The Longest Week

Work has been a little much of late. Two seventy-two hour weeks followed by last weeks fifty-four.

This week I'm scheduled for about fifty-eight but ... wait for it ... I'm getting the weekend off!!!

Well, most of it anyway.

My new rota arrived (for this week) on Friday morning. Low and behold ... I was scheduled for another seven days.

I phoned up the office...

"OK! Very funny. Now where's my real rota for next week"

"Eh?"

"There is no way I'm working another full week."

"Who is this?"

In my haste to complain I had forgotten to tell them who I was.

"It's George"

"Hello dahlin"

"Don't you 'dahlin' me."

"What's the matter my love?"

They only talk to me that way when they are trying to placate me. It doesn't work. I'm (mumble-mumble) years old and don't want some slip of a girl calling me 'dahlin' and 'love' unless the circumstances call for it (you know what I mean, wink-wink [don't tell my wife I said that]).

I proceeded to rant about my rota for the coming week and 'slip of a girl' continued to say there was nothing they could do as so many people were off sick or on leave.

Frustrated I just said "Sort it out" and hung up.

Within the hour I received a call from the office. This time there was no 'dahlin', 'love' or any kind of attempt to sweet-talk me.

A voice just said "We've covered your Saturday call's and most of your Sunday call's too. Only one call on Sunday, but it's not far from you anyway. That all right?"

Without much ado, or waiting for my answer, she hung up.

And there you have it!

Saturday off. Sunday just one call.

Pretty much as near as you can get to a 'weekend off' in this business.

After two hundred and fifty-six hours (not including driving time) work I can now look forward to a weekend off in which to mow the lawn, pull up weeds, cut the hedge, repair the shed, tidy up the flower beds (if I can find them) and go shopping.

The thought of all those relaxing activities will keep me going though the rest of the week.