Katherine Hayton | 2015 June
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June 2015

02 Jun / New peeps

Today my little work team of four FTE and five staff expanded massively to six FTE and seven staff. Luckily three of them were away or I would’ve been completely overwhelmed.

For weeks leading up to this day I’ve been thinking, gosh won’t it be great when the new peeps start because they could do THIS instead of me having to.

Come to the actual day, and all of the THIS disappeared, and left me with not much to show the newbies at all.

All of the grunt work I was swearing under my breath about, gone.

All of the new projects that I was swearing aloud but quietly about, started.

All of the documents that I was swearing at volume about, updated.

Gosh darnit, but I’m efficient and then some.

It’s left me trawling back through my to-do lists for the past couple of months, where all the items that I really wanted to be getting on with but couldn’t because I was only one woman damnit, have been storing up their workload of goodness.

Once I have that compiled then I just have to deal with the next problem.

In order to teach someone how to do something it’s necessary to show them how to do something which requires the same amount of time, if not more, than doing the something required in the first place. Then there’s the preparation of the training materials for things I didn’t need training materials for previously because I was the only one interested in doing them.

If I didn’t have time before when I only had five staff to look after, how am I meant to do it with seven?

Oh the pressure.

Luckily there’s only two and a half months to go and then I’ll be winging my way overseas on a holiday to recuperate. Phew. I feel like I’ve earned it already.

Bring on day two.

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01 Jun / Impounded

Yesterday I was sitting peacefully at my computer looking at things I shouldn’t be, when there was a strangled yell from outside, and my darling bounded through the front door.

As he slammed it behind him and continued to run around the corner I began to form a vague idea of what had just happened.

Sure enough, the dog from next door was in our section again.

I’ve emailed the council about this dog previously, and was reassured by the dog pound people that they’d paid a visit and ensured that there was a sufficiently well fenced area that the dog could be contained within. They’d even suggested that the neighbours drop their phone number in to all of their neighbours so that we could call if the dog got loose again.

The phone number in the letterbox never eventuated, and the dog continued to roam through the neighbourhood freely whenever it felt like it.

Apart from occasionally yelling at it out of the windows it hasn’t been too much trouble since. We can yell. We can yell very scarily when we’re safely inside.

But yesterday the dog was under the tree, and the sun was in my darling’s eyes, and the dog tried to exit the property by running directly at him.

And girly screams and running.

Well, this time I was talking a stand. There was to be no email this time. No.

I picked up the phone and I called the council directly.

Ben was having a bit of trouble with his computer but I managed to stress the words large and dog several times, along with tossing the colour scheme of brindle in there because no one likes a brindle dog (except for brindle dog owners I presume).

Not too much time passed and a dog van pulled up across the street from our neighbours. A few minutes more and a second van turned up.

We’ve heard that oftentimes the police only have one van out patrolling the streets of Christchurch, but if you’re a dog on the loose watch out.

They sat for a while and surveyed the scene. Then they pulled into the driveway and the action started.

There was chasing and yelping and ‘whose a good dog, you’re a good dog’-ing, and then a whole lot of hammering.

We received a phonecall later to say that the dog had been lying in the sun on the front porch, but due to our dobbing him in they’d discovered the gate was broken and had taken the opportunity to secure the dog on the property by fixing it up with a bit of DIY.

Here’s hoping that’s the last time either of us run screaming across the driveway certain that jaws of death are about to fasten on our backsides.

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