20 Mar 2015

cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (wtf?)
I sent an email to ask how to go about arranging a continuation of this work practice arrangement, because the job bureau only answer the phone when I am busy with said work practice. I got an email back that said if all parties are in favor it's fine, just "deliver a new contract to the job bureau about a week before the end of the current agreement".

Not unnaturally, I think, I took this to mean that all I had to do was deliver the new papers to them about a week before the end of the current agreement.

That's next Friday, so I went there today half an hour before their reception window closes to deliver the papers in question.

But the receptionist guy seemed unaccountably angry, all like "THIS IS TOO LATE" (which left me probably visibly astonished since, half hour before closing) because apparently the social workers have gone home and nobody but them is allowed to accept paperwork because they have to be examined right away to make sure they are in order. This was brand new information for me (I was envisioning a post-box kinda situation where you get an answer in the mail later. I've even been told to send my papers to them in the mail for a past work practice).

"You have to come back Monday," he continued, sounding about as annoyed as if HE was the one who was going to have to run across town first thing Monday morning and miss an hour of work. "Between nine and three." He also conveyed with a world-weary air that the workers' office hours are ALWAYS then which I already knew, but didn't say as it was unlikely to help things along.

"Someone tried to call you," he added disapprovingly, "on the 13th, and you didn't answer." The same day I got my email reply so I assume to convey the contents of the email, and definitely while I was at work but not a number I knew came from them. Talking would have enabled me to get that detail ironed out, but I can't leave my ringer on all the time and since 9 out of 10 unknown numbers are telemarketers, I answer to them but I can't start calling them back.

I'm irritated that I have to go back, but there isn't anybody to blame really, as I imagine the writer of the email expected me to understand 'deliver the papers' to imply 'into the hands of a social worker, and then watch with an air of alert anxiety while they examine them'. So I don't really blame that person, or, hence, anyone but the inevitable gaps between cogs in the machinery of bureaucracy. Therefore, mostly I'm kinda stumped by the dude's irritation.

I mean, of course it's better when there aren't these little misunderstandings, but he has to see a lot of them working reception in the most overworked and understaffed organ of federal bureaucracy around, right? And his attitude would be entirely understandable if I had been a Difficult Customer, but I hadn't; or making more work for anyone but myself, but also I hadn't (there wasn't anyone else there and it's not like he could leave early). Maybe he was having a really bad week.

I want cookies.
cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (working)
Today at lunchtime a two-year-old who loves food was sitting next to me without eating at all and it turned out this was because he was falling asleep - literally nodding off in fact; couldn't keep his little eyes open. I spoonfed him a couple of bites and he ate them happily enough... and then his eyes closed again emetophobia, general grossout )

Then at afternoon snacktime the kids were eating bowls of fruit kisseli which is sort of like thin jam, or thick fruit soup (the dictionary offers "fool" and "dessert cream" which sound British and weird and also I had no idea what they were). And one of my two remaining tablemates grossness )

OH AND OKAY one of my coworkers in the Little Kid House is on vacay this week and I only met her substitute on Monday before getting sick the entire week, but I knew I would see her today as well on her last day, so when I walked in and there was a woman of the right general size and shape on the floor playing with a kid, I just assumed it was her.

So when she was like "Hey, good morning", I immediately fixated on her haircut and was like "Have you cut your hair?" which, surprisingly, kind of threw her into confusion.

She said "No," but it was more like "... ??? ??? No... ???" and we kinda stared at each other and she started to explain something along the lines of, "I've come here today..." and I was like

"OH! You're not [Substitute's Name]?"

"No... I'm X, the special education teacher assigned to this daycare..."

"OH, yes, I've seen your picture on the wall in the other building, that's why you looked familiar! Sorry..." I said.

And I mean, she wasn't mad or anything. I think. Just very, very confused.

But when I was telling the other work practicer about it at lunchtime I laughed until I cried.


cimorene: A black-and-white vintage photograph of 1920s singer Helen Kane in profile, with a dubious, side-eye expression (Default)

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