View through my window

May 04, 2006

Down and up

I had a conversation with a client on the phone yesterday.
"I'm really sorry I haven't been back to you," I explained, "but the contractor who is going to quote to build the stuff has cried off our site meeting three times".
There is a slight silence at the other end, and a warning bell tinkles faintly in the distance. I plunge on.
"Still, we haven't forgotten you, har har har, and I'm just ringing to say we've arranged a meeting tomorrow at midday if that's ok with you."
She replies. Her tone is smug, her speech rapid, her speech waspish.
"I'm sorry but you're too late, we've given up waiting and we've arranged for someone else to do the work and they're starting on Monday."
Nur na nur na nur nur nur, she might as well have said after this. Her tone of voice said it for her.
"Oh, dear, right." I say. "Okay, I see. Well." I should just put the phone down on the condescending bitch. But my immediate reaction is oh no, I've fucked up and I should be apologising. This is the wrong reaction, with hindsight, I shouldn't be doing anything of the sort, but I'm like that and I didn't get a chance to think. "Right then. Oh dear. Well, I'm really sorry about that, like I say we had to cancel quite a few meetings, so, right, no hard feelings, I expect I might have done the same if I'd been you, really ... right. Best of luck with it then."
"Goodbye."
"Yes, um, bye."
Why the fuck did I say that? I wouldn't have done the same thing, no way. Just me accepting guilt wrongly again. It's only been a couple of weeks, for fuck's sake, it's not as if I've left them hanging in some sort of limbo. They were so nice when I met them. I hated the tone of her voice - she really enjoyed that. Bitch.

This sort of thing sets my mentalness off. It's only a small thing, should be water off a duck's back. But in my mental way I find myself staring into space a lot for the rest of the day, hearing the smug " ... we've given up waiting and we've arranged for someone else ..."; it's running through my head. After a while I can't do anything useful and just want to go and lie on the bed in a foetal position. I don't, of course, that would be ridiculous, but it's what I feel like doing.

I can be so mental, me.

And theeeeeen, something happens to lift me up again. Today, while voting for various worthies at the village hall, I am stopped by Morris Dancing Dave. He really does morris dance. What was that about trying everything once?* At the moment, he has the Village Job of raising the flags on Important Days on the top of the church tower. His knees are giving up a bit though now (too much morris dancing, no doubt, though how much is too much would be an interesting debate - feel free to contribute) and the stairs are incredibly narrow and twisty at the top and make his knees hurt, and he wondered if I'd like to do it instead.

Now, I have a slight quandary, as Dave is The Enemy in that he's one of the group who oppose anybody building anything anywhere in the village. BANANA - build absolutely nothing anywhere near anything, we call it. He wants it to become a sheltered retirement community for rich old people, obviously, and has recently successfully argued that the affordable housing association scheme should not go ahead. So, no place for young people to buy then. I take the opposite view. Still, he's a decent enough bloke despite this.

I have a further quandary in that I'm an atheist, and this is the church flag, but still, I reckon having a key to the belltower, and wandering down to the church of a Friday evening the day before Her Maj's official birthday, or Ascension day, or whatever, and climbing up the windy windy steps and sticking the flag on the rope and hauling it up, and then no doubt stopping for a swift half with an aquaintance or two in one or both of the pubs I have to walk back past on the way home, [breathe] would be a good thing. And it's Contributing. And it's a Privilege to be asked, I reckon. I must be getting Responsible, or something.

So I think that I will justify it by claiming to be representing the LOML when I'm doing it, cos she's a sidesman or whatever they're called, and goes to church. Come to think of it, I don't think Dave goes to church much either.

When really I'm doing it cos I reckon it'll be a laff.

*except incest and morris dancing. Wasn't that the quote? I'm sure someone will fill me in on whom it was. I can't be bothered to google it up.

13 Comments:

  • "Try Everything Once Except Incest & Morris Dancing: The Intimate Autobiography of a Dangerous Lady (Paperback)
    by Linzi Drew
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Availability: Available from these sellers.

    1 used & new available from $102.75"


    there you go!

    (word ver: iq-of-a-peanut)

    (that'll be me: had never heard of the phrase or the book before)(what I've found about blogging, that I didn't realise when I started, is how much one learns and how much of that may or may not be useful for 'real' life. . .)

    By Blogger don't chase it, at 9:51 pm  

  • I've had time to have a look now: I can find attributation to Oscar Wilde (who I thought it was), Sir Thomas Beecham, Sir Arnold Bax, Stephen Fry (wasn't him; earlier than that), George Bernard Shaw, WC Fields and Sir Malcolm Sargeant. And the book you kindly mention.

    So who knows who said it first. It's still a funny line tho.

    By Blogger crisiswhatcrisis, at 11:12 pm  

  • Raising the church flag eh? Well, you have really gone and done it now as from taking one tiny little job it will all escalate.

    Parish council, village hall committee, village fete organiser, bonfire builder, school governor, Good Neighbours scheme etc etc. All these posts await you.

    Yes, they have definitely got you now!

    By Blogger Just Jane, at 8:20 am  

  • Parish council, no. Village hall committee, no. Village fete organiser, check, doing that. Bonfire builder, check, doing that. School governor, the LOML does that. Good Neighbours (well, Neighbourhood Watch), check, doing that.

    You're right. I'm doomed. Arse.

    By Blogger crisiswhatcrisis, at 9:18 am  

  • the first bit: I do all the time. When the shit hits the fan it is always "my" fault in my head, and then it plays on my mind for weeks after, usually at a wholly inappropriate time like 03:37. I lie and stare at the ceiling in the dark, mulling.
    I never did that when I had a job.
    I think it's beginning to eat me from the inside. My own version of Ebola.

    By Blogger the Beep, at 9:59 am  

  • That's just exactly what I do, too. I know it's irrational, but can't help it.

    It must be self-employed designers' disease.

    By Blogger crisiswhatcrisis, at 12:21 pm  

  • except I'm not a designer. Last one was a client who promised much and then just didn't pay their first bill. I don't think proper permisssions had been gathered from within the organisation. That has kept me awake for about 6 weeks. I really really really hate Nuffield Press with a vengance. They are lying cheating scum. At least their marketing "manager" is.

    Feel better now.

    By Blogger the Beep, at 1:34 pm  

  • are you still in the whirlpool?

    actually I think you've been kidding us all about your birthday treat, and the truth is that you're really David Blane

    By Blogger don't chase it, at 6:31 pm  

  • being self employed is incredibly difficult. you should cut yourself some slack!

    By Blogger Kyahgirl, at 4:12 am  

  • hope you're enjoying the beautiful weather BTW

    By Blogger don't chase it, at 9:59 am  

  • this blog is turning into the opposite of what it used to be

    remember when it was a blog with posts and no comments (well, we were all commenting, only the comments kind of disappeared into some tear in the space time continuum). . .

    . . .now it could become all comments and no posts

    (but that is probably only the case because I have TMTOMH and CWC has a job and a life and a LOHL even and a hot-tub-whirl-pool thingy experience)

    By Blogger don't chase it, at 10:02 am  

  • maybe his new activity of hanging flags on poles has superceded the need for a blog. . .

    . . .the desire to blog. . .

    (which wordy thing* goes best with the verb/noun "blog"?)

    *is that adjective or adverb? I really can't recall

    By Blogger I, like the view, at 5:13 pm  

  • i thought it was oscar wilde too. i've been wrong before though. once. it was nineteen eighty three and i said that bruno off of the kids from fame had a perm.

    By Blogger surly girl, at 7:17 pm  

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