Wednesday, 7 January 2009

Back to the grind

After I spent Monday exploring Westfield, London's newest, biggest, shiniest shopping centre, debating Miu Miu bag VS ski trip with my Partner in Breakup (who, it turned out, had actually been so ill after our excesses on Saturday night that she managed to convince her mum that it was the noro virus), it's safe to say being a Lady Wot Lunches was beginning to suit me down to the ground.

But as I returned home later that evening, finger hovering over 'send' on a text which read "Yep, tomorrow sounds great. Cuppa round yours at 1?", my mum dropped the bomb. The new admin assistant at her Little School of Horrors hadn't turned up, could I fill in until the end of the week? "Yeah alright. What time?" Ladies and gents, bombshell number two.

8.30am start.

START. Not get up, not leave the house, START.

And because it involves going out of London, that means a 7:30am lift off time.

Anyway - so I turned up, got shown around (it's a tiny place and houses the kids that no school will take; think two lots of security doors to get in and a sign that reads "hand in your belongings" with a picture of a packet of fags and a hoody tacked to the wall) and placed in my room in front of a computer.

Infinitely more lively than a regular office job working with teachers who wouldn't get through the day without a sense of humour and kids who probably don't leave home without an ASBO, it's actually alright. There's just one minor thing, one itsy bitsy teeny weeny little problemo.

It's my computer.

My INTERNET-FREE computer.

My computer which even SOLITAIRE is absent from.

Where am I? 1990?

And where are we in the bomb shell stakes...ah yes, that was number three, next is number four and my sneaky sneaky sneakster mother, who introduced me to everyone we met as "our new admin assistant!".

"Temporary..." I'd add, wondering why she's grinning. "Mum, you said it was just for the rest of this week"
"Well...until we find someone else"
"Are they actually looking for someone else? Because I'm not doing this for months on end. And I'll need part time hours to write."

We'll sort something out, apparently. TEMPORARY. I remind her. TEMPORARY. Why do I get the feeling that my definition is different from everyone elses?

8 comments:

pink jellybaby said...

Oh, it sounds like one of those really sneaky 'mum things'....watch out, before you know it you will have been there 10 years and won't remember what the internet is...

clarissa said...

No Solitaire!!!!! Hell, I suppose you can go hang with some of the kids ....

The Unbearable Banishment said...

Well, that doesn't smell very good at all. How's the cash? It is worth your while? If they get good and addicted to your services, hit 'em up for a fat raise.

Brennig said...

Ah, local authority rates for admin assistants. I don't think you'll do too much time at Westfield on that! :)

Elaine said...

I see what she's doing.
Today admin assistant, tomorrow.....


....teacher.


Ha! She's clever!

Robbie said...

If your bored you could design a nice plaque for your desk that reads "Temporary Assistant"

theperpetualspiral said...

So, have you started teaching yet? :)

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

PJB - things are already getting a bit hazy. Inter-what?

clarissa - Hold onto your phones.

Ubearable - Haven't asked about the cash. It pays better than an unpaid job and/or sitting at home.

Brennig - I am inclined to agree...

Elaine - Oh god. How could I have fallen into her clasp so easily?

Robbie - Splendid idea. I'm onto it

perp - No, although I did actually get more than a grunt out of one of them today. An achievement.

 

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