From Tuesday to Friday last week I did temp work at a pretty interesting company. I really enjoyed it – the company treats its employees VERY well. I had a little trouble finding the company, which had two entrances to their building. I entered one entrance, hoping I’d picked the right one.
Me: Hi, I’m Jeb. I’m helping out here for the week.
Receptionist: Oh, are you on work experience from a high school?
Me: Er, no. I’m from a temp agency.
Receptionist: Um… hmm. (looks through papers on desk) I didn’t know we’d ordered a temp.
Me: This is (name of software company), isn’t it?
Receptionist: Yes…
Me: Oh. Well, I’m not sure then.
Receptionist: Are you sure you were supposed to look after children for the week? That’s what they told you?
Me: What? No, I’m helping out with marketing or something.
Receptionist: Oh, that explains it then! This is the company daycare centre. You need to go into the other building’s reception.
Me: Ahhhhh.
So I wandered into the ‘proper’ reception, to find two reception women who reminded me of the reception girls from my first job, at a university in Melbourne. They were talking with some other guy who I guess worked at the company:
Reception woman #1: We’ve come to a decision.
Employee: What’s that?
Reception woman #2: We’re going to change our titles from Receptionists to something else.
Employee: Oh dear. This is happening an awful lot nowadays. I mean, look at flight attendants on planes. One minute they’re called flight attendants, the next minute they want to be called stewardesses, cabin managers, trolley dollies and I don’t know what else.
Reception woman #1: Well, this isn’t quite that drastic.
Employee: So you want to change your titles from Receptionists to… what?
Reception woman #2: Organisation First Impression Directors.
I explained to the receptionists that I was helping out with marketing for the week, and she asked me to sit down while she got the marketing manager. A few minutes later, a girl with a British accent arrived – she too was from the temp agency and was working for the week, just like I was. I thought I’d introduce myself and tried to make polite small talk but I couldn’t figure out if she was tired or if I geniunely annoyed her. Her name was Nadene. Over the past week I guess we had a bit of a love-hate relationship – we’d pick on each other, but… actually, the hate part was probably more evident than the love part.
The receptionist eventually took us up to the marketing area and plonked us in a pentagon shaped room. (There was a reason it’s a pentagon shape – more on that later). There were 3 other temp people in the pentagon room who were helping out that week. I realised that everyone was a backpacker except me. Nadene and another girl were from the UK, there was a girl from New Zealand and a snooty albino guy from the US who seemed to think he was above us all.
We all had to sign contracts for the week and Nadene got all catty when she noticed that someone had spelt her name Nadine. This, apparently, was a major issue.
Around five minutes later I got to meet Mr Marketing. Mr Marketing was easily the best supervisor I’ve had in any of my jobs. This guy was just a real funny bloke, a total nice guy and a bit of a cheeky bugger. A bit of a westie/bogan but really funny. I don’t think any of the other temps liked him (especially Nadene, but it’s not hard to make her hate someone) but I immediately got on with him real well – he even follows the AFL! (Hardly anyone does here in Sydney). We had a bit of a talk about the Sydney Swans, then Mr Marketing started doing this strange thing in his chair, spinning around in it like a little aggressive tornado, so I left him alone and started the work I’d been set.
Later that morning Mr Marketing was trying to open a locked filing cabinet without a key, which provided interesting entertainment for us all. That was, until he aggressively swore ‘waste of bloody time, waste of bloody space’ at the filing cabinet, and started playing basketball with a basketball ring he’d nailed to the back of his office door. This was quite a neat touch.
Mr Marketing even encouraged us all to work slow! ‘You’ll want to work at a pace, so that we don’t have to send you home a day early’.
The other person who supervised us was Mr Marketing’s right hand man, Mr Marketing Jnr. Mr Marketing Jnr was a really funny guy too, and is 20 as well, just like me. Mr Marketing Jnr also has this great deadpan voice – I love funny people with deadpan voices. I’m not picking on the guy, I reckon it’s cool!
