Take A Letter, Miss Jones

Yesterday Line Manager asked me (quite hesitantly, as it was not my turn) if I would take the minutes of the team meeting we were both about to attend. Now I have an issue with the term "team meeting" as I believe this terminology breaches the Trades Descriptions Act. A team is (according to the Collins English Dictionary) "a group of people organised to work together". Whereas our particular group contains people who seem to spend their entire working day bitching, sniping, griping, and festering with resentful jealousy. But hey - let's not get picky.

While continuing to stare at my screen and tap at my keyboard, I uttered the useful noise which stands me in good stead when I am playing for time. 'Mmmmmmmmm...?' is an elongated expression of enquiry, lifted in its final seconds by an interrogative octave. Line Manager mumbled something about me having missed my turn on a previous occasion. Me: 'that's entirely possible'. 'So you'll do it then?' he responded hopefully, unable to believe it could possibly be that easy. I looked up and smiled sweetly. 'Yes, of course'.

About a year ago, I was on the point of giving a presentation to an august gathering of senior officers including the Chief Executive. I was the only woman in the room and by far the most junior. Suddenly the door opened and the Chief Exec's secretary came in with a tray of teas, put it down in front of me, and said 'would you mind handing those round?'

Aaaaarrrgggghhhhhh.

Whatever happened to sisterhood, hon?

On that particular occasion, my passive-aggressive response consisted of banging every single cup down on the table without putting  it on a coaster (I think the Chief Exec's table still bears a number of pale circular scars as a result). Yesterday, however, I think I subverted expectations rather successfully! I got up from my desk a good ten minutes before the meeting, and made sure I arrived at the meeting room in plenty of time, paper and pen in hand. I also sat down right next to Line Manager even though our relationship is currently akin to that of a messily separating couple (him shouting at me in front of junior colleagues was the final straw which sent me hotfoot to the divorce lawyers).

I then sat for ninety minutes industriously making notes. Which was quite handy when Remora started her screeching Witch of Endor act, as it allowed me to look down so my fiery eyes bored smouldering holes into the paper instead of into her head. (I had better not leave the notes lying around, as when I looked over them afterwards I saw that I had written 'lunatic shrieking' and 'tedious ramble' instead of the words people had actually uttered).

Line Manager actually thanked me for taking the minutes.

'No problem', I replied. 'No problem'.