Having failed spectacularly to keep up my devotional ditherings, I thought I would give up any attempt at piety and do what I do best…be me! Now, being me involves being daft on a number of occasions, sometimes even intentionally. This gives me plenty of raw material. Why should my husband be the only one to have a regular laugh at my expense? (Is it really at my expense when I deliberately store up the silly, brainless things I do simply to tell him and raise a smile…?) Anyway, here goes with the first tale to hopefully bring a smile to your face.
The tale of the missing car…
My job, of Tenancy Support, involves travelling to different houses in order to visit tenants in their own homes. Not particularly difficult, eh? Now think again, factoring in a daft Dith with a terrible sense of direction plus housing estates with blocks of flats that look deceptively similar and are connected in ways which would make a rabbit proud. Beginning to get the picture?
Okay, so I park my green Hyundai Accent and set off in the vague direction of my client’s flat. After much meandering, I find the flat and do my job. I exit flat about one hour later and head back in direction of car…or so I thought. No car where I thought I had left it, but nothing looks familiar at all, not even the location. I think to myself "Have I lost it or has it been stolen?" Imagined phone call to police:
"Hello officer, I cannot find my car."
"Where did you leave it, madam?"
"Umm, somewhere in Greenmeadow"
"Can you be more precise?"
"Err, sorry, no."
"So, what time do you think it was stolen?"
"Well, I’m not sure if it actually HAS been stolen…"
"I only said I couldn’t find it. I may have just, umm, misplaced it."
(With exaggerated patience) "Misplaced it, madam?"
"I think I’ll just keep looking, officer."
(Relieved) "Yes, madam, you do that."
Not being able to face a scenario of this kind I carried on looking anyway and did not call the police. After a long, fruitless search I did eventually make a phone call…to my husband. This was a tearful affair which helped in some way, but did nothing to help me find the missing car.
Now, in my job, I need to sign out and give an approximate return time, in case a tenant turns nasty and decides to make their kind, helpful Support Worker into meat pies, or something. Pasties, perhaps? Sorry, digression. Anyway, my approx return time was approaching so I decided to call the office and admit my folly. Cue slightly hysterical call to boss, laughing in order not to cry. She said that they would despatch a rescue team forthwith. After ringing off, I began to make my way towards an area where the rescuers could find me.
And found the car.
There followed some embarrassed, yet relieved, calls. One to my husband to put his mind at rest, the other to the office to let them know I would be making my way back in my now rediscovered car. This took me around half an hour, plenty of time for my friendly office-mates to construct a poster roundly mocking me for the fiasco, and leaving it in full view for when I entered the office. Well, it would have been in full view if I was any good at noticing things. it took a little while before I realised it was there. Well, that’s only to be expected, really.