I also got another confusing security pass to get me in and out of the building, as well as to operate the elevator. It only took me three goes to get this one to work, though.
Basically all I was doing at this company was ringing up customers of the company and just updating their contact details, making sure they were correct. This was relatively easy, especially in such a fun and relaxed atmosphere as Mr Marketing’s office (every 10 minutes he’d walk over to me and we’d just crap on), but the first phone call I had was rather difficult.
Me: (dials number on phone)
Person on phone: Hello, (name of company), how can I help you?
Me: Oh, hi, it’s Jeb calling from (company). I’m just calling to make sure we have the correct c-
Electrical repairman: (starts drilling into wall 2 meters away from me)
Me: JUST MAKING SURE WE HAVE THE CORRECT CONTACT DETAILS FOR YOUR COMPANY.
Person on phone: (undecipherable)
Me: I MIGHT HAVE TO CALL YOU BACK. IT’S A BIT LOUD HERE.
Person on phone: (confused muttering, hangs up)
Besides that small difficulty, the only other problem I had was when I rang up one particular company and I had to listen to eight minutes of Kenny G music while they put me on hold.
Later that morning:
New Zealand backpacker: I have to ring someone in Dandenong. Which state is that in? I don’t know the area code.
Me: It’s in Victoria – the area code’s 03.
New Zealand backpacker: How’d you know that?
Me: I’m from Victoria, originally.
Marketing Mike: Oh my GOD. You poor bastard. Everyone laugh and point at the Victorian.
The New Zealand backpacker then rang the company in Dandenong, and I think the person she spoke to was quite rude, because when she hung up she called the person a ‘nobby bastard’. I like that insult, so I’m using it as much as possible at the moment.
That morning Mr Marketing Jnr was looking for some paper, because the printer had run out. He was going through all the cupboards, when he opened up one cupboard next to me and found a virtual stationary paradise.
Mr Marketing Jnr: My god, look at all this!
Me: Wow – clear gum glue!
Mr Marketing Jnr: Flourescent post-it’s!
Me: Staple removers!
Mr Marketing Jnr: Coloured paperclips!
Me: A big rubber mallet!
Mr Marketing Jnr: A BIG RUBBER MALLET!
We weren’t sure what to do with the big rubber mallet, so I suggested that perhaps if someone got to work late, they got one rubber mallet thump for every minute they were late.
That afternoon Mr Marketing started playing more basketball, and started giving Mr Marketing Jnr crap. (Mr Marketing gives everyone crap, so this is okay).
Mr Marketing: So. What are you doing?
Mr Marketing Jnr: Well, I was trying to work here.
Mr Marketing: Well, you can work all you want, but you’ll never get promoted.
Mr Marketing Jnr: And why is that?
Mr Marketing: You’re stuck. You’re never going to progress. You’re just stuck in this position for ages.
Mr Marketing Jnr: Oh, whatever.
Mr Marketing: There’s a word for that, but I’m not sure what it is. But it’s what you are.
Me: It’s called being stuck in purgatory – the place you wait, paying for your sins before your soul can move on.
Mr Marketing: That’s it! You’re going to be stuck in purgatory.
Mr Marketing Jnr: Oh, I don’t care. Maybe I’m happy here.
Mr Marketing: Hah! Don’t pretend you want to be in your position forever.
Mr Marketing Jnr: I’m quite happy here actually. I work efficiently and play basketball all afternoon.
Me: Ah, but there’s no basketball in purgatory.
This is true.
