On Sunday over lunch my 16 year old son asked me, "If you had a daughter, what would you have called her?"
"Georgia." I said.
"Georgia? What kind of name is that?" said my son frowning at me.
I smiled sweetly back at him. "What would you call your daughter? If, you ever have one."
"I don't know, but if I had a boy I wouldn't call him Blake." Blake is his middle name and my maiden name.
"Why not?"
"Blake is a knacker's name."
He might as well have punched me in the chest.
Monday morning at work, my colleague, Diane sent out an email to 'All Exchange Users' with guidance notes on how to complete an application for funding form. It's something she's required to do every year yet despite the clear, step-by-step instructions, the forms are often returned with vital pieces of information missing. When sending out the instructions this year she carefully underlined the relevant points and highlighted in bold and yellow what not to do.
Another Diane, with the same surname, received a phone call.
"I find your font offensive."
"What?"
"The email you just sent. It's offensive."
"I didn't send any email."
Yes, you did. Just now. To all exchange users and it's rude."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"It's about funding.... Instructions on how to fill forms.... Ring any bells......?"
There was no bell but a penny dropped.
"You mean Diane in the Fees Office," said Diane, "she probably sent it."
"Oh, now you're trying to pass it off on someone else."
Later that day, another colleague, Marita was heading home on the bus. A lady boarded the bus with the help of crutches. Marita could see there was a seat available so she stayed put. A few stops later when Marita got up to leave, an elderly woman came up behind her and hissed, "How do you sleep at night?"
Marita blinked at her, "Excuse me?"
"You never offered your seat to that poor lady on crutches, you're a disgrace."
The humidity we have been experiencing this last week seems to be softening the brains of Cork. The clammy air, charged with lightning accusations and imagined insults, is sparking friction and offence among seemingly normal people. The Irish can't handle heat and the sooner we revert to cooler conditions, the better.
In the meantime, everybody can just font off.
"Georgia." I said.
"Georgia? What kind of name is that?" said my son frowning at me.
I smiled sweetly back at him. "What would you call your daughter? If, you ever have one."
"I don't know, but if I had a boy I wouldn't call him Blake." Blake is his middle name and my maiden name.
"Why not?"
"Blake is a knacker's name."
He might as well have punched me in the chest.
Monday morning at work, my colleague, Diane sent out an email to 'All Exchange Users' with guidance notes on how to complete an application for funding form. It's something she's required to do every year yet despite the clear, step-by-step instructions, the forms are often returned with vital pieces of information missing. When sending out the instructions this year she carefully underlined the relevant points and highlighted in bold and yellow what not to do.
Another Diane, with the same surname, received a phone call.
"I find your font offensive."
"What?"
"The email you just sent. It's offensive."
"I didn't send any email."
Yes, you did. Just now. To all exchange users and it's rude."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"It's about funding.... Instructions on how to fill forms.... Ring any bells......?"
There was no bell but a penny dropped.
"You mean Diane in the Fees Office," said Diane, "she probably sent it."
"Oh, now you're trying to pass it off on someone else."
Later that day, another colleague, Marita was heading home on the bus. A lady boarded the bus with the help of crutches. Marita could see there was a seat available so she stayed put. A few stops later when Marita got up to leave, an elderly woman came up behind her and hissed, "How do you sleep at night?"
Marita blinked at her, "Excuse me?"
"You never offered your seat to that poor lady on crutches, you're a disgrace."
The humidity we have been experiencing this last week seems to be softening the brains of Cork. The clammy air, charged with lightning accusations and imagined insults, is sparking friction and offence among seemingly normal people. The Irish can't handle heat and the sooner we revert to cooler conditions, the better.
In the meantime, everybody can just font off.
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