Mom met us at school this morning to get some of my leftovers. No need to let my stuff go to waste when Mom might enjoy it better than my dogs or chickens or wastebasket.
Here was her bounty:
~a quart container of potatoes/carrots/onions cooked with my roast
~a tiny sliver of roast (the Hillbilly family lurrrves 'em some MEAT)
~four two-packs of mini sausage biscuits that I didn't like, from the company with that giant sun man in the commercials
~a biscuit and a half
~a tall can of beer nuts (not that Mom drinks beer...she just loves those nuts)
~a bag of orange slices that are cherry instead of orange
~one National Enquirer
~one Globe
Yeah. She raked it in. I hope she stocked up on slaw, because she puts that on her sausage biscuits.
In other news, I walked into my classroom this morning to see that it had not been swept and the wastebasket was still full. Seriously. The basics of Custodianing 101 are: sweeping the floor, emptying the wastebasket. I know Cus has gone to the great beyond...aka Basementia, Upper and Lower. But does that mean that nobody is replacing Cus?
I dared broach the subject at the teacher lunch table today. How nothing had been done in my room. Sweet Gummi Mary! You'd think I sat down and regurgitated Jewels' stinky fish...kicked a plump puppy like a football...blew my nose on the homecoming queen's hoodie! They were on me like angry villagers with flaming torches and pitchforks.
"Cus isn't here anymore."
"People are filling in."
"They're doing the best they can."
"It's not going to look like when Cus was here."
Obviously, all these folks are at the other end of the hall. And have their room cleaned as normal by the morning custodian. I don't see how the fill-in not entering my room is "doing the best they can." No sirree, Bob!
Funny how Mr. Principal brought it up at the faculty meeting this afternoon. "Oh, if any of you have things in your room not getting done, let me know. I am getting four hours work out of substitutes for an eight-hour job. For example, I noticed that the wastebasket behind my desk wasn't emptied on Friday. Because the fill-in didn't know it was there. So if things are being missed, let me know."
"My room was untouched. Like it was hermetically sealed on Friday afternoon, and preserved in the same condition when I opened it this morning."
"Heh, heh. I like that. HERMETICALLY sealed." Those artsy types appreciate my wordplay.
Word must have gotten back to today's fill-in. Because she came in all cheerful around 3:30 and swept and dumped. That's all I need, really. I can do the rest. That's how it used to be.
I can't believe my entitled lunch companions raised their hackles and wished me to walk through the equivalent of a two-week New York City sanitation strike until a replacement is hired.
3 comments:
HM--I have no idea if I left a comment earlier or not, so here goes...
Teachers are tolerant folks. They put up with an everpresent coating of dust on the toilet paper holder. They put up with classroom rugs that get disgusting and never get steam-cleaned...until the summer, and then only when the local Cus is begged. They put up with windowsills covered with dead bugs--that apparently only THEY can see.
At least that's what I've heard...
Way to back up their co-worker! This slight will not be forgotten, but store as later ammo!
Sioux,
How'd you get those bugs to die? Every critter I find in my classroom that I assume is dead suddenly gets up and takes off. They must have some possum blood in 'em.
Kathy,
Yeah. I can't wait. I'm like an elephant, you know. According to Farmer H, I never forget.
Like that time I waited three years to get back at the colleague who fingered The Pony as "Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's little boy" when folks at the Christmas program asked who the little brat was who kept acting up. Yep. When her tweenager clogged the toilet at the wings restaurant, I told the waitress, "Oh, no. He's HER son." No way was I taking the rap, just because he sat across from me.
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