Mr Marketing told me that afternoon (in one of our many talk-about-nothing conversations) he used to work at a Grace Bros department store as a teenager. Apparently one of the old women who worked there was really mean to him and picked on him a lot. He found out just a month or so ago that this old woman now works at the Bondi Junction Grace Bros store, at the candy department. So Marketing Mike made a special trip out to Bondi Junction to the Grace Bros candy store and started buying Jelly Belly jelly beans – he asked for one of each flavour of jelly bean. (If you’re not familiar with Jelly Belly, well there’s a few hundred flavours I think). After she’d gotten one of each flavour, he asked for another one of each. And again. And again – until he had $40 of Jelly Belly jelly beans. Said Mike, ‘I won on that occasion. See, that’s what life is all about. Winning. You have to win everything’. As you can see, he has a real marketing attitude.
Speaking of lollies, I bought a pack of Mentos that day and offered one to Mr Marketing Jnr.
Mr Marketing Jnr: Ooh, Mentos! I can beat people up when I eat these.
I have NO idea what he was talking about.
*****
On Tuesday night after work, myself, Adam, MJ, Wendo and a few others went along to see the UK comedian Eddie Izzard perform. Adam and I had a bit of time to waste beforehand, so we just walked up and down Newtown for a while. We walked past one cafe where absolutely everyone in there was writing furiously on bits of paper. Adam commented it was like that bookstore-and-cafe-all-in-one we saw the other week, except this was a Writing Cafe rather than a Reading Cafe.
Eddie Izzard was great, I can see why he’s so popular in the UK. In fact, it seemed like the audience WAS the UK – a large contingent of attendees were UK backpackers. Personal favourite moments of Eddie’s routine included ‘The Stoned Olympics’ and ‘Darth Vader Goes To The Death Star Canteen’.
Speaking of the Olympics, there’s still months to go until they start and I’m already over them. By now, the Olympic Rings are starting to look like the Olympic Nooses to most Sydneysiders.
*****
When I went to work on Wednesday, I bought the newspaper at the train station – something I don’t normally do. I think I may need more practice at this, because I picked up two newspapers by mistake and got away with it. Sure, you can gloat over it for a little while, but you soon realise how useless a second newspaper is. Have you tried offering a newspaper to someone on the train? They always politely decline it, as if it’s diseased or something.
Because I was so tired from the previous night seeing Eddie Izzard (we didn’t get to bed until quite late), I was forced to break the Coke Barrier rule. The Coke Barrier decrees that you’re not allowed to drink Coke before 10.30am (this used to be 11am, but I always used to start craving it by 10.30). I had a liquid Coca Cola breakfast that morning. Well, it woke me up! Surely I’m allowed to break the Coke Barrier once a year?
I’ll tell you something that pissed me off all of last week – a restaurant in Sydney called Edna’s Table. The restaurant was across the road from my bus stop in the city, and at around 8.15 each morning this guy would walk out the front of the restaraunt and create a small lake on the pavement of Clarence Street. See, there’s a couple of trees outside the restaurant so leaves fall on the pavement during the night. I can understand they want the restaurant to look clean, so why not get a broom and sweep the leaves away? No, that would be too easy.
The proprietors of Edna’s Table see it fit to grab a high-powered hose every morning and spray the minimal amount of leaves away with hundreds of litres of water. It’s so painful to watch, there’s so much water being wasted and the dumb thing is, a broom would be MORE effective. The guy will just stand there for minutes with his hose pointed at the one leaf, pinned to the pavement by the torrents of water, until it moves into the gutter.
Then he starts hosing down the GUTTER of all things! Now come on, I don’t think this would happen:
Upperclass git #1: Oh, look, what a delightful eatery. Let’s eat here, Madge.
Upperclass git #2: Oh my LORD! There’s leaves in the gutter.
Upperclass git #1: How distasteful! Let’s hurry along. Quick!
I just couldn’t believe how stupid the people who own this joint are. If you want to witness it for yourself hang around the other side of the road at the bus stop area at 8.15am, it’s at 204 Clarence Street in the city. I should write and complain or something – not because they’re wasting water, but because it’s so painfully obvious a broom could do a job in five minutes that would normally take 300 litres of water twenty minutes. However, it is kind of fun to watch pedestrians try to avoid the small flood that is Edna’s Table at 8.15am.
