A bad start to the end of the week

You know how sometimes one bad thing said can instantly cancel out the myriad of good things that have been said, and how often one can fixate on that one bad thing for far, far too long after the event? Well, I sense the potential for me to adopt that habit for a moment or two … Or a few days even …

After having received more compliments and praise for my skills and abilities and personality than I could ever even attempt to count or recount over the past months, and especially in the past week as colleagues start to realise that I have nearly been here a full 12 months, this morning I came into work and happened to notice something that I had not noticed before as I was wandering the corridor and unlocking the necessary doors…

On the noticeboard outside my office is a print-out of our class timetables off the website (readily accessible by any *cough* moron), and a copy is also tied by string to a table just down the corridor from the noticeboard. As I glanced at the copy of the timetable this morning, I noticed a handwritten annotation on it … and I quote (though the handwriting is really rather *cough* illegible) …

Copies of this are on the desk to your right
(don’t ask the moron in the office!)

Harsh. Even brought a few tears to my eyes. Before I got really pissed off!

I have a hunch about who wrote this. I could be completely wrong, but I at least have a hunch … The other day a student (a student, I might also add, who is higher than undergraduate level) from another discipline came in to check the timetable because he couldn’t access it online (*cough* see above). The unit he was inquiring about had undergone a few changes to tutorial offerings, so I crossed out two of the timetables listed on the noticeboard. I remember him giving me an odd look, but didn’t think about it anymore than that.

My friendly attitude towards students who cannot complete the mind-numbingly simple task of accessing their own timetables is very quickly wearing out. Seriously, any monkey could do it. I’m not about to print a personal bleeping copy of the bleeping timetable for every nuff-nuff who steps into my office! It is in the corridor in two places (and you can take out your trusty little pen and write it in your diary in your own illegible handwriting, because if you are studying a PhD at this University I would hope that you at least had the skill to do that instead of expecting someone to do it for you!) And if someone has taken the front page off the copy that is tied to the desk, it is not my fault. Do you realise just how bleeping frustrating it gets when students are constantly and consistently coming into my office (which, I grant you, is the general enquiries office for this department) asking the same simple questions? Aaarrghhhhh!

Maybe it wasn’t the student that I have a hunch it was, but whoever it was … people in glass houses … pot calling the kettle … Learn (and it ain’t difficult) how to access your timetable online yourself, and then you wouldn’t have any reason to darken my office door again.


~ by pincushiondiary on August 5, 2005.

2 Responses to “A bad start to the end of the week”

  1. Oh that’s so harsh. You write so nicely about the students there, that I can’t believe someone would do that. Me on the other hand, who has almost never even had a nice thought, let alone comment, about a student at my workplace, well, I reckon I’d have been called worse. But you? This surprises me.

    Anyway, I do like what you’ve said – it’s not that hard to figure things out for yourself. In my opinion, too many people rely on others, rather than try and figure things out for themselves.

    Don’t give someone like this too much credit. With so many other compliments and niceties said about you, it’s kinda obvious which ones are correct!

  2. Thanks, Rae! I’ve not really given it another thought … I’m choosing to think on the positive, especially because tomorrow I’ve got my first “meeting” with my supervisor for the performance review process, and I know that Friday’s incident was an isolated one …

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