Why? I mean really. Why?

The meeting opens with Heavy Drinker and Old Toad bleating on about fuck knows what and fuck knows why! Heavy Drinker is one of those Mid Forties women who somehow manage to get positions of responsibility and are holier than thou during the week, and drink like a fucking scarfie in the weekends. More than once I have witnessed her getting herself totally legless and throwing herself at ‘young male staff members’. But that’s sweet cos as long as you never mention it its all sweet. Old Toad is short and stout and lies about everything. She is one of those idiots who deliberately swears cos she thinks its cool, but it someone else swears, up on the high horse she goes. She is thick. A perfect example of how the public service continually promote people beyond their level of capability.

SO they open the meeting – using all the imperatives and hyperboles their 95 IQ’s can muster, we MUST do…. It is vitally important that… with great urgency… I start zoning out and my focus switches to the birds outside, as it does often in these situations. I go into bird whisperer mode and listen carefully and I am sure they are making fun of me being stuck in the beige sea, while they are outside and having fun.

Toad pulls my focus back to the front of the room. How can I take her seriously? She is mid fifties, and her pierced nose and tattoos are seriously sad. She is unintelligent, and her sun damaged skin sags off her flabby body like a rubber sack. I start getting irritated. I figure the meeting must be nearly over… I check the time. It has only been 5 minutes!! I don’t understand why I need to listen to this. All of this could have been given to us, bullet pointed on an A4.

My focus shifts again over to the other side of the room. Fat Sharon is spilling over more than her fair share of seats, and next to her Whaea Honky is chewing with her mouth wide open. Whaea Honky is one of those white neo liberals who think that cos they have been on a Marae that ‘they know what its like to be Maori”. I shit you not, she seriously seems to think she has a special brown gene – I hate wannabes more than just about everything. She shoves another great fistful of food into her great enormous mouth… that’s Waha don’t you know!!! Toady is still croaking on in the back ground and Gertrude is staring off into space in a way I recognise as unabashed boredom. Fat Sharon appears to be nodding at everything everyone says, I wonder if she is nodding cos she thinks she knows everything or if it’s the weight of her great gargantuan head on her behemoth shoulders causing the nodding motion. She really is very fat and unattractive. I wish something really humiliating would happen to her – like she would shit herself or something.

Oh no! Sycophant with a J has her hand up. Please no. We just don’t need this meeting to go down this road. Just as I start to panic The Leprechaun makes a good point. Apparantly it’s a good point. I wouldn’t know because I don’t understand a single word that comes out of his mouth.

I can feel my eyes rolling back in my head, and my barely sparking spirit is wailing inside me. If I could verbalise this sound it would be something like the weird moaning sound my hot water cylinder makes when I am trying to sleep at nigfht.

Sycophant with a J didn’t get to ask her question… but it doesn’t matter cos it would have been a stupid question anyway. I can guarantee that!

An aeroplane flies overhead. Its very loud, and sounds as if it is quite close. I imagine it crashing into this room. The thought doesn’t scare me.
I look at Man Boobs. I wonder how he ended up like that. He looks as if he may be expecting a child, and his hair appears to have never experienced shampoo. He looks like he would stink. I don’t know if he does as I choose to keep my distance.

The meeting drags on… the same words chewed up and recycled over and over and over and over and over … you get the message.

I notice Toady has a protruding old lady belly, I wonder if menopause did that – or if she always looked like that. She really is quite amphibious in her appearance, hunched, buggy eyed and stumpy. Ew.

How have I ended up in a profession so RICH with relentlessly boring and pointless shit! Some of these people are seriously so so so stupid – I assume we are all university educated, and this workplace is proof positive that university degree means less than nothing.

I fight the overwhelming urge to tip my chair all the way back over so I fall off backwards.

Someone makes a LAME ass joke about something so pathetically lame that I almost gag. And everyone laughs. Seriously – I want to scream at them ‘IT WASN’T FUNNY… FUCK YOU ALL’ and I wonder (not for the first time) if I am in The Truman Show – except its Me and not Truman – and if this is all some sick joke. Cos I promise you the joke wasn’t funny. It was lame.

Whaea Honky is looking pained. Perhaps she just realised she is white. Or ugly. Or both. She looks like the lost triplet from The Proclaimers. If you don’t know who that is do a goggle image search. I’m sure you will agree that its not pleasant.