*****
So I eventually got to work and scoffed down some free breakfast. Workplaces that provide free breakfast are good in my opinion, but they can be bad. Put it this way – I don’t think I can look a croissant in the face at the moment without feeling a little barfy. (They get little bits caught in your throat too, so you wheeze all day).
As I walked into the Pentagon Room that morning, I discovered Mr Marketing trying to ‘fix’ the printer.
Mr Marketing: What’s it saying now? ‘Manually feed A4 paper’? I’ll give you fucking A4 paper!
I spent almost all of my day mucking around with Mr Marketing and Mr Marketing Jnr. The other temps were getting really pissed off by this stage because I hardly did any work and got away with it, and it didn’t help that most of them didn’t like Mr Marketing either. By lunchtime, Nadene looked like she would rather have a disease than talk to me.
Mr Marketing was designing a database for the company that day.
Mr Marketing: Hmm, what colour should I make this next database?
Mr Marketing Jnr and Mr Marketing: Hmmmmmmmm.
Me: Cobalt!
Mr Marketing Jnr: COBALT!
Mr Marketing: COBALT! Cobalt it is.
Mr Marketing Jnr: (pumps fist in air and makes a noise with his mouth that sounds like a crowd cheering ‘Cobaaaalt’)
I overheard some other staff members talking about sponsorship deals. Apparently the company is trying to make itself known to the public by sponsoring things.
Me: I reckon you should just sponsor a footy team or something. Everyone’d see them then.
Mr Marketing: Actually, I suggested that, but they didn’t like it.
Me: Why’s that?
Mr Marketing: Well, they reckon it’s too risky, that footy players play up and stuff. Bad for our image.
Me: Well, you sort of expect that don’t you? It’s part of the package.
Mr Marketing: Exactly. If you sponsor football players you get antics, something interesting. If you want something boring just go and sponsor the bloody ballet or something.
Me: I suppose so.
Mr Marketing: Then again, those ballerinas do look pretty nice in those tutus. (walks out door)
Nadene: (picks up basketball and throws it at the space where Mr Marketing’s head was just a few seconds ago)
For some reason, I strongly associate the name ‘Nadene’ with chicken soup. I have no idea why this is so. Is there some sort of chicken soup brand called Nadene or Nadine? I’ve got no idea – all I know is that I hear the name ‘Nadene’ and I think ‘chicken soup!’
I ate lunch at KFC that day. Do you know what annoys me? When someone at a fast food store asks me if it’ll be Eat In or Take Away, and you say Eat In – then turn around with your tray full of food to discover there’s not a spare seat in the place. The staff should LOOK and see there’s no seats! There’s nothing worse than wandering around with a bright red tray while your food goes cold, and you wait for other people to finish scoffing chicken.
I’ve learnt over time it’s really bad to go to fast food stores when you’re really hungry, because you over-purchase. Any offer of upsizing your meal is heartily agreed to. You basically buy far more than you can possibly eat.
The worst case of Fast Food Over-Purchasing I’ve ever seen was this guy I knew at uni, Caleb. He was stoned most of the time which probably didn’t help, but me and my flatmate used to drive him to McDonalds. Me and my flatmate would get something like a McValue Snack, whereas Caleb would take advantage of the ‘Family Meal’ offer that was on at the time – 2 cheeseburgers, 2 Big Macs, 4 fries, 4 Cokes. We’d end up eating most of it because he’d eat the hamburgers, sip half of a drink and be finished.
I’ve also noticed, no matter how hard I try, I can’t smile at fast food staff when they serve me. It’s impossible! Try it and you’ll see what I mean!
When I was at KFC on this particular occasion, this old Scottish guy placed an order.
KFC girl in fashionable green-and-pink uniform: Hello, can I take your order?
Scottish guy: Ah’ll have a potato and GRAVEH.
KFC girl in fashionable green-and-pink uniform: What else would you like?
Scottish guy: Ah don’t WANT anything ehlse!
