Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It might spit in your face.

Our bright, bubbly Saturday girl handed in her notice, which was sad for TBE (aka The Boss Erratic) and for me. I was sad because I liked her and she worked hard. TBE was sad because she was under age and TBE could pay her peanuts. Of course, that still didn’t mean she was going to be replaced by another tweeny exploitee:

“You can cope on your own on a Saturday from now on, can’t you?”

As a thank you for all her hard work, TBE generously announced she would give Saturday Girl whatever she wanted from the shop as her leaving present. Saturday Girl wanted a bag in a colour that had just sold out. I told TBE.

“No problem” she breezed, with all the warmth and generosity of a Retail Mother Earth bestowing Great Favours. “Whatever she wants, she shall have. Leave it with me. I’ll sort it out.”

“It’s all OK” I told Saturday Girl. “(TBE) is sorting it out.”

Picture: Tomasz_Mikolajczyk: Pixabay

Saturday Girl’s last day was fast approaching, and the bag hadn’t yet appeared.

“Has the bag turned up yet? I asked TBE.

“It’s fine.” She said. “It’s all in hand”.

Saturday Girl’s last day arrived, but the bag didn’t.

“I’m so sorry we can’t give you your leaving present on your last day.” I told Saturday Girl.

“You will get it. (TBE) is sorting it out. I think she’s still waiting for the order. No doubt she’ll be in touch with you when it finally arrives.”

A month went by, and I bumped into Saturday Girl on the street.

“Did you ever get your leaving present?”

“No, I didn’t”

‘Odd’ I thought. If there had been a supplier problem TBE would have asked Saturday Girl to pick something else. So I texted TBE (Reader, you know the drill by now: always by text never by phone):

Our text conversation went like this:

Me: Hello. I saw (Saturday Girl) today. She said she still hasn’t got her leaving present. Did the order ever get delivered?

TBE: I didn’t place the order.

 I’m sorry, what?! 

Picture: geralt: Pixabay

TBE: The minimum number needed to order was too high. The shop would have been overrun with bags.

But this was a repeat order! You knew the minimum all along! 
And it's not just any old repeat order, it's a present! A present you said you would sort out!

How many weeks before Saturday Girl left did you decide you wouldn’t place the order?!

And you didn’t feel like telling me? Or Saturday Girl? Or anyone?!

Me: Oh. OK. Have you contacted (Saturday Girl) and told her this? Because I think she’s still expecting it.

TBE: Oh for goodness sake! Is she still going on about it?!

‘Still going on’? ’Still going on’! WTF?! This is the leaving present you specifically said you would get for her! Not sure we’re questioning the right person’s behaviour here…...

Me: No. It’s me asking. Did we give her anything else as a leaving present instead of the bag?

TBE: No. There wasn’t anything else suitable.

Me: Right….

TBE: Teenagers eh? What are they like?

What are they like?!

Far be it for me to offer myself as an expert on teenagers, but in this instance I’d say they are like someone who’s been metaphorically bitch-slapped with a make-believe handbag they thought was real, were told was real, but was never real. Ouch (metaphorically, not literally). 

Still, that’s the risk we all take for supping with the dev........ er, for working with TBE…

TBE as she really is underneath the sugar act.
With dandruff. Probably.
Picture: Efraimstochter: Pixabay

TBE, eh? What’s she like?

Answers on a postcard please. They don’t have to be polite. Mine aren’t.