124. WFH (2/3)

This time I don't bother. I keep my lockdown worn-out (so many lockdowns!) wooly jumper on and I have a steaming cup of coffee next to me (to stay awake). My camera is OFF. I am taking no risks. When the time for introductions comes, I wonder if the boss notices how much my enthusiasm has dwindled since the last meeting. 

'Mrs F.! Can your hear me?' 

'Yes, I can.' I mutter, hot coffee burning my mouth. 'I can hear you. Can you hear me?'

We sound like a bunch of kids playing with walkies-talkies (by the way does anyone know why walkie-talkie becomes talkie-walkie in French? Seriously!). 

My own kids start to roll in one by one, dumping school bags and cases and other paraphernalia everywhere. 

'Be quiet! Please! I am on a conference call!'

'Yeah! Right! We love you too, Mum! Pleased we're home? What's for dinner?'

'Please! I am W. F. H. !'

They all burst out laughing ... and head straight for the fridge, the hob and the oven. In that order. And then they go quiet.

Twenty minutes later when they realise they have been reunited for long enough, they start squabbling. I turn up the volume of the conference call so they can hear it is for real. It is getting awfully noisy in here but then their father comes in and sends them all off on errands/chores etc. At least someone understands I have a job to do. Calm descends on the household and I can turn my colleagues's voices down. It's a relief.

'Who on earth would have a meeting on a Friday evening?' my husband asks, appalled by such poor calendar-management practice. 'Typical French! Do they feel so bad about having so many bank holidays and 'bridges' and whatnots that they have to work Friday nights?'

He then lets out a big sigh. I ignore him and pretend to concentrate on the meeting.  

Then I hear the lovely soft 'pop' of a cork. I can tell it is not just wine but bubbles. A more airy 'pop', not so deep and cavernous. I am right. He takes my cup of now tepid coffee from the coaster and replaces it with a lovely glass of bubbly. Suddenly my job is glamorous. So I add in a wee comment in the chat box: 'I agreee.' It says, it can do no harm. it just says: hey guys, I'm here. I am not asleep. And no, I am not enjoying a glass of Champagne while you lot are sitting in a freezing hall on hard chairs with not even a glass of tap water to drink. I smile smugly to myself.

Sipping my heavenly beverage, I sit back telling myself to really get into this meeting. But I can't. I stare at the screen. I can hear what they are saying but ... my mind is blank. It cannot be the drink. I've only had two sips! I keep on staring believing that meaning is soon going to come out of all this. I just need to persevere. 

And it is getting easier. The boss and one teacher are now having a discussion and are simply ignoring everyone else. They are agreeing on the fact that the youngster is making the wrong decision about his future but still the head absolutely wants to make a point. He goes on about ambition and about the kids in this school being just as good as an other. I think: statistics. I think: school ranking tables. Personally I think the choice of this kid (who wants to be a chef) is excellent! But the head is annoyed and he really wants to put his point across. He suddenly jerks his head right back in a mocking laugh saying:

'Come on! You don't think that!' 

And he stays like that with his head right back even after the laughter has stopped. We wait ... and wait ... The colleague next to him turns her head more to the right, where he sits, and we can see her eyes are widening. This makes us a little worried. Is he stuck? For us, the WFH crowds, it is scary as all we can see is his neck and chin completely covered by a blue mask. From where I am looking it honestly just looks like a pastel-blue birthday balloon stuck on a suit and tie. I cannot see the top of his head at all, no eyes, no hair. I check my glass to see how much I have drunk then I look closer. How can he ever bring his head back up from so far back? How can he even breathe? Then, to everyone's relief, his head swings right back! Boing! Everyone starts breathing again. All I can think about is a Jack-in-the-box.

'I will have to speak to him.' He announces firmly. I wonder if pushing your brain right back like this helps to put his ideas in place. Maybe I'll try this someday. It might be a rare yoga position. What do I know?

I grab my glass to take an other sip of my drink. I am so happy to be WFH!  

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the drama, one young female colleague has been using the camera as a mirror. She keeps pouting her lips and coming right up close to the camera to check her eyelashes. Then she sits back and pushes her hair behind her ears, then back over the ears. She tilts her head, obviously trying to decide which way suits her best. I am wondering: does she know her face is up on the big screen fro all to see? In the big room it is back to business as usual, people are chatting away filling in reports cards one after the other and it seems, completely ignoring use the WFH crowds! I check the screen again, Miss Beauty Contest has turned her camera off. Thank goodness. But an other colleague is pensively chewing his pen and conscientiously marking papers, even looking up at the camera now and again, as if to say: 'No, it's OK, you're not disturbing me in the slightest. Carry on!' An other one is scrolling up and down on his iPad not even bothering to look up, engrossed as he is in the booking of his next holiday. ... And there's me still staring at the screen, not even bothering to fill in the chat box anymore. Still, I raise my glass and drink to my wonderful colleagues!