KFC girl in fashionable green-and-pink uniform: Um… okay… that’s $2.20.
Scottish guy: AHLL AH WAHNT IS MAH POTATO AND GRAVEH!
As I walked back to work, three cars tooted me. I got all paranoid that maybe my pants had ripped again.
After lunch, I experienced the strange air conditioning of the toilets at the company. You have to go down a corridor to reach the toilets, and I honestly believe all the airconditioners in the whole building were housed on the roof of this corridor. You only got the privilege of using the toilets if you could battle past the gale force winds to reach them.
I thought it was really cool that each toilet cubicle had the daily paper in it, on a little shelf on the back of the door! I’m sure this is entirely unhygenic, but who’s complaining with convenience like this!! (Although admittedly, the copy of the Sydney Morning Herald I saw looked like it had ‘water damage’, so I stayed away from it).
The hand drier was so hot it almost evaporated my hands, and I had to run back out to the gale force corridor to cool them down.
I have to say, Mr Marketing and Mr Marketing Jnr are the first two normal kind of guys I’ve met who hold marketing jobs. Normally in my experience, marketing managers can be a bit… well, full on. Or full of themselves, rather.
The worst marketing person I’ve ever come across was the marketing manager of TT-FM, a radio station in Melbourne. I’ve no idea if he works there still, he used to ring me up all the time when I had my job doing admin at a uni last year. He had a typical marketing type name like Mannie or something.
Me: Hello, my name is Jeb, welcome to (name of uni), how can I help you?
Mannie: (sleaze-o-rama) Jeeeeeeeeeeeb maaaaaaate. How was your weeeeeekeeeeeend?
Me: Oh Christ, not you again. And it’s Thursday, the weekend was ages ago. Well, I suppose you want to talk to our marketing manager?
Mannie: (completely ignoring what I’ve said, most likely reading from a script) Gooood to heaaaar buddyyyyy. I’m juuuust ringing uuuup to seeee if you’d be iiiinterested in this eeeexclusive deaaaal I’ve got orrrrrganised for youuuuu.
Me: How many times do I have to tell you? Every time you ring up you try to talk to me about marketing! I’ve got no idea about marketing! I always ask you if you want to speak to our marketing manager and you just crap on about marketing stuff I have nothing to do with!!
(long pause)
Mannie: So how was your weeeekeeeend?
By Wednesday afternoon I was starting to get a few sniffles, which turned out to be the start of my big cold I had on the weekend. Whenever I came back from the toilet and started sniffing, Nadene would mutter something about cocaine under her breath. Surely she wasn’t serious.
Highlights of Wednesday afternoon included the opportunity for me to call a business and say ‘Hello, can I speak to Mr Kok please?’ This, however, was eclipsed by the New Zealand backpacker, who got to ask for a Mr Tosser.
The snooty albino guy didn’t turn up to work on Wednesday. Neither did some other girl who none of us had ever seen – apparently there was another temp who was supposed to be working with us, but she’d never appeared. She’d rung in for the past two days with vague excuses, then her parents rang up Mr Marketing to ask where she was because she hadn’t been home for a few days. Mr Marketing Jnr decided that they didn’t need as many temps as they first thought, so they left messages on the voicemail of the snooty albino guy and the invisible girl telling them not to come in anymore.
*****
In the early hours of Thursday, I was rolling around in bed trying to get comfortable, so I started fluffing up the pillow. Then I realised I was actually fluffing up Adam’s face, and from the noises he was making I gather he wasn’t enjoying it.
On the way to work on Thursday I noticed this building in North Sydney that has a giant sign on the top saying ‘Tower’. This makes me want to write ‘Jeb’ on my forehead. (Oh, alright, it’s the building for Tower Life Insurance, but I didn’t find that out until recently).
When I arrived at work, I noticed that the snooty albino man had decided to turn up to work – when he had been told not to! I asked him if he got the phone message:
Me: Didn’t you know you weren’t supposed to come in today?
