(At least, everyone else probably thinks this last bit; having only just got back after Redemption, it certainly feels like a Monday to me.)
We all traipse out into the car park, muttering about poxy fire drills (there was one only last week, and there were complaints about how well it had all gone, since the building has two new occupants). And we stand. And shiver. And wait.
And then everybody starts trooping back towards the building. We follow. They all keep going. Past the building, and further down the road. Huh?
Not a drill after all. Nor, it seems, is it an actual fire. It's a bomb threat. Really.
So we shiver a lot more, much further down the road, muttering about hoax callers, and being baffled by the official behaviour: fire wardens are stopping cars driving out of the cul-de-sac, 'cos that would have meant driving past the building, but the police (who have now turned up) haven't stopped the normal traffic on the main road. There's a bus stop right outside the building, and that's still operational.
An hour or so in, some of us wander off (the long way round) to get coffee. And later, everyone who's still standing heads to the pub.
We eventually find out that the police are considering this an "unauthenticated thread": no code word, and they're officially offering no opinion as to whether to re-enter the building. That's up to the managers. However, they, themselves, are sodding off home. Our manager gives us the choice: Go straight home; go back in and get stuff, then leave; go back to work. Our call. Assume all normal tomorrow. And what, pray tell, is going to happen between now and tomorrow morning, that means it'll all be back to normal?
We go back to work. About 60% of the rest bugger off home.