A good metaphor

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“I’m just calling because I left you a message on the weekend and you haven’t got back to me and you haven’t updated your blog and I thought perhaps you might have a broken leg or something,” said my mother.

My legs are intact, but I have been rather busy this week, due to some particularly demanding and long-winded clients who have become somewhat personally attached to me judging by the number of emails and telephone calls I receive from them every day. Not to mention the messages to call them that I receive after managing to successfully dodge their phone calls.

I had to spend over two hours in a meeting with them yesterday while they talked at a barrister, being terribly vague and taking about a minute to get a simple sentence out due to the number of “ums” and “wait a minutes” and “let’s think about this for a moments” that they dot their speech with. I spent most of that time nodding seriously and thoughtfully (a skill lawyers must perfect) while visualising hitting them over the heads with a large heavy object. It was thoroughly satisfying.

I’m a bit disenchanted with my job at the moment, can you tell?

The latest drama in the workplace today was the news that raw sewage was flowing into our basement storage rooms, covering boxes of client files and seeping into the walls, and no-one was permitted to visit the basement under any circumstances. I’m not certain why they felt we would want to visit the basement and wade through sewage, but I guess they thought they’d better warn us off such activities, just in case.

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