Snooty albino man: Oh, well, you know, I just… (lies through teeth) turned on my phone when I arrived here and got the message. So now I’m here, I may as well work! (gives me evil smile)
Mr Marketing had a lunchtime meeting, but he had a plan to help him through the tedium of boardroom decision making. He snuck in a tiny handheld colour TV and watched Jerry Springer. Apparently he bought the TV for this very purpose.
When I rang up one client on Thursday:
Me: Oh, hi, it’s Jeb calling from ( company). I’m just calling to make sure we have the correct contact details for your IT Director, Steve.
Receptionist: Oh, sorry, Steve’s not here. He’s got dihorrea! Can I take a message?
Also that day, Nadene continued to hassle me…
Me: (walks into pentagon room with can of Coke)
Nadene: Oh, so where’s my can of Coke, eh?
Me: (points out door) It’s in the Coke machine.
That night I got home, and the Very Strange Thing happened.
It was quite weird and a bit scary to be honest. This kind of thing has never happened to me before. I just totally flipped out. I was sitting in front of my computer and for no apparent reason started shaking and getting immense amounts of anxiety. My heart was beating really fast and I couldn’t tell if I was about to scream or cry. I went into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich, and dropped the knife by mistake. When I did this I felt like crying and I’ve got no bloody idea why. I was just screwed up.
I felt so panicked I just had to go to bed, it was all I could do. I just went to sleep and was fine when I woke up. It was all very strange and I hope it doesn’t happen again. Unless I can make money out of it.
Cam (the complete bloody legend) mentioned in an email to me recently that he never has grown his hair long, because it takes him so long to get past the ‘gee, you look like a real dick’ stage. This is true – the looking-like-a-dick phase of growing your hair long can be quite embarassing. I think I might grow my hair long again, not sure at the moment. I’m kind of enjoying having shaved hair, you just get out of the shower and your hair’s done for the day! Instamatic haircuts are the way to go.
*****
We realised we were running out of money when we woke up on Friday and Adam had 2 minute noodles for breakfast. They actually smelled quite good for that time of day, surprisingly.
Friday of course was the day the ‘Iloveyou’ virus hit. It was interesting working in a software company on a day like this, to see how they handled it. Mr Marketing got hundreds of iloveyou emails from people all through the company. He even was stirring up some people who didn’t know about the virus yet:
Mr Marketing: Jason, what’s this crap you’re emailing me?
Jason: What?
Mr Marketing: Man, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, but you have to know that I’m not. Okay?
Jason: WHAT?!
Mr Marketing: You emailed me heaps of love letters last night.
Jason: WHAT?!?
Because of the way the virus screwed up the computers, I had to another employee’s password on Friday. It was very kind of the woman to let me do so, considering I was a temp who could hack into her account and stuff everything up (then again the virus did a pretty good job of that).
She only told Mr Marketing the password though, so every time I needed her password Mike had to type it in, and I did the Password Shuffle & Sniff Dance.
Whenever you need someone to type in their password on your computer, you do the Password Shuffle & Sniff Dance. You sniff, look around, shuffle from side to side just so that the password person knows you’re not looking.
So whenever I needed the password, I’d just say to Mr Marketing ‘I need the woman’s password again’. As the day went on, I asked him:
Me: Mr Marketing? I need to be a woman again.
Mr Marketing: Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.
Me: Don’t worry. It’s only my Saturday night identity.
I also found out on Friday that the entire office I worked in was shaped like a giant yin yang – it’s all to do with feng shui, apparently. This explained why all the offices were such strange shapes – especially the pentagon shaped one I worked in.
Nadene and myself had a ‘final showdown’ on Friday. We were arguing over all sorts of moral issues all through the day (for lack of anything better to do) and we eventually got around to the subject of gays.
Nadene: I think it’s disgusting, it’s not natural.
