Pompous Ponce has made it clear to everybody but Talkie that he doesn’t like her. She annoys him with her incessant babbling. Talkie has been looking for a flat ever since she moved here and finally found one – in PP’s building (she didn’t know that he lived there when she found the flat).
Many of us find that quite funny.
We were given a set amount of photocopies that we were allowed to make at the beginning of the year. Every teacher was assigned their own photocopy code and the photocopier tracks them itself. I've always thought that that was a bit daft due to the fact that teachers always need to supplement their course books with other materials for their students and have said that once I reach my limit, I would stop photocopying for the year. I reached it yesterday and got a message on the copies could no longer be made on my number.
MrT [jumps, puts arms in the air in the teachers' room]: 'HOORAY!!! I'VE DONE IT!'
*Other teachers stare at me*
Bossman comes into the teachers' room: 'What are you on about, MrT?'
MrT: 'Look at the photocopier!'
BM: 'Have you broken it?'
MrT: 'No, and I won't be able to. Read what it says. I don't have to make any photocopies for the rest of the year!'
BM reads the message and realises why I'm so happy.
BM: 'Nice try, MrT. My number is ****.'
Oh well, at least I had accomplished my goal.
It’s only a folder
Secretary from Hell gave me permission to use her computer while she was at lunch yesterday. I checked my email and did some surfing and gave it back to her when she returned.
She sat down at her computer and realised that I had accidentally closed one of her folders and went on the rampage. ‘YOU CLOSED MY FOLDER! IF YOU’RE GOING TO USE MY COMPUTER YOU CAN’T DO THINGS LIKE THAT! THIS IS SO INCONVENIENT’ and she continued on for five minutes. I apologised to her several times, but she continued on.
Realising that she might not know how to open it, I went over to her computer to help her.
MrT: ‘Young Secretary, how do I find the folder that I closed for SfH?’
YS: ‘SfH knows how to open it.’
MrT: ‘You mean I’ve spent the last five minute being told off for something insignificant as this and SHE KNOWS how to open it again? Aaaggghhh!’ and I walked out of the office.
Nothing is ever easy here.
You look lethal today
I just don't understand my colleagues. Ask one simple question, and they misunderstand and jump all over you. They search for hidden meanings in E V E R Y T H I N G that one says. I have lots of examples and here's one:
Daftie: 'You look lethal today.'
MrT: 'I have no idea what you you're talking about.' - I was clueless
Daftie [annoyed tone]: 'FUCK OFF, MrT! DON'T TAKE THE PISS OUT OF ME!' [and she stormed out of the teachers' room].
Puzzled by this bizzare run-in, I asked Talkie (who also in the teachers' room when it happened) if she knew what Daftie had meant, and she didn't either.
Talkie gets broken in
Talking came up to me exasperated about a few experiences she's had with Secretary from Hell in the past few weeks. After fifteen minutes of sitting and listening to her wax on lyrically about it, she looked at me and said, 'What's wrong with that woman?' Seeing that as a point where I might actually be able to get a word in, I said, 'Do you want the whole list or just the top 5?' to which she smiled and continued her symposium.