Yesterday morning, getting ready for work, I turned on the taps to be greeted with a faint hiss, a couple of wet clicks and - nothing. I tried all the taps, turning them on, off, on, off – nothing. I tried the shower and heard the faint gurgling of distant pipes followed by a dry silence. The bath taps were no different.
I spent 15 minutes checking on and off before giving up and heading to work early. I was dying for a cup of tea. A colleague who lives by me came in and said the water was back on. It had just been a burst main. Half an hour after that, I realised I couldn’t remember whether I’d turned all the taps back off. My imagination ran away. I pictured water gushing out of the taps as my water meter readings span like the play of a slot machine. Moaning to the Practice Manager, I explained my taps predicament.
“Get HOWARD to give you a lift back”, she said. “It’s only 10 minutes away.”
They talked HOWARD into it. Unhappy, he moaned it was “for appearances sake only” and how this would make a dent in his hourly rate. I was grateful for the lift and relieved to find none of my taps on. It took us just under 20 minutes.
I paid for it though:-
“I was surprised I could park,” he told everyone. “Sheltered accommodation is usually disabled parking only out front. I can't imagine living like that. I bet she can stir a tin of beans whilst sitting on the toilet.”
He remembered we’ve got a one-day hotel conference next week where HOWARD is a guest speaker and I’m going along to help. It was some distance away. HOWARD laughed over my lack of transport. I asked how we'd get there. “I’m driving,” he said. “You’re on the bus.” He told me which number to catch.
“I agree with Margaret Thatcher”, he laughed. “If you have to use public transport you know you’ve failed in life. By the way, when I drive past don’t embarrass me by waving. I won’t acknowledge you in public.”
“Fine,” I said. I got the hotel details and opted for train times from the internet.
HOWARD was put out. He did a prompt U-turn, saying he understood it might appear selfish. He insisted he’d give me a lift but, once again, he made it quite clear it was for appearance’s sake only. I realised he doesn’t like it when I’m the one who asserts a desire to stand apart from him. So I’m putting my foot down. I’m going down there by public transport. I’m happy not to travel there with HOWARD or one of his snooty colleagues.
He’s not the only one concerned about his appearance.
See you next week
- Bullied By The Boss
- Welcome to my blog. My pen name is Eva James. I'm an aspiring writer paying the bills working as a legal secretary. Relentlessly bullied by my former boss, I looked for another job but the recession hit. Feeling trapped, I recorded everything in this blog, which serves as a revealing insight into workplace bullying. WEEK 1 starts the story and, as the weeks progress, you'll note what starts as banter soon spirals out of control. Sadly, it's all true. Whilst along the way I've found alternative employment, my passion for blogging about workplace bullying remains. Trevor Griffiths, legendary theatre, TV and film writer said at the outset, "I like the writing a lot: smart, cool, placed. If you were prepared/able to take your prick of a boss on, you'd marmelise him."