1. Register for a training a month and a half in advance. Four hours, in the afternoon, blocked off in your calendar. Schedule appointments around it.
2. Six days before the training, receive an email that says “please note training x will now be held on the day before the date listed in the training calendar.” Rearrange your life to suit.
3. On the Friday before the Monday that is to be the day of the training - “please note that the training will be from 8-12 and not 1-5 as noted in the training calendar. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.” Yell YOU ARE NOT SORRY ENOUGH at the screen. Delete email with a fist to the mouse.
4. Go to the (last mandatory) training. Roll your eyes. A lot. A six line memo could have sufficed.
5. Get to work after the training. Be assigned to a school meeting at a location more or less adjacent to your own home, where you had lunch about twenty minutes ago. Drive across town to the meeting with a notepad and a forced smile.
6. Sit in office for twenty minutes before someone remembers you are there, and why, and actually bothers to check with someone who knows. Receive apologies that they did not inform your department that the meeting was rescheduled to two weeks from today.
7. On the way back to the parking lot, turn to face the school and shout YOU ARE NOT SORRY ENOUGH. Suck it up and drive past yon beckoning home on the way back across town to work.
8. Spend remaining hour of the day on the phone trying to provide billable services. Leave messages. The minute you get a live person on the phone and start a serious and productive conversation, the other line rings not once, but three times.
9. Half an hour later, listen to voicemail telling you “by the way, there is a meeting at X on Thurs — ” and stop when the phone rings. Upon answering the phone, the same voice informs you the meeting is really Friday, hee hee, sorry. Refrain from shouting YOU ARE NOT SORRY ENOUGH at this person who has so far neglected to tell you about two meetings, misspelled your name horribly on every piece of correspondence from her office, and routinely forgotten what department you work for, despite having weekly contact with her for a year.
Go home. Sigh. Do it again tomorrow.
I want September to go away now.
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