Then Mr Mantis speaks. If I record this, I could sell it as a sleep cure for insomniacs. I know that’s a cliché, but they are called clichés cos they are true.

I reflect on my intense hunger. I wonder if I am actually hungry or just wanting food cos I am bored. Either way it doesn’t matter. So I look at Fat Sharon. I don’t want food after that. All the while I scrawl insanely in my book.

I wonder why Crazy Colleague isn’t here. Meh Who cares.

Meetings Eat Ass... Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

So the meeting started the way they always do... The Proffessors beaky face snapping at us to work harder, longer and faster. We are instructed to rush everything through.. its vital that things were done yesterday. She then tells us all that Crazy Colleague has 'once again' done the best report comment, they are 'concise, clear, parent friendly and relevant to the curriculum". So Sycophant (with a J) started sucking up and saying how WONDERFUL Crazy's comments were, and how FABULOUS it was that Proffessor gave us copies of them last year, and that it was SOOOO helpful!!

After I finished vomitting into my own mouth and refocussed they were having an indepth conversation about the Curriculum Essence Statememt. Sycophant with a J said "ohhh this is good isnt it... here on page 34... isnt it good though!!!"... and preoffessor mentioned something about a 'Gradient of sophistication". I couldnt help myself. I had to ask...

"Am I actually supposed to give a fuck about any of this"

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH spar penelope... with more spit than i would imagine a thunderbird was capable of producing.

I dont even have a lighter to set myself on fire with!!!

The puppet starts reading something out loud for all of our benefit.. does she think we cant read? n account of none of us having university degrees or anything. The Sycophant with a J decides this is a good PR move and simultaneously reads something loud off page 34 (i think its her favorite page) and as crazy utters the words "congruous to me..." i will myself to have a seizure.

I interrupt. "where do I put my students 2.1 assessments" Professor glares at me.

The new girl starts discussing the semsntics of the phrase 'English Literature". 'By english literature are we assuming that this encompasaes only English literature as in tat its from england? Cos that doesnt cover New Zealand texts really does it"

"ooohhhhhhhh Good Point" oozes sycophant with a J. Crazy Colleague ANGRILY disagrees. All of a sudden they are all animatedly discussing the semantics of the phraseology of English Literature. Is it English? Or is it British. I feel like i am in an oliver stone movie.

I suggest it might be called Anglo Saxon Literature. no one sees the humour. I go back to drawing pictures of knives.

They move on... they start arguing over Creating Meaning and Extracting Meaning. I am feeling SICK in my stomach trying to dredge up the vaguest pretence of interest or engagement in this neologistic bullshit. FARKKKKKKKKK no wonder kids hate school.

The Welshman finds a condom on the floor. I announce it isnt his... cos its not a mini one... THE PUPPET shhhhhhhhhhh's at us both... Crazy Colleague notices the condom and announces that yellow is an unsexy colour and sniffs it. Its banana flavoured! We all have a sniff. Puppet is fuming! At this point the proffessor notices how people are actually laughing so we are all given our come uppances ... too much hilarity makes her turn to dust.

I look out the window. I envy the cleaners who are cleaning the toilets... they arent in here with us. Professor asks a question and i answer it with an actual intelligent and articulate answer. Crazy Colleague then takes my idea and runs with it. She actually STOLE my idea. Sycophant with a J agreed most whole heartedly with Crazy, saying she thought it was a FABULOUS idea, i think she may have even used the word ... MAGNIFIQUE!!
Crazy is meanwhile, getting very passionate, psychotically so, even angry, about this whole thing.

So I suggersted we just throw out the curriculum and teach everything through the medium of Creative Dance. The Welshman said "that not fiar ... what about the cerebral palsy kids" We laughed. The Puppet was ready to explode with anger. I laughed. Perhaps a TAD too loudly.

I notice about now that everyone else is sitting round one lot of tables and i am at one all by myself. I wonder if it is self imposed exile or if they hate me as much as i hate them. I guess it doesnt matter.

The rest of the meeting passes pretty much as it has till now... words like 'integrate,,, interpret...recognise...edit..." Old Man suggests a glossary might be a good idea to aid in our collective understanding. Sycophant with a J says...."OHHH thats a WONDERFUL Idea".

Mentally I projectile vomit on the table. I look out the window.