Monday, May 14, 2007

Even Karma Steven

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's reign as Even Steven continues. This morning, I received 6 chairs from the colleague who wanted me to deliver a chair to Basementia. She also included 6 desks. I'm rakin' it in, now that I'm going to be a real teacher again. At Basementia this afternoon, I gave away all my Communication Arts posters and reproducible books. I receiveth, and I giveth away, by cracky!

I need half a tank of gas. That is 20 gallons for my behemoth. I notice that gas prices have gone up again. I know, who woulda thunk that would happen, huh? On the way home, I told the #1 son, my permanent shotgun rider, "I need some gas before the tank gets too low, but I hate to pay $3.00 a gallon. I swear it went up since we passed this morning." When the boy picked up the mail at the end of the gravel road, he read the envelopes, "...Your Doctor's Office..." Hmm...they never send me anything. My mom called them today to schedule a blood-drawing in anticipation of my appointment next Monday. I wondered if that had anything to do with it. Which was stupid, of course, because everyone knows a doctor's office doesn't do anything that quickly. After I pulled into the garage, and while #1 was taunting the dogs, and #2 was unlocking the Mansion, I opened it, still sitting in the car. Sweet Gummi Mary!!! It was a refund check for $60 !!! I suppose I will stop for gas tomorrow.

The next instance is not so much an illustration of Even-Steven-ness, as it is of Karma Lite. Last week, the entire faculty was supposed to talk to this guy about something. OK, maybe I can be a little more specific. The guy was a rep who had something to do with that ducky AFLAC thingy. I know this, because there was an announcement later that day that included the secretary squawking the AFLAC acronym accidentally, which caused my class to quack with glee. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Which is quite easy, actually, seeing as how I'm so slow.

I knew we were all supposed to sign away our right to duckfeed, or some such thing. Every year, we have to sign a form, even if we don't partake of the ducky goodness. I've tried before to do it at the first building, when I had time to burn over there. And the reps there would look down their noses at me, shuffle some papers, and declare, "You are supposed to do it at the OTHER building." Well, excuuuse me. So sorry to take time away from your eating of the donuts and reading of the Wall Street Journal. This time, I knew I would have to do this at Basementia, and that the email memo had told us to 'make sure you see the AFLAC rep sometime this afternoon'. I had it covered. I hiked up from Lower Basementia on the last 15 minutes of my plan time, around 12:50. There sat Mr. Ducky, with a colleague across from him, writing on a form. There were two other types of colleagues sitting at a table that made an 'L' with the Duckmeister. I did not know if they sat here every day at this time, or if there were waiting in line. I walked over by Mr. Ducky, and asked, "What do I need to do?" By which I meant, did I need to sit down after the other two, and wait my turn, or would he slide my form over for me to review, thus killing two ducks with one stone. Because that's how they usually do it, people. All the other times before. There is no privacy among teaching comrades. We are all up in each other's business day after tedious day.

Nobody said a word. I can't blame the one reviewing her form. I wasn't exactly addressing her. But the Duckmeister or the Sitters could have spoken up. Even a "Wait your turn, b*tch, we were first!" would have sufficed. But noooo! I was a nonentity. So I took myself back to Lower Basementia, figuring I would go 7th hour, during my small class, and I would just take them along with me on an impromptu field trip, to get a drink and wait in the hall for me. It's not like we're talking a platoon here. I have two students left in that class. That way, nobody would be inconvenienced by having to watch my class while I AFLACed. I also knew that Mr. Ducky was supposed to be there until 3:00, and by cracky, to 3:00 he would be! I had tried to do him a favor. But he wasn't accepting favors, apparently. At 1:15, there came an announcement. "Any teacher who has not met with the AFLAC rep should do so now." I called the office on the panic button intercom thingy. "I've just started class. Is it OK if I go during 7th hour? I can take my class along, and nobody will have to cover for me." Which was just the kind of thing they like to hear, so big brownie point for me!

Heh, heh. I went upstairs around 2:20. The Duckmeister said, "Oh, you're my last one." Heh, heh. I'm sure he recognized me from 12:50. To add insult to injury, I didn't want anything he was selling. He had ruded himself into an hour wait, what with ignoring me earlier.

Ain't that gal Karma a b*tch?

2 comments:

Redneck. Diva. said...

Is that gal Karma related to Murphy? You know, that one with all the laws?

Hillbilly Mom said...

Diva,
I think they share a branch on the ol' family tree.