One rule I’ve always set myself, is that I won’t use the fact that I’m gay as a weapon in an argument. It’s just not right, just stupid shock tactics (if that). However, on this occasion I broke my rule.
Me: Well, I’ve known that I’m not natural for ages. Heh.
Nadene: What? You’re… you’re gay?
Me: Yes.
Nadene: Um….
Me: Heh. (folds arms)
Nadene: Well just know that I don’t agree with it. (walks off)
I never saw her again, and probably never will. I realised that using the fact that I’m gay as a weapon in an argument is actually quite fun!
*****
As Friday afternoon moved into Friday night, I walked through pouring rain (yes, the one day I decided not to bring an umbrella or a jacket) to catch a bus to meet Adam at his work. I waited in the lobby of the building, and he eventually emerged. One and a half hours later than expected.
We went out to the pub he works at for a few drinks – lots of his friends from his old work were there. I got to meet a lot of them and found out lots of interesting stories about Adam (hee hee hee…) I also encountered this strange guy known as ‘San Fran’ who said he was straight, but kept putting his hand on my inside thigh and asking me with an accent that could only have come from Gayland: ‘So what is such a cuuuuute face like Aaadam doing siiiiingle?’
Adam and I were house sitting on the weekend, so we decided to go to the apartment we were minding. It was close to Oxford Street and Adam wanted to go out and see the gay pubs and clubs. We definitely won’t be going back, they were so sleazy, and full of guys that were just a little too ‘gay’ for our liking. It was a really weird feeling when we got back home, because we had gotten drunk at the first pub, sobered up, then gotten drunk again, then sobered up again. It really makes you feel buggered.
On Saturday night Adam went off to his bouncing job and I went for a walk to get some dinner. When I got back to the apartment I was faced with a challenge that would have been more in place on a game show hosted by Larry Emdur. Getting inside the monolith apartment building was like some sort of lost game from Gladiators (well, you’d need beefy people running after you, and more bouncy foam, and… er…) It took a swipe card, then a pin number, then a key to get into the apartment. I had trouble with all three – especially the key. I thought I’d locked myself out for the night, until I realised I was just crap, and hadn’t been turning the key hard enough.
That night my cold developed horrendously, I could hardly breathe at all and was just wandering around spluttering. Adam arrived home with Bouncer Legs (that’s the condition you get when you walk around for ages – well, it’s called Sore Legs, but we choose to call it Bouncer Legs).
I asked Adam if he could be Nurse Adam (the answer was no, he would be Doctor Adam instead). Neither of us really knew what to do about my cold, the house we were in had Panadol and that was about it. Then Adam found some eucalyptus and remembered that if you put it in hot water, and put a towel over your head and breathe it in, it’s supposed to help.
So Adam put some eucalyptus in a bowl of water and a towel over it, and I stuck my head into the little towel-cave. I only lasted about three seconds before it felt like half my face had been ripped off. I rolled around coughing with my eyes watering like nothing else.
I’m not sure how much eycalyptus Adam put in the bowl, but it was a LOT. My eyes were sore for hours afterwards, and I could only put my head above the bowl for a few seconds at a time – this was without the towel, too.
I almost typed ‘bowel’ instead of ‘bowl’ then. Just thought I’d let you know.
*****
On Sunday we went out to grab a bite to eat for lunch. I had some pizza, but because of my cold I couldn’t really taste it, so it tasted like I was eating armpit. Well, what I imagine eating armpit to be like.
We also went to the icecream store Baskin Robbins 31 to get a milkshake each. Talk about misleading claims – they don’t even have 31 flavours of icecream, only 21! Bah.
As we were drinking our thickshakes:
Me: Hang on, I don’t think I should be drinking this.
Adam: Why?
Me: Aren’t you supposed to stay away from dairy food and drink when you have a cold?
Adam: Well, if you die from your cold tomrrow, at least you’ll have had a nice drink.
Me: That’s true.
Adam: That’s if you don’t get die from drinking the milkshake in the first place.