Monday morning, the start of a new dawn, a new day a new life, for me…and I’m feeling shit.
Still not recovered from the weekend,
Not y a long way.
I wake up late, it is hot and sweaty. Also I am both hot and sweaty.
I am being crap, someone is in the shower. I can’t get my stuff in gear. I feel shaky, can I call in sick on the first day of a new job? Not really..
Then I remember that all of last night I spent staring at the shirt that needs ironing, I never quite got round to it. So I find my self in the kitchen, panicking at the clock because it tells me I should have left five minutes ago, and I’ve not even had a shower yet.
I can’t skip the shower, I reek.
So I find myself at the tube station fifteen minutes after I should have been. The tube is hot, I sweat, the shower is deemed pointless after ten minutes on the Jubilee Line.
Changing at Finchley road I discover it is 25 past nine, should be at work for half past. I decide to make THAT phone call to the temping agency and tell them I’m running late.
Did I really just do a month of eight o clock starts and be on time every day?
They will let the office know.
I get to work, I knock on the tiny glass door, my new boss comes in
I apologise profusely, he is surprisingly fine about it.
He tells me that all othe new temps are going to have a debriefing first. They’ve held off for me. We walk in to a room, it is a very small room, not air conditioned with about 200 people in it.
They have all lost at least 5lbs in sweat. I get the evil eye from everyone. This is the worst punishment for being late.
I say hello cheerfully and remember that I am here until September.