Tugging the forelock!
by Pseud O'Nym
A few moments ago, Marge received a ‘phone call from one of the owners of this house, that only underlined their sense of entitlement and expectation. They’re so used to people jumping through their hoops, to getting their own way, that even at a time like this, even at a time of an ongoing and worsening national emergency, it’s still a shock for them not to have the usual response, that of immediate compliance.
Some background might be useful here.
A couple of years ago now, the previous owners indicated their intention to put this house up for sale. For various reasons, Marge wasn’t impressed by this, but remembered that people she vaguely knew and lived nearby, had always liked this house, and told them of this. Long story short, they bought it, but as the new owners wife had just got a job with a grace and favour home thrown in – you know you’re doing well when employers throw in a house to seal the deal! – they wouldn’t take possession of this for some time. Which, we discovered last December, was to be December 31st this year.
Anyway, back to today. After the usual pleasantries, well as pleasant as pleasantries can be at the moment, she got to the point of her call. A workman was due to replace the windows on the front of the house and has built the windows. Could he come and fit them, only she’s worried that he might go out of business before he fits them. So she wants to fit us up, so he can fit them? I mean she does there’s a bit of a thing going on now? Of course she does! A lodger in their house has the coronavirus and is in isolation.
She works somewhere that in ordinary times would be less onerous, more of a title than a job, one to impress your friends, if your friends are the sort of people who’d be impressed by that. But now she has to do actual work, the kind of work that’s technically in the job description, but she never did. Until now.
She then followed this humdinger with wondering if it’d be possible for someone to come and do something to one of our garden walls. She does realise that the government is advising people to stay at home? She knows we’re self-isolating so we’re making use of the garden, so in what fucking universe does she think we would want someone turning our garden into a building site.
Oh, her worry about losing the money she’s spent on the windows? Her husband is a barrister who earns £500 an hour. My heart bleeds.