New management at the library has decreed that we start having staff meetings once a month at 8.30am, to stop us looking gormless at the counter. I missed the last one. I forgot about it. I did write it on my calendar then forgot to look at my calendar, which is nothing unusual.
I was so thrilled by the small miracle of not only remembering, but turning up in time to make myself a cup of tea that when we all sat down and our lovely manager said, "Would someone mind taking the minutes?" I accidentally put my hand up. Several pages of A4 were instantly flung down the table.
Panic flared for a couple reasons. a) I've never taken minutes at a meeting before. Hell, I don't think I ever BEEN to a meeting before. b) With all the typing I do I've practically forgotten how to use a pen. What if I couldn't keep up?
"It's just making notes really," said the manager kindly, sensing my bewilderment, so I gamely gave it a go.
I had to resist the temptation to fiction it up ... The mood in the room was tense. Rachel flicked Kathy a dirty look, but nobody noticed except me and stick to Study Centre training will be available for all staff members.
Not exactly Hemingway but I quite enjoyed it once I got into my stride, though I did get carried away and wrote The End at ... well, the end. It even gave me the urge to start writing long-hand again.
It'll probably wear off quite soon.