I accuse my mother of suffering from SSS, a not well understood condition otherwise known as Same Story Syndrome. She has a story for every occasion and she brings them out in high rotation. We know them all and yet she tells them as though they are a fresh yarn. I'm not sure if SSS is hereditary or just human nature but I have a case of it too. Like the story of when my darling son was about four. He didn't much like being left at daycare and every day he would ask to come with me. I would tell him I had a meeting and meetings were "boring and rubbish". Of course one day I had to take him to a meeting and he announced to my colleagues "my mother thinks meetings are boring and rubbish". Remind me not to put him down as a referee. I think of this just about every time I'm at a meeting. Today's was a two hour special. I have been to many a meeting far more boring and with a much higher rubbish rating. However, as the clock ticked around towards noon my stomach was starting to complain. Though the glass doors of the meeting room I saw the caterers arrive with great big boxes of deliciousness. I saw what was clearly, unmistakably cake. Our sweet reward for being good little employees. The catering was anything but boring and rubbish. The staff at the meeting are revolting. Let them eat cake.
I accuse my mother of suffering from SSS, a not well understood condition otherwise known as Same Story Syndrome. She has a story for every occasion and she brings them out in high rotation. We know them all and yet she tells them as though they are a fresh yarn. I'm not sure if SSS is hereditary or just human nature but I have a case of it too. Like the story of when my darling son was about four. He didn't much like being left at daycare and every day he would ask to come with me. I would tell him I had a meeting and meetings were "boring and rubbish". Of course one day I had to take him to a meeting and he announced to my colleagues "my mother thinks meetings are boring and rubbish". Remind me not to put him down as a referee. I think of this just about every time I'm at a meeting. Today's was a two hour special. I have been to many a meeting far more boring and with a much higher rubbish rating. However, as the clock ticked around towards noon my stomach was starting to complain. Though the glass doors of the meeting room I saw the caterers arrive with great big boxes of deliciousness. I saw what was clearly, unmistakably cake. Our sweet reward for being good little employees. The catering was anything but boring and rubbish. The staff at the meeting are revolting. Let them eat cake.
No comments:
Post a Comment