Once upon a time, not too far from here, just down the road, right at the roundabout, and down a bit there lived a troll called Mrs Webb. No. Delete. Go back. There lived a troll called Mrs Plant.
She was a grumpy old troll who hated children, which was ironic really as she worked in a school. But this was no ordinary school. No no no. It was a school for pixies. Some with round ears, some with pointy ears, but all very well behaved. They showed the troll they could behave by showing her good sitting and showing her good listening.
Despite her grumpy nature the troll was very fond of the pixies and they adored her.
On this particular day the troll checked her accounts. She waited. She checked them again. Surely that wasn’t right, she was good at maths. She checked one more time. Nope, she was right. There was more going out of her account than going in. She couldn’t increase her hours at school, there just weren’t anymore to have. She was already invigilating twice a year but that wasn’t regular enough. And of course there was the moths tutoring.
The troll enjoyed tutoring moths. If she could do that all day every day, she would. They were always keen and wanted to do well but there are only so many hours in a day to tutor moths, they had other things to do, just as the troll did. No, the time has come to go on a job hunt. Going to catch a big one. It’s a beautiful day. She’s not scared, well not much anyway.
Ideally the new job would have school hours so she could carry on working with the moths. They didn’t have long left; she didn’t want to let them down. But still she needed to work more than the 12 hours she was currently doing.
And so, reluctantly, she turned on her PILL (Properly Illuminated Little Laptop – you’d call it a tablet I guess) and searched the interweb. The troll didn’t like surfing, she could lose whole days and not have anything to show for it, but she would have to be strong today and surf with a purpose. She had come to the conclusion that if she was going to change job, she may as well change direction completely, leave schools but what can she do? Between living under bridges and meeting Mr Plant she had been a builder, an aroma therapist, a contracts administrator, a data inputter – THE most BORING job in the world. But most recently she had been in charge of riot control, including keeping order and frisking. She’d found some real treasure whilst frisking but that’s for another day.
She wouldn’t mind building again but the dwarves put her off plus she hadn’t done it for a while. She still had her therapy stuff but that had lost its mojo years ago. Data? Boring and none local. Contracts administration? Been out the game too long. There were younger creatures doing that now, who had more experience and qualifications. Nope. She was stuck doing what she does. Stuck in schools.
Hold the phone! What’s this? An advert for an admin assistant in an elf school. She could do that! The job description lists everything she does now at pixie school. She applied for it.
Weeks later the troll had a call from the school asking if she’d come in for a chat. She turned up in plenty of time. Sat chatting with a gent also waiting and pretty much did as she was told, when she was told to do it. She was ushered into a small cupboard where she pulled a chair out from under a desk. “No, not there” the voice behind her said. “I’m sitting there. We’d like you to sit on that chair there” the body attached to the voice pointed. The troll squinted. Over the other side of the cupboard stood the tiniest of chairs. In fact she was sure it was a reject from the doll’s house factory down the road. As she lowered her huge bottom onto it she heard a heart stopping crack, but ignored it and smiled as if nothing had happened.
Our troll was asked lots of questions of little importance like, “who’s your favourite colour?” by The Voice and the trolls Would-be Boss. Until finally, she was asked about her current role. “Ham, no currents” said the troll.
“Excuse me?” replied The Voice.
“I don’t like currents, so just ham in my roll please. Oh and coleslaw if you have it, potato salad if not. Thanks.”
“You misunderstood” The Voice said sharply as she rolled her disapproving eyes whilst tilting her nose in the air. “Tell us about your current role, the job you do at the moment.”
This was like therapy for the troll. She told them about Bob, Basil, Jibe, and DeNero. Especially DeNero. About how she felt undervalued, she was just making the numbers up, treated like a second class employee, how she just didn’t want to be there anymore but still wanted to work and to contribute to society.
She knew as she left that the job wasn’t hers. She’d heard the parting comment before. It went something like “it’s a shame you’re so unhappy where you are, but this vacancy has nothing to do with the elves. You have so much useful and worthwhile experience with elves and pixies, it would be such a shame to just throw that expertise away. Don’t call us, we’ll call you”
They didn’t ring, they wrote instead. ‘On this occasion you were unsuccessful. Please don’t apply for any other vacancies for at least six months as you’re pretty unforgettable and it will take us that long to get over our last meeting. Thank you for your interest in our school.’
“Balderdash” thought the troll. Wrapped herself in her blankie and sat in the corner until she felt better.
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