Once Saturday had started (at the crack of lunchtime) the day was extremely pleasant and relaxed. Just what I needed after a hard week at work (making up education puzzle and reading gay porn) to recover and refresh myself for this week when I have a new Project Manager starting.
Experience tells me this is never good. Every time I have been involved in a change of PM half way through a project it has always ended with me being out on my arse. Not because I’m bad (at least I never been told that) but because of working styles or requirements. Actually having written that I sound like I am crap! Anyway, that’s a different story by the sounds of it.
Back to my weekend.
Saturday, lunch was followed by a spot of shopping at the Junction of Bondi shopping centre. We, that would be Hubby and I took complete advantage of Westfield and managed, purely by chance, to get back to the car park in 1hour and 57 minutes. Free Parking for us. Thank you very much.
At 6 o’clock we were due to met Edna for dinner and then on to the Moonlight Cinema at Centennial Park, the first of many Birthmonth celebrations. I met her, but hubby remembered at the last minute that he had to do the Treasurers report for the alpaca meeting the following morning. So he joined us at about 6.45. By which time Edna and I had over analysed boys, their motivation and why they smell so good (at times).
The movie was Casino Royale, Hubby and I had already seen it but Edna hadn’t and was keen to make her mind up about a ‘ging-er’ Bond. As it turns out he is now up there with Timothy Dalton as her favourite. (I never said she had any taste in Bonds).
On the way back to the car and killing time before joining the back of the queue getting out of the park Edna spotted movement in a tree. Further inspection resulted in her seeing a flying fox for the first time ‘in the wild’.
After dropping Edna of at home, Hubby and I debated the merits of getting up at 6.30am on a Sunday morning to drive for three hours to a meeting were it was highly likely we were going to be subject to some form of abuse, whether it be subtle and covert or obvious. We decide that we couldn’t leave our El Presidente to fend for herself and resolved ourselves to five hours sleep.
We arrived in the heart of the Hunter Valley and the alpaca farm where the meeting was being held with two minutes to spare. We had stopped for an emergency Maccas (egg and bacon McHash brown, more fat than I normally consume in a week but yummy and fortifying), which had slowed us down by ten minutes. The Committee meeting was fine; we were in the garage while those attending the OGM gather outside in the carport. We made decisions, and all got along nicely. At five to eleven we close that meeting and moved towards the OGM. Hubby went outside, then came straight back in and said, ‘Have you taken your drugs, she’s here.’
After downing my daily dose of Atacand and Zanidip I braced myself and walked out. She was there. The Cantankerous Old Bat (COB) and her Short Husband (SH) had placed themselves in the back row and centre. As anyone who knows anything about public speaking/teaching the snipers always, always sit centre back. That means they cause maximum destruction and everyone has to turn around to look at them when they speak.
The meeting starting and proceeded peacefully until it came to the Treasurers report. Hubby presented his report and announced the region had a massive amount of cash in the bank. Then COB stands up and starts speaking, sorry not speaking, barking she launched into a tirade about how the trade debtor’s amount from November had changed from the November report to this report and that it was all wrong. When Hubby said ‘I can explain’ she started shouting that he was wrong, it was all wrong, he did the books wrong and anything he said would be wrong. Hubby tried to respond, she ignored him, she even ignored other members saying, ‘I would like to hear the Treasurers response’.
It all got messier, when Hubby stood up, pointed in a down motion and shout ‘COB, why don’t you just sit down and shut the f*ck up!’
At this point another member leap up and shouted ‘Mind the language please, there are children present,’ referring to a 13 year old. Another demanded an apology. Hubby agree and apologised to all present except COB. Then he said, ‘If I’m doing such a sh*it job, I will not continue. I resign!’ and walked out.
After a little pause, a few gasps and discussion on the lack of a Treasurer to continue reporting it was decided to move to the next item on the agenda, The Newsletter report.
I was up.
I gave my report, asked for submissions, gave deadline dates and announced that as of the end of the financial year I was resigning due to other commitments. Out of teh corner of my eye I could see her smirking.
Then it was my turn to be barked at. Unfortunately, as Hubby had already left I had to stand there and take it, but I shut her down. When SH muttered ‘bribery and corruption,’ regarding free advertisement to make up for errors and in payment for articles, I said (without looking at him) ‘This is standard process in the publishing industry’.
‘How would YOU know about that?’ was shouted
‘I have been published in several non-alpaca magazines and I’m studying for a Master in Writing.’
‘
As the meeting continued I was shaking. The hostess returned, after leaving at the same time Hubby and she had been crying, but was still white.
General Business was called and COB got stuck into me again about the 2007 Regional Calendar. This time, she seemed to step over an invisible line for many members when she stated that everyone who had sponsored a month was unhappy. (incidently, she neither sponsored or had animals involved) A couple of sponsors were there and one stood up and said, ‘I am extremely happy with the calendar and my ad. It was made clear to me from the start that my details would not appear under a picture of my animals.’ This must be the way to tell someone to shut the f*ck up when you're in the Salvation Army. It worked, so I’m not complaining.
The meeting was closed a little time later after a few other things were discussed and by all accounts COB and SH left without saying goodbye to anyone. I was inundated with people apologising to me for her behaviour. Why do people do that? It’s lovely and makes you feel loved and cared for, but why, ohh why do we do it? I do it too. I found myself saying sorry to the hostess for COB’s appalling attack on my Hubby. Hostess took lunch out to him while he was still sat in the car, while I fielded support at the house, for two hours. One lady, in her fifties with braids, who always attends meetings and never says a word, came up to me and said ‘If she’d spoken to like that, I’d have lumped ‘er one’.
In all we spent fourteen hours, that we will never get back, discussing alpaca politics. Not alpacas and their cute big brown eyes and nice soft fleece, but politics. Trust me when I say it’s not nearly as entertaining as having your foot broken.
(over 1000 words, sorry! ;-)
