Pay Where Pay is Due

I'm a tad annoyed that I haven't as yet been paid for the Adult Ed tutoring I have delivered thus far. Last night I presented lesson number 5 of 11. After next week I shall be more than half way through the course. I was thinking, a couple of weeks ago when I was expecting to be paid, that I could start Christmas shopping with the extra money, especially as my bank account has become rather depleted of late with the purchasing of carpets and stuff for Chris and Leane's new flat, in which they are now happily settled.

But my Christmas shopping plan has been scuppered. So last night, before I launched into my teaching of poetry and writing frames, I went in search of someone who might be able to sort out payment for me. In my mind's eye I was going to come home with a pay cheque. In reality I came home with four Cox apples and an equal number of Kiwi fruit, which were, to give them their due, whoppers in the world of Kiwi.

'What's this?' said Andy, as I unloaded the fruit from my handbag. 'Apples for the teacher?'
'No,' I said. 'Leftovers from the Year 9 Focus Day - Making Smoothies.'
'Any luck with tracking down your pay?' said Andy.
'No,' said I. 'Unless I have inadvertently fulfilled the pay contract by accepting the gift of leftover apples and Kiwi fruit.'
'So did you speak to someone as you had planned?' said Andy.
'I did,' I said. 'But my plan failed at the point where I envisaged being presented a pay cheque for services rendered so far.'
'Oh dear,' said Andy.
'Oh dear indeed,' I agreed.

Apparently, the reason I wasn't paid last month was because the date for submitting pay requests has changed from something to something else because Payroll is now exported to an external agency who require all relevant paperwork before it can be filled in and submitted, like MONTHS and MONTHS ago, for retro-back dating or something or nothing or something, I don't know, I was lost at this point in the explanation, I was thinking, just give me a cheque. Or cold hard cash. Either is acceptable at the bank of moi.

'So when will you get paid for last month?' said Andy.
'At the end of this month, I think,' I said.
'And this month?'
'January...
'And December?'
'Somewhere around next Easter, if Easter falls in March,' I said, because all I really wanted to do by now was put the fruit in the bowl to stop Pandora playing fruit salad football with it overnight, and then settle with a cuppa and some birthday cake in front of Waterloo Road, that oh-so-true-to-life TV drama snapshot of education as it really is in 21st century Britain.

'Not much good for Christmas shopping,' said Andy.
'No,' I said. 'Unless we postpone Christmas until June.'

And then I got thinking about what life would be like for us chez Much Malarkey Manor by June next year. God willing, Baby Bug Grandaughter will have arrived safely in the world, hopefully the foundations of the Manor will have moved to the wild sticks of the countryside, I shall be settled into my new teaching job and looking forward to the summer hols, and my bank balance will once more be returned to such a healthy state I can once more treat myself to a refill of Chanel 19, and the occasional massage.

And maybe, just maybe, I might have made further progress up the steep hill of being a published writer. Maybe...