[ring ring]
"Hi Katie, it's Dan."
"Hi Dan, what's up?"
"Uhm, I'm just filling in the ah, overtime spreadie, and it keeps coming back to me saying that I work half-an-hour overtime every day. Like, even when I work my minimum hours, it says I work half an hour overtime."
"Well, what are your contracted hours?"
"Nine to five-fifteen with a 45 minute break for lunch."
"Hang on, I'll just...
[shuffle of paper]
...no, according to this, it's nine to four-forty-five. Your minimum is seven hours."
"..."
"Dan?"
"Can I call you right back?"
"Sure."
[hang-up]
"FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!! Motherfucker! Fuck-fuck-fuck-shit-ass-balls-fuck-shit-hell-cunting-assballs!
Fuck.
[ring ring]
Hi Katie, yeah, I must have heard someone say quarter-past instead of quarter-to. I'll ah, start leaving half-an-hour early.
Thanks!"
This is a 
Leaving the office at 4:45 ... I have dreams where I can do that.
I call them heaven dreams.
You work a SEVEN AND THREE-QUARTER HOUR DAY?!?!
Now THAT'S the dream.
And err...Adrian? You're going to be in an office in heaven? Personally, I think that's weird.
Well ... when there's a bid on I get massive overtime ... but when there isn't, I pretty much sit around doing not a whole lot. So an extra half hour of that a day for five months is not glad tidings.