Oh, how I remember that day!
Actually, I don’t.
But I do remember being “Bin Monitor” for a day.
The heady combination of performance anxiety & breathless anticipation of the great fortune my new status as “most revered” by my peers would bring, proved to be simultaneously, traumatic and exhilarating.
The burden of responsibility that came with the role weighed heavily on my nine-years-old shoulders as I began to contemplate the significant impact of making a mistake.
It would certainly be a disaster should I fail in my duties in front of an audience of my peers that included the love of my life (and her minders).
What may be the consequence of so visible a gaff?
Would I find myself destined to spend a lifetime desperately seeking redemption for my failure as a bin monitor through eternal peer or professional validation?
Perhaps I would become an embittered “Garbo“, the sinewy poster-child of the proletariat, swinging from the back of the dump truck at 6 a.m., five days per week, rain, hail or shine like some freighthopping hobo?
From my solitary foothold at the rear of an alternately, squealing and bellowing behemoth lurching through the pre-dawn streets, I would swoop like some mustachioed, moon-tanned figure of the apocalypse -a creature of garbage-can “prey”, replete in my stubbies and sleeveless shirt, to seize a pair of once, shiny and galvanised now, scarred and beaten steel bins, frozen, awaiting that weekly, few seconds of furious violence as I hammer their shells against the compactor until their insides spill out before discarding their empty carcasses..
Or could a worse fate befall me?
Would I instead become the “Garbo” that pioneered and perfected the practice of self isolation or “Iso” before it became all the rage?
It was not to be. That school day came and went uneventfully. At it’s conclusion, I carried the bin (more aptly named “waste-basket”) out to it’s larger sibling in the hallway and shook most of the contents out save for some mysterious and scary looking masses clinging tenaciously to their host.
I learned much from that day:
- Banana skins always stick to the bottom.
- There will always be at least one, unrecognisable item that looks suspiciously like contact would be lethal or result in a lingering and painful illness.
- The successful execution of my role did not engender mass adulation from my peers.
- The future is a “ghost” and rumination over it is pointless.
Math Challenge April 2020:
Ashley is a hairdresser and Toni is a personal trainer.
They are planning a wedding in an open-air food court.
All the guests will be Ashley or Toni’s clients and employees (except for the Celebrant).
How many people can attend the ceremony?
Here is a list of some of the more prosaic, workplace phenomena eliminated by social distancing:
- Watercooler conversations
- The lobby/foyer/food court, approaching, “Which side shall we pass each other?” dance.
- Escalator “overtaking-lane” hogs
- Social media notifications emanating from toilet cubicles.
- The morning cafe order “race condition”
- The mysterious fork/teaspoon “black hole”
- Awkward, revolving-door-halting “segment overload”
- Stepping on toes. (Physically, not metaphorically)
Some other perspectives on the current situation courtesy of boredpanda.com:
Have a great weekend.
Thanks to Jess for the pen licence/bin monitor inspiration!
P.S. I welcome any feedback, content suggestions, quotes, entertaining images or other contributions.
I will run the copy by you before including it in the mail-out -with full credit!
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I’m calling for a mass resurgence of interest in the “The Office” (citing nostalgic reasons…)