Gone Packin'

And...we're back. Oh, I wasn't gone. New Blogger was gone. Magnificent New Blogger, which everybody was strong-armed into switching to, and promised that New Blogger would not be unavailable. I wish New Alex was gone. You know, that creepy Son of Sam on ER. Oh, that's right. New Alex IS gone. Sam banished him to a residential home for burning up the old man upstairs after dropping a match into a glass of spilled wine. Darn those young'uns, always spilling the wine! And burning up old men. I wish Sam had sent him to treatment at a facility for Kids With A Stick Up The A$$ Who Can't Act Themselves Out Of A Wet Paper Bag. That Sam! She could have just sent him to live with his dad, except that Dad was in prison quite a while, and though the other inmates might have welcomed Wooden New Alex with OH SO OPEN arms, the Department of Corrections probably frowns on that sort of thing, what with the place already being overcrowded, although I'm sure somebody would have offered to share a bunk with young Wooden New Alex. Oh, and even after Dad got out of jail, that little plan would not have worked because, well, Sam SHOT her Wooden Boy Daddy, and killed him dead, dead, dead. And I watched.

I will soon be gone. Gone from Basementia. Next year I have a new assignment, which is really my old assignment, from when I first started working at this place. But that is neither here nor there tonight, because it is only used as emphasis for what I am going to complain about next. Thank the Gummi Mary that people piss me off. I never run out of material.

Yesterday, I was a bit peeved. Seems two people asked me to cart some stuff over to Basementia. I have always been used as a mule between buildings. That doesn't mean I like it. I do it because it is the polite thing to do when people shove paperwork in your face and 'ask', "Canyoutakethistotheotherbuildingformethanks" and run out the door faster than doorstops disappear in not-Basementia. It wasn't such a problem when it was only paper, and I had my plan time to travel. The worst part of it was remembering to take it out of my bag and deliver it to the right person. Sometimes I had to take lunch money, before we went to the card system. Hey! I know these teacher kids. I would not want my own child to go without lunch, so I took them the money.

Every now and then, someone would try to take advantage. "Take this work to ISS. I didn't have time to get it in yesterday. And take this book, he doesn't have a book, he will need a book." That's where I had to draw the line. I would take a book ONE time. That was it. I have my own stuff to carry. I am not the one being punished. Take a zero, kid, or write reports out of the encyclopedia. I am not here to make your days in ISS easier. Why must teachers bend over backwards to get all the supplies to kids who broke the rules?

Earlier this week, someone sent down a bag of books. I didn't know it was books, but it was heavy enough to be books or a laptop. It had a note saying, 'My Supervisor wants you to take this bag to Teacher 2 at the other building.' Hmm...I sent my son to ask Supervisor if that was true. Yes. So I did it. As a favor to Supervisor. Yesterday, Teacher 2 waltzed past me while I was doing duty in the hallway, deposited the black bag in my room, and said, "You'resupposedtotakethisbacknow." Knowing how hefty it was, and still with all my own stuff to carry, and only 4 minutes to get from this doorway, drive across town, find a parking spot, and get to my classroom in Lower Basementia, I sent a note to Teacher 2 after the dust had cleared from the speedy exit. 'Are the books needed right now? We have that district-wide meeting here after school, and they can be picked up then.' Nope, I was told. "Supervisor needs those books today to score a test." So I carted them over. But I was running late, surprise, surprise, and left them in the car until I could send my personal pack mule, #1 son, to bring them in. Ahem. After some questioning, I discovered that Supervisor was not even at school, but at a meeting from 8:00 to 4:00. Teacher 2 had better not pee on my leg again any time soon.

Oh, and the second thing I was supposed to deliver at the same time was a set of completed tests. I can't blame the receiver on this one, and they were not heavy, but it was just something extra to deal with in the midst of driving, parking, remembering which lesson I would be teaching for this class, the fourth of my six preps, and getting the tests sent upstairs. The little messenger came back and said, "Well, I left them with the sub." DUH! I rushed those things over for a teacher who was not even there. Though it was not her fault that her presence was requested elsewhere at the last minute. That's just the way things go in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's life. Try to do people favors, and it bites her in her ample butt. So Mrs. Hillbilly Mom declared, "I am DONE with it! I am not hauling anything else back and forth for these people. Seven years of it is more than enough. I have 9 days left of this job, and I am not carting things across town any more!"

I told a couple of cronies, and figured that word would get around. This morning, a not-Basementia teacher stopped by my room between classes. She said, "Can you take a chair to the other building for me?" I laughed out loud. Now that was a good one! A chair! Bwahaha! She must have heard of my chagrin at the Pony Express sign that had apparently been taped to my back for the last seven years. What a good joke. "Of course I'll take a chair to the other building for you! Ha, ha! I'll strap it on my back!"

She looked at me with her head tilted, like Tank the Beagle looks at #1 son when he farts. And then I understood. SHE ACTUALLY EXPECTED ME TO CARRY A FREAKIN' CHAIR TO THE OTHER BUILDING!!! And I had said that I would do it! How do I get myself into these situations? It was such a perfect Karma Moment that I was more amused than pissed off. So I took the chair to Basementia. But I made some adjustments to my technique. I did not carry the chair. One of her students carried it to my LSUV. It was for her son for field day. When #1 son went out with the keys to bring in Dead Lappy for the tech guy to take a look at (he ROCKS!), I sent Sonny with him to carry in his own chair.

It was the least I could do.