Monday, 23 February 2009

Correct usage of a white board.

Ahhh, the first day back at work after half term, which started with the requisite hour and a half spent in traffic trying (ironically) to avoid more traffic on the M1. What could be worse than that? Errr...How about an empty biscuit tin.

As a note went up on the staff room white board asking everyone to pay their termly money, out of which tea, coffee and biscuits would be bought, I was put in charge of the collection. Because that's the kind of important thing an Admin Assistant is charged with. "Here, hey you with your degree and masters with distinction, keep hold of this envelope, will you? Don't lose it!". After a couple of hours, one of the teaching assistants went off on her usual Monday shopping trip, list in hand, and the money gathered so far in my carefully sealed envelope. Remember folks, this is tea, coffee and biscuit money.

Two hours later and Colonel Thicky returns, with £14 worth of tea and coffee. An outraged cry goes up in the staff room. Where are the biscuits? "Oh, I didn't know I was meant to get biscuits!"...Great, so you spent the whole lot on tea? Tea and coffee? Four packs of tea? Reaallyyy? What good is tea and coffee with nothing to dunk in it?

My day had been so boring that I'd been counting down the minutes until that sweet, biscuity goodness was in my mouth - and now my dreams were shattered. The money gathered so far was gone, spent, dilapidated, on 400 tea bags. We needed more money, and we needed it fast. I had a biscuity hole that no fruit bowl could fill (celery sticks, that's what she brought back as well. Celery sticks! Amateur). There was only one thing for it: whiteboard annotation.



Teachers can't live for the here and now though. They're all about the future. Which is why a few minutes later, my presently unhappy stick-ish Jo was joined by me in 20 years, post-biscuits and considerably rounder, accompanied by yet another chorus of "I was your size once!"

Yawn. Sunshine, your problems go way deeper than biscuits, let me tell you.

9 comments:

Brennig said...

At least the Jo in 20 years is a very smiley, if rotund, person. Not like the sour-faced old boots who wistfully sigh about their former shape.

Robbie said...

Nice realisation of the future there Jo.

Personally I'm not a dunker, but I'd of still put money forward for the Jo fund.

pinkjellybaby said...

But you're a size 6/8...well that's just not fair is it ;)

Mouldy-Old-Tartlet said...

So were you supposed to dunk the celery sticks in the tea? Or am I taking this too far ... ?

surviving myself said...

If it's any consolation - I like what you've done with your hair in 20 years.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

Brennig - I did consider adding a further annotation to the board today to the tune of "Look how happy I am as a fat person. Why can't you all be happy too?" but thought the better of it.

Robbie - Well, it depends on what there is to dunk. I think digestives need to the dunked or they're a bit of a lost cause :(

pjb - No, apparently it's not fair. However, being a size 6/8 does not stop you looking like an absolute horror or being a complete bitch. Not that I'm either of those, but just a reminder that size generally means bugger all :-D

MOT - Eurgh, god knows. They just sit there in the staff room, surrounded by people who gush about how lovely they are. Blearrruughhhhh. Rancid.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

surviving - there goes my "just because I'm getting old, doesn't mean I have to cut my hair off and get a bob" mantra straight out the window. dammit.

cheeky hound said...

the mcvities caramels win every single time. my summer job, too, entailed an office-buying amateur. no, cocktail sausages will not last, and will not be there when the office munchies come calling the next day. buck up your ideas woman!
ps. i love your blog. x

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

I tell thee, you just can't get the staff these days. Cocktail sausages and celery belong at middle aged parties, not the staff room. Thanks for the token of love, cheeky hound.

 

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