what you missed hearing about on Monday

I arrived at work yesterday morning slightly late, because when I looked at my basket of twigs left over from the previous lecture I decided that they were too wilted and shabby to take to Billericay, and had to cut some new ones.  The gardeners were waiting for me in the staff room as I walked across the car park, and we went up to the office together.  The door was locked.  The gardeners said that the manager had the day off for half term, and would not be coming in, which left us unable to get into the office, since none of us have a key.  We went and searched the possible cunning hiding places in the staff room, like inside the microwave oven and the cutlery drawer, in case anybody had left us a key, and found one, that turned out not to fit the office door.  The older gardener drove around to the owner's mother's house to borrow her key, and twenty minutes after arriving at work we finally managed to get in.

The phone went.  It may have been going for the previous twenty minutes, but we couldn't get to it before.  It was my colleague's mother to say that she was still unwell.  This meant that the plant centre staff were reduced to two, me and the woman who normally works on the other side, who doesn't do telephones.

Then the older gardener said that he couldn't find the van.  All of the cars and the horsebox had gone as well, but we presumed that the owners were taking part in some sort of social event requiring transport, rather than that they had just gone out early for the day and then the van thieves had struck.  However, the gardener needed the van, because he was due to deliver a large pot to a customer's house at ten, where someone would be waiting to help unload it.  I rang the owner who normally deals with staffing issues and got her mobile messaging service, so rang the boss who is the plant supremo and got him.  He said that they had the van and it was full of stuff, but we could have it after lunch.  I explained about the large pot and the person waiting to help unload, and he said 'Let me think.  Think.  Think' and told me to call the gamekeeper and ask him to deliver it in his trailer.  The gardener and I had just managed to find the gamekeeper's number in the directory on the boss's telephone when the phone rang, and it was the boss saying he had spoken to the gamekeeper, who would be with us in one minute.

The gamekeeper arrived in his open top Land Rover, which was filled with bags of wheat for the pheasants.  He and the gardeners took most of the bags out, and lifted the pot in, and off it went, wedged in place with bags of pheasant food.  The customer was so happy with the delivery, she sent an e-mail in the afternoon thanking us, so that was all right.

This left me with forty minutes before the nine-thirty deadline for booking in my jukebox parcel with the delivery company, so I rang them up, told them where I worked and explained that I needed a parcel collected, if it wasn’t already booked in.  They said no, it wasn’t already booked, and I explained that I didn’t know how to book a parcel and was working off a sheet of printed instructions.  The chap at the parcel company was very nice about this, and said the best thing would be for me to fax them the details of where it was going.  I had to confess that I didn’t know how to work the fax machine, and read him the details over the phone.  He seemed to think that would be fine.

The woman who works on the other side had discovered the bad news from the gardeners, that she would be working in the plant centre, and came and helped with the watering, and the woman who works in the office helped with the telephones, and we managed.  The talk in Billericay was fine.  Actually they were a nice group, and it was good fun, but in any event standing up and lecturing a room full of strangers for an hour, equipped with a trug of twigs and a digital slide projector (minus any technical support) is positively low stress, compared to being a shop assistant in a small retail business.  No contest.