holding pen

There is something unsettling about the place where I work, I think there is something wrong with everyone who works there...


One woman is physically incapable of listening to anyone, she is an expert at looking like she is listening but there'll be a break in the conversation and she'll look you square in the eyes and say something completely random like:

"You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to get a worm farm toilet approved by our shire council"


Another lady suffers from chronic asthma, fainting spells, hay fever, migraines, she is also deaf, dyslexic and immensely short sighted. She is almost never at work but when she is at work I find it almost impossible to comprehend how she can be a teacher.


There is this other one who survived decades of spousal abuse only to become a person who finds a way to insert her traumatising experiences into every conversation.
HER: How was your weekend?
ME: Not great. Yours?
HER: Better than spending my Sundays sitting in an emergency room with a smashed in face pissing blood on the floor. Did I ever tell you about...
She gives of this reek of desperation that could only be generated through a lifetime of being a complete and utter victim.


Everyone is so fucking paranoid, they'll strike out at any signs of weakness in others to mask their own insecurities.

Our staff room is a psychic land-fill for ugly thoughts and nasty sideways glances.

I just do my best to remain invisible.


Whenever you ask anyone in their late 40's early 50's how they're going at the beginning of the work day they will usually reply by telling you how many school days stand between themselves and retirement.

It is like the holding pen for a slaughterhouse.