Sweet Baby Jesus!

I’m back on Twitter. Turns out it was because my computers suddenly started not liking the new version of Twitter – both my home and work PC’s. Not sure why they suddenly took a turn for the worse but there we are. Anyway, some fiddling and a fixing and I’m back on the old version and back on line! I am very lonely there though, I think I may be tweeting to a big cyber black hole, talking to myself (nothing new there) and no one else. So if you happen to be on there come and follow me @Nancyclue and maybe tweet back so I don’t feel like a complete twat. I suppose not everyone’s into this Twitter thing, I wasn’t up until about 3 weeks ago and now I’m hooked. It’s also filling the abyss that is FaceFart as this no longer works on my PC. Seems to be working on everyone elses but it’s not the kind of thing you ring the IT help desk for is it?

“Hi there my Facebook isn’t working, could someone drop everything they are doing and come sort that out for me so I can carry on using it on work time? Thanks awfully.”

Yesterday the Temp reached all new highs with the question asking. I’d put her down as a competent, experienced gal with a hint of initiative but it appears not. Well if she does they she’s not showing it and the initiative has not kicked in yet. I can understand the asking of questions regarding things like what a particular contract might be or who to contact about a missing document, she’s still finding her feet after all but when I end up actually doing her job for her I start to question whether we’re getting our £8 an hours worth here.

Questions ranged from “where do I find some envelopes?” (she has been to the stationary cupboard before, I’ve seen the evidence on her desk – bit of a spending spree) to how she should write an email. There has also been the numerous enquiries about British life that seem to allude and confuse her such as “why are you wearing a poppy?” (I know my history isn’t brilliant but the Australians did join the war didn’t they?) to “where can I get a poppy?” (have you not walked into a shop / train station / bank / our own office reception in the past 2 weeks?) and after my comment about the weather warnings yesterday her excited exclamation of “there’s a storm coming?!” Sorry, not a storm by Southern Hemisphere standards I’m afraid, there will be some strong winds and some rain is all.

I know even reading this back I am sounding like a grade A beeatch but it is fairly relentless. She also seems bemused at things I say and not only speaks at very low levels but seems to have a hearing problem as well. I know I am prone to muttering but I articulate fairly well and if someone is asking me something I’ll reply in a nice clear voice (unless it’s gossip of course in which case it’s hushed tones…). However with the Temp it’s like Chinese feckin’ whispers.

“Yeah it’s not going to be easy”
“What did you say?”
“I said it’s not going to be easy – what did you think I said?”
“Oh nothing, don’t worry”

But the look on her face tells me she thinks I said something like:

“Your mother is an in-bred 3 armed monkey lady”
“What did you say?”
“I said it’s not going to be easy – what did you think I said?”
“Oh nothing, don’t worry”

There’s also occasion when I use a slang word or something and I might as well be speaking Spanish. Or this morning I was joking about and said something was a pound but I instead put on my best mockney Eastenders audition voice and said it was a “paaaaand!” “What?” Sigh, christ on a bike… “Pound” – “What?” “POUND!” I now adopt my best Margo Leadbetter tone and say “pound, I said pound but I was doing my mockney accen…oh never mind. It’s a p-o-u-n-d” “What?” Kirstie jumps in with “a pound” – “Oh right, why didn’t you say so?”

You see? You see what I am dealing with here.

Temp also has a lot of Americanisms in he vocab, I’m not sure if this is a normal thing for young Aussies to have or if she’s just watched too much of The OC growing up but one word which is a particular fave of hers is ‘sweet’. As in everything is good – it’s sweet. “Ah, sweet!” There’s also some head bobbing that goes along with it all, reminds me a bit of Bill and Ted but she probably doesn’t remember who they are.

Anyway. Yesterday I was ranting about this and there evolved some possible game playing to be had out of it all. A hat tip goes here to B (merci) who suggested said game and got us rolling on a list of comebacks. The idea is that every time the Temp says “sweet” I or Kirstie retort with another word that follows it up, for example ‘shop’ – sweet…shop, geddit? And so‘Temp Bingo’ is born and soon there will be cards made up and blotter pens handed out. Genius. Great way to pass the afternoon and possibly a way of shutting Temp up. I suppose eventually she’d cotton on to what we were doing and the game would be over but it’d be worth it in the long run.

Here’s the list so far:

“Sweet….”

Shop
Home
Sixteen
and low
Baby Jesus
Ass
Cheeks
Child of mine
FA
Peas
Mary & Joseph
Potato
Pickle
Tea
Thing
Transvestite
Talk
Dreams
Bread

I’m gagging to use ‘Transvestite’, ‘Child of Mine’ and “Mary & Joseph” I think it would play out really well.

“Temp you can head home for the day if you want to”
“Really? Ah sweet!”
“…Child of Mine”
“Say what?”
“Eh? Oh nothing don’t worry, you head off now. Oh and we’re going to the pub tomorrow lunch if you want to come?”
“Yeah sure, that’d be sweet”
“…Transvestite”
“What did you just say?”
“I said your mother is an in-bred 3 armed monkey lady”
“Oh right, yeah you too! Bye!”

If we ever get the opportunity to play Temp Bingo I’ll let you know how it all goes. And how loud I shout BINGO!