Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Achin’, Not Perturbed

The name is Mom. Hillbilly Mom. And in case you haven’t noticed, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom don’t get no respect.

She has devoted her life (okay, a portion of her born days, since she DOES have a lot of rings if you cut her open, [WARNING: Do Not Cut Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Open!] so let’s say she has devoted 28 of her years on this planet) to teaching. And 20 of those years have been in service to Newmentia. So one might assume that with such a dependable track record, Mrs. HM might have some perks accrued, other than the 97 sick days she currently has stockpiled, which will garner her $20 per day upon retirement. Which is at the end of May, in case you haven’t heard.

You know what happens when we assume.

It’s not like Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is expecting a gold watch, or a trip to Tahiti. No. She expects that after sitting at the same seat at the same table in the same library for each monthly faculty meeting, (which would tally up to around 200, minus the Dec-May meetings which haven’t happened yet, and minus the one where Jewels usurped Mrs. HM’s throne, leaving us with 193 times Mrs. HM’s seat has been occupied by her…um…well…seat) that her seat might remain open until she finishes her parking lot duty and can join that meeting in progress.

It all started with an item on the agenda at the Semi Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank. “Faculty meeting after school. It will be short. Maybe five minutes.”

“Oh. You know I have duty on Mondays. So I’ll be a little late.”

“You’ll probably miss it.” The Man in Charge seemed certain.

“WHAT? I might miss something important!”

“Look at her. Almost retired, but she doesn’t want to miss a single meeting.” Lady Specialty knows the date!

“I’ll be out of the loop!”

“We’ll take notes for you.”

So…on Monday afternoon, I came in from my duty, to the meeting which I had been told would only last five minutes, and that I would probably miss it…to find that the meeting had not started at all. AND ARCH NEMESIS WAS SITTING IN MY SEAT!

Boy howdy! Ain’t THAT a fine how-do-you-do!

“We know how much you didn’t want to miss this meeting. So we cared enough to wait until you got here to start.” Lady Specialty, still messin’ with me.

“Obviously you didn’t care enough to SAVE MY SEAT! The seat I have sat in every single meeting except one.”

Arch looked surprise. I don’t know why. Because she NEVER sits at my table. She has her own group. I would never sit at their table. That’s just how things are. Arch made a big production of getting up and moving to her table. All she had to do was pull a rolly chair over.

But the big question is why nobody was looking out for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom! There were Mabel’s Replacement’s keys marking the spot right next to my place, saved for Sweet Alabama Beige, who had duty out front. But no saving for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom! What’s up with that? Does she not arrive 30 minutes early for the back-to-school faculty breakfast, to save seats for Sweet Alabama Beige and Mabel’s Replacement? It’s not like MR is a newbie. She has been here for years, in another capacity before she became Mabel’s Replacement. And I always save a seat for her. But no Hillbilly Mom love was flowin’ on Monday afternoon.

“Oh. Now I feel bad. I thought everyone would know that was your seat.”

“But you saved one for Sweet Alabama Beige!”

“Yeah. I was afraid somebody would take her seat. I am so sorry. And every year, I come to the cafeteria late, and look for you to motion me over to the table where you’ve saved us seats for breakfast. I’m going to feel really bad in August…but you won’t be there to save me a seat!”

“No. You’ll have to get there 30 minutes early yourself, I guess.”

“Well. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking.”

Yeah. Nobody thinks about Mrs. Hillbilly Mom’s feelings. I’m not even mad. I’m just sad. Always the giver, never the receiver.

Please play a selection on the world’s smallest violin for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.


Sioux said...

If you cry too many tears of self pity, you'll become dehydrated... and you'll have to call in sick. (1 down. 96 more to go.)

Hillbilly Mom said...

96 days to be sick left this year,
96 days to be sick,
Take one down, pass it around,
95 days to be sick left this year!