Sitting upstairs in a quiet pub in central London, letting the sausage and mash and spotted dick settle, swapping unlikely theories on how to make the world a better place. The waitress comes over to clear the table of empty glasses and plates.
Her: Are you web programmers?
Us: Oh, erm, [embarrassed laugh], yeah, does it show?
Her: Sorry, I just overheard y… I was a web programmer.
Us: Oh, right, really?
Her: Yeah. It’s a difficult time isn’t it. I lost my job earlier this year.
Us: Ah. Yeah, er, we know lots of people who lost their jobs. It’s tricky. Er, where were you?
Her: Zinc, an agency that was just over there. We did stuff for Microsoft, banks, that kind of thing. And now here I am clearing up your ketchup.
Us: [pause] Ah, ha ha. Yeah, sorry. Anyway. Er, good luck.