Friday, 15 December 2017

TBE, Water and Glass: a Pathetic Potted History

So this week it’s all about pot plants. And glass vases. And TBE (aka The Boss Erratic). Of course.

Ah, the pot plants…..

Only TBE could make pot plants controversial (plants in pots, not the other type. Christ, if she had any of that she’d be hands-down The Most Annoying Stoner Ever. I’ve already seen her drunk, and it is not a pretty sight).

Here’s the thing: TBE is really good (Oh god, it pains me to say this), at visual displays. She creates beautiful window arrangements, loaded with imagination and stuffed full of products. Admittedly, this does make retrieving anything from the display nigh on impossible without disastrously overbalancing and dislodging everything around you like some accidental life-size game of dominoes – in full view of everyone in the street - but that’s another story.

Original photo: Skitterphoto, Pixabay

 
Our Sacred Creative Genius likes to pepper her displays with plants. Real plants; proper, living plants, usually in rustic wicker pots or similar. And the thing about living plants is, they need watering (yeah, yeah, I know: astounding, but stick with it). So, I have to water the plants. Doesn’t sound too difficult, right?

I think you’re forgetting who I work for…………..

you see TBE…... doesn’t seem to understand how water works.

The first time I watered her display plants I was quite pleased with myself: I’d turned contortionist and managed to reach her precious begonias or whatever without breaking or drowning anything else around them. But then, as I stood there, admiring my handiwork (it was a slow day), most of the water I’d just poured in ran straight out of the bottom of the pots and all over the display below.

It appeared TBE hadn’t water-proofed the plant pots. Ah well, it’s an easy thing to forget. Although, actually, no, it’s not, but TBE is away with the fairies half the time, so I just thought she’d made a mistake.

Until it happened again.

Clearly rather stupidly, I had assumed, given the previous Niagara episode, that TBE would be extra careful about waterproofing the bottom of her plant pots before shoving them in amongst the precious scarves, cushions, toys, clocks and artwork.

Not that precious, as it turned out.

I watered the plants and, five seconds later, murky liquid cascaded out of the pots and drenched all that lay below. Aargh! She’d done it to me twice! Once might be a mistake, but twice is careless.

Original photo: wileylong, Pixabay


Ultimately, I blamed myself; it was a rookie error. I had clearly forgotten Lesson One in, ‘Surviving Life with TBE’: never, ever, assume an intelligent, logical thought process.

By this point I reckon I hadn’t clapped eyes on TBE for several months (I know, mixed blessings), so I brought her attention to her water-blindness in the strongest, most direct way I could: I wrote a stiff note in the message book

I explained – politely - about water; gravity; and the wisdom of not positioning a water-bomb over a load of expensive stock. TBE is in her forties; I felt sure she would grasp the concept.

Sadly not.

Another display, another bunch of plants, another leak. She’s done it numerous times since. In fact, she does it every time.

TBE is an idiot.

Now I don’t water the plants at all. I just watch them slowly shrivel and die. That’ll show her. Except it won’t, because she’s an idiot.

And speaking of idiocy, let me introduce you to another ‘delightful’ quirk of the Out Of Favour (OOF) shop: the cutlery holder (oh be still my beating heart).

Excess cutlery for the cafe is stored in an upright container in the OOF shop kitchen. Every day, cutlery gets hurriedly and roughly shoved in and grabbed out of that container. The cutlery is metal and heavy.

The container is glass.

A fragile, engraved water jug to be precise. Used as a cutlery container. Who does that?

One day, surprise surprise, it broke. I came in to find the base had entirely separated from the rest of the thing. Now, I knew if I mentioned this to TBE (via the message book, obvs), she would blame me, and I’d already broken way too much shit in that shop already, so I kept quiet and waited for the next person to take the blame (don’t blame me for non-team sentiment; it’s everyone for themselves in that shop).

There wasn't any blood. That was just for effect. Original photo: Hans, Pixabay


Meantime, I just ignored the plight of the water jug. After all, it was still operational. Yes, OK, so there were a few shards of glass around and about, but, if I was really really careful, I could add and subtract cutlery without making anything any worse. No one would ever know I knew. And I always made sure to wipe the shards of glass off the cutlery before I gave it to anybody. I just had to wait it out until someone else discovered the breakage and told TBE/took the blame.

But it turned out everyone else was playing the same game. Nobody mentioned it, nobody moved it, nobody changed anything. For months. we all played a big, tense, unspoken game of Kerplunk with the glass jug and the cutlery.

Until one day I couldn’t stand it any longer and binned the thing.


Apparently nobody noticed.

3 comments:

  1. I think I've grossed people out with the blood. Maybe the blood was too much. There really wasn't any blood.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am surprised you didn't use it on TBE's jug-ular!

    ReplyDelete