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Triumphant
After an apalling night's sleep, in which visions of policeman throwing Jon and I out on our arses danced a caberet in my head from 3.28am onwards, I arose with the conviction that right was on my side. Assuming that my message that I left for the semi-superior boss had been received, I made ready to action the plans that I had laid the previous evening to stake out the office of the glorified secretary until I had received satisfaction.
However, it was not to be the way I envisaged. I received a phone call from said boss at 7.40am asking me if I could deal with the matter after work, as a colleague who would have covered the class was ill.
Said I, "Of course, no dramas." Thought I, "Shit, piss, arse, toss, fuck, bollocks."
Luckily, I had prepared for such an eventuality, and decided to put Plan B into motion. I had organised all of our paperwork yesterday, and took it with me to work, along with the relevant phone numbers. As soon as the big hand touched the six, whilst the little hand was halfway between the eight and the nine, I was on the phone like a rat up a drainpipe. Of course, the glorified secretary wasn't available, having, as she later informed me, over 600 clients to victimise. Therefore, I left a message for her to call me urgently regarding a notice of termination, but expected no response. You can imagine my surprise when, no more than 15 minutes later, she returned my call.
Said I, "I'm calling to let you know that we have paid the rent, and have the receipts to prove it." Said she, "We haven't received a payment from you since 22 June," in an extremely superior tone of voice. Said I, "Oh yes you have, to account number XXXXXXXXXX from account number XXXXXXXXXX." Said she, "Oh yes, I see we have," in a deflated manner. Said I, "What does this mean?" Said she, "The termination notice is null and void," sounding extraordinarily disappointed.
Thought I, "Triumphant! Let the brass section of the non-existent cherubim and seraphim orchestra ring out the good news!!!"
"Right," said I, in an extremely firm tone of voice. "That being the case, you can get the owner to fix the washing machine. It's a health hazard. I'm sucking filthy water through a dirty pipe to get the spinner to empty out. I've called you three times over the past four weeks to get this repaired. This length of time is not acceptable."
"I'll call the owner," said she, submissively.
Thought I, "I've heard that one before." Said I, tartly, "Thank you very much. Good day to you," before hanging up.
However, my vitriol was not yet spent. I had the school secretary fax over the bank account statement showing the payments, with a note attached saying that if the washing machine was not repaired within the week, we would be taking further action. We bloody well will, too. I've had as much as I'm willing to stand from them. If it's not fixed by next Friday, Residential Tribunal, here we come.
All it would have taken was for this little jump-start of a moronic cow to make one single phone call, and this could have all been avoided. Of course, she's too busy trying to fuck up people's lives to be bothered with such politenesses. Therefore, she deserves what she gets. I have turned the other cheek too often ... no longer will I indulge in such behaviour, especially out of concern for someone who cannot be bothered to do her job.
The score is currently Kim and Jon - 1; Glorified Secretary - 0. I can't wait until it's two-love, because I am determined to rub her nose in the dirt. I've surprised myself - it seems I become quite the tigress when the state of our lives is thus threatened. I was unaware that I was possessed of such courageousness. Go me!
In other news, I can start shopping for my wedding dress tomorrow without a sense of impending doom hanging over my head. Wish me luck, because I feel like I'm going to need it!
