Some days I just can’t be arsed.
Today was one of those days.
So on top of it being Monday, which ALWAYS ruins a good weekend, I have a dicky throat.
And no, I don’t have one in my throat….. yeah, I know what you are all thinking…..
Anyway, it’s Monday, my voice keeps coming and going and I sound like a cross between Barry & Betty White, and its group interview day.
Now, I have mentioned briefly my love of group interview day at work before. (insert sarcasm anywhere in that sentence).
So I’m sitting here, and everyone is coming through the door nicely spaced. And I’m having to repeat myself constantly with my voice continually changing from a sexy Barry baritone to shrieky Betty.
(Barry White)”Here for group interview? (BettyWhite) Just sign in on the sheet and then (Barry) write your first name on the (Betty) sticker sheet and wear it (Barry) on your shirt (Betty) as a name tag”. It’s completely exhausting by the way.
They don’t even have the decency to come in the office in pairs. Nope, that would be too helpful. Anyway, a bloke comes in and stands at the counter. Staring at me. Which is as creepy as it sounds.
I take a deep breath and open my mouth not knowing which of my voices is going to come out and give him my spiel. He stares at me for a moment, then, just when I start to think I am going to have to repeat myself, he picks up the pen and signs in. And then he stares at me. (still creepy) I point at the sticker sheet. He picks it up and I go back to my work. I glance up and instead of writing his name, he’s reading the back of the sheet. The. Back. Of. The. Sheet. Which by the way, is simply a standard spiel about their sizes, and how they have changed, and how to create a template. He looks at me and says, “I don’t understand what this is for”
Of course you don’t you twat.
I sigh. Heavily. I take the sheet from him and put it down on the counter and say, “I asked you to write your name on the sticker and wear it as a name tag” So he picks up the felt pen and writes his name. But instead of writing his name across the width of the sticker, He does this:
OK, so that’s not his real name, and he’s not Australian, but you get the idea. I sighed. Heavily. Again. Because he’s holding the sheet out to me.
What the fuck…..?
And so I repeat myself. Again. (I’m driving myself crazy with the repetitive nature of this encounter) “I don’t want the sheet, just peel it off and wear it for a name tag.” I tried not to roll my eyes, but I think I may have failed. … Actually I know I failed.
I didn’t even bother to watch if he put the name tag on sideways or not. My money’s on him getting a managers position.
And so my day continued. My voice has not improved. Talking endlessly on the phone all day. Hearing the same joke. All day. “My you’re sounding sexy today” ha ha ha, yeah, thanks, haven’t heard that one before…. More eye rolling. No wonder I have a headache. Eye strain.
So, I’m sitting here at work, typing this. I’ve got 13 minutes to go of my ten hour day. I’m completely knackered. I told hubs I’m not cooking dinner. So he’s taking me out. To Hungry Jacks. Which, if you are not from Australia is like Burger King. Only the best.
Yep, I’m rolling my eyes again. But at least he’s paying!