when you’re a working-class hero, only nobody notices

Today, there was a hiatus in the full-steam-ahead panic at work, when I had to down tools and meet the new cellmate, hurrah, eek. Also, the Boss was in too, presumably to check I was being friendly and welcoming as instructed. (Oh come on, Boss, do you really believe that you have to instruct me to make someone feel welcome, when I have to spend forty hours a week in their company? Christ, I made my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something feel welcome, and she’s been a thorn in my side and a snake in my grass ever since. Oo-er.)

Today, the Boss sayeth, Now you are back to having two consultants, and your new cellmate will have one plus the nurse-led clinics, you will obviously have to help hoover up some of the nurse-led work, and I want you to pick that up before you help anyone else. Because it isn’t fair to expect one person to do it all, not when they have a consultant to type for as well, not when the nurse-led stuff has doubled since April.

Right, boss. Essentially: it isn’t fair to expect someone to do… what I’ve been doing all summer, then? And I’ve been expected to hoover up other folks’ work on top of that?

Hee. Dig the best trenches, they will indeed give you a bigger shovel. I dunno how I managed to keep a straight face while she was telling me this. I nearly complimented her on her comic genius, but she does tend to get dreadfully upset when I point this sort of thing out, and take it personally.

I rounded things off by accidentally kicking Dr Grumblepants, Seniorest Of Surgeons, in the leg while trying to step over my colleague’s umbrella. Oops. And indeed, oh shit – that man can hold a grudge for Britain, I’m a dead woman.

His pretense that his knee had come off was quite amusing, however.

And it was divers alarums and excursions all round, as usual. I have decided, however, that this stage of the cold is quite fun. I have a temperature, so everything seems slightly more exciting than it otherwise would, and a slight sense of detachment from the world, and a tendency to giggle at the drop of a hat. Apart from the generalised achy pain and the feeling like someone’s taken a wrench to me head, the symptoms could certainly be a lot worse, and I can open my bedroom window and sit in a gale and feel pleasantly cool, which is a nice change because I am always and forever far too sodding cold.

Another early night. Despite sleeping eight hours in every twenty-four, it just doesn’t seem to be enough, somehow.


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in forever coming down with something, please don't fire me. Bookmark the permalink.

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