It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing
What a crappy day.
Every person working at Juvinile Court seems to be on holiday (bloody bastard civil servants and all their days off). I got in too late (tired), amidst screaming telephones. Apparently my colleague (who's always late) was a tad earlier than me and had to leave her bag and coat in the kitchen to rush for the phone.
I tried to write a report, but nothing came to me.
Then the AllMale Heterosexual Manly Man came to work. He told us about the tiles he's changing on his terrace. Where to find a good cleaning lady (the other colleague doesn't want a "social case"... erm...) and the stuff he fixed on his car. He's willing to pay 50.000 Euro for a fence around his house (what is it? A fucking villa?!). All this interests me to no end, over dinner. You can imagine.
In the afternoon I got lost four times, while trying to find a house. Found it eventually, after phoning the person I was meant to be meeting. Argh. She moaned to me about how it's difficult when someone else comes than the usual social worker. (who comes all of twice a year, when she should be going four times). You think it's tough for YOU honey, try my side of things! I get calls about 30 files, in about 20 of those I've never met anyone or I'm still trying to decipher my pre-decessor's handwriting, my colleagues aren't really my "colleagues" since I'm only there on a month-per-month basis. I'm not part of the "team" so I'm basically meant to fend for myself. Anyway. Not to rant, not to rant. Then I drove 30 kilometres in blistering sun/rain/thunder/blistering sun/rain/thunder (cue Piglet taking her sunglasses on and off, and on and off), through pollen swimming (flying?) in front of my car, got lost, looked on map (three times), found the place I was meant to go to... to discover no-one was home.
AAAAAAARGH.
Who has a pencilpushing job for me? Anywhere?!
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What a crappy day.
Every person working at Juvinile Court seems to be on holiday (bloody bastard civil servants and all their days off). I got in too late (tired), amidst screaming telephones. Apparently my colleague (who's always late) was a tad earlier than me and had to leave her bag and coat in the kitchen to rush for the phone.
I tried to write a report, but nothing came to me.
Then the AllMale Heterosexual Manly Man came to work. He told us about the tiles he's changing on his terrace. Where to find a good cleaning lady (the other colleague doesn't want a "social case"... erm...) and the stuff he fixed on his car. He's willing to pay 50.000 Euro for a fence around his house (what is it? A fucking villa?!). All this interests me to no end, over dinner. You can imagine.
In the afternoon I got lost four times, while trying to find a house. Found it eventually, after phoning the person I was meant to be meeting. Argh. She moaned to me about how it's difficult when someone else comes than the usual social worker. (who comes all of twice a year, when she should be going four times). You think it's tough for YOU honey, try my side of things! I get calls about 30 files, in about 20 of those I've never met anyone or I'm still trying to decipher my pre-decessor's handwriting, my colleagues aren't really my "colleagues" since I'm only there on a month-per-month basis. I'm not part of the "team" so I'm basically meant to fend for myself. Anyway. Not to rant, not to rant. Then I drove 30 kilometres in blistering sun/rain/thunder/blistering sun/rain/thunder (cue Piglet taking her sunglasses on and off, and on and off), through pollen swimming (flying?) in front of my car, got lost, looked on map (three times), found the place I was meant to go to... to discover no-one was home.
AAAAAAARGH.
Who has a pencilpushing job for me? Anywhere?!
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