy union and so creepy that I am mad at myself for recalling it right now. 

I've worked with some great people over the years. Fragy. Wicketoni. Bumblebee. Oh the stories I could tell (if I could remember them, which I can't, but I know they're good). But Neville is one in a million, which is not to say that there's five more just in New South Wales, but that there can never be another Neville. 

Neville and I have worked together for about 5 years. She got me my current job, more or less. She is one of the funniest people you could ever meet, with some of the best dance moves you could ever see. She is also the best kind of colleague, because she and I think pretty much exactly the same way about work matters, and most other matters too. Though I think she finds Ben Cousins attractive, which is where our paths diverge. 

Neville is the person who would always says "yes" every single time I asked the question "is today a pork roll kind of day?". 

She would narrow her eyes and nod every single time I said something like "you know what really shits me about this place?". 

Every single time I'd walk out of a meeting in my boss' office, Neville would crack the same joke. She would look at me sympathetically and ask "do you need me to help you pack up your desk?" and honestly readers, it killed me every time.

Drunk at some Christmas party, Neville decided that the celebrity that she most looks like is Lily Tomlin, and about once every six months she would email me the picture above and say "seriously, I look just like her". She kind of does. 

Everyone should have a Neville at their workplace. I guess I was lucky that I had such a good run of it. And that I still get to see her in real life, like I did last night when we went out to dinner and she sang me a Kevin Bloody Wilson song as she drove me home. Or the other night when I went over to her house to watch the footy, and when she opened the front door she told me "I've taken my bra off - I'm just letting you know." 

You're the one Neville. I'm going to miss the shit out of you lady.