On Saturday, between a late breakfast and a determined trip to the hardware store (I was about to return something, and was ready for a fight), I got a call. It was one of those phone survey callers. I told him I wasn't interested in doing a survey but, perversely, he needed to determine whether I fell into the correct demographic first, before he would let me reject his questionnaire.
Less than five minutes after that doubly-annoying call, the phone rang again. Expecting either my mother (perhaps there was a big discount on fresh meat at the supermarket and she wanted a ride) or that pesky telephone surveyor, I answered with less-than-dulcet tones.
It was someone from work. Did I know that I was supposed to be manning the sole-charge branch library today? Dang, I knew I should've checked the Saturdays roster this week! The branch library opens for only two hours on Saturdays, and it was already an hour in. If I left straight away, I would've got there just in time to turn on the computers and the lights for about ten minutes before closing up again. So my quick-thinking co-worker covered for me, since she was only fifteen minutes drive away. That left the main library with only the shift leader and two circulation staff, but fortunately it wasn't a monster-busy day at Central.
So the first thing I did when I arrived at work today (after apologising to my workmate and my boss) was to note down all my rostered Saturdays in my diary.
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