Unfortunately for me, I was unable to turn around and leave as my Mum was behind me pushing me through the obscene purple door. Ironically, the work experience was intended to be a step towards independence, but I had ended up with my Mum tagging along to introduce me.
After being marched up a series of stairs and through a long breezeblock passageway, we were greeted by an excessively cheery man. Standing there, overshadowed by my Mum and this man (currently engaging in sickening small-talk), I was suddenly hit by the impression that this was a man more eager to please his visitors than I was eager to leave. This notion startled me and I began wondering what type of psychopath I had been forced, by some sadistic twist of fate, into the company of.
“So your name is Samantha, huh?”
I promptly realised I had spent the last five minutes day dreaming whilst staring at a brown smudge on my shoe. Looking up I glanced at the ‘Psycho’ who was gazing intently at me.
“Um… yeh?” I answered, fiddling with my bag strap.
“Great! Well, how about I take you and your social worker on a quick tour?”
My stomach gave a sickening lurch as my brain raced into overtime. I felt entirely insulted and confused- what sort of teenage delinquent did he think I was? I had no idea what to say, instead I prayed the ground would open up and swallow me whole. Before I could do anything stupid, I heard my mum laughing and announcing that he was mistaken and she was my Mum, here for moral support. As I lifted my eyes to see his reaction, I saw him glance at me with a look that was reminiscent of pity; showing that he thought I was obviously some sad little child who couldn’t stand on her own two feet. I didn’t know which was worse- being a teenage delinquent or a sad little Mummies girl; either way I was still insulted.
After a quick tour, my Mum made a hasty exit and I was ushered into a bright, modern, spacious yet horribly empty room. ’Psycho’ then waved a cheery goodbye and disappeared. Gazing around, four computer screens stared blankly at me and I was about to conclude that I had indeed been abandoned by the ‘Psycho’, that was until a frantic waving caught my eye. I turned to see a small older man pumping his arm back and forth. This was an obvious attempt at gaining my attention from behind the precariously stacked towers of paper resting on the desk in front of him. However, I was by this point completely terrified and all I could do was stare at him.
“Hi! I’m new here too! I’m only a temp, as everyone’s off on holiday or sick. Typical, huh?!”
“Yes, typical..?” I answered unsure of what else to say.
That was when the phone began its impatient yelps.
“Got to get this, excuse me...?”, said the small man. I noticed due to his questioning eyes he was expecting my name, I answered with a slight hesitance, ”Me? I’m Sammie.”
“Well Sammie, welcome to Transport.”
As the small man, I still did not know his name, answered the phone, another began ringing. I waited for an answering machine or something to kick in stopping the ringing but it continued. At this point, the small man signalled for me to answer it. I was shocked, five minutes in the door, without any details of what transport did I was expected to answer the phone? Okay someone laugh - this had to be a joke!! But I could tell by small man’s insistent waving that I was required, for real, to answer the phone.
Oh God. I took in a couple steadying breath and began to reach out my hand for the phone. I suddenly realised, as the receiver was aligned with my mouth, that I had no clue what to say. Using the small amount of initiative that I lay claim to, I said the first thing that I deemed relative,” Hello, this is Fife Council Transport Services. Can I help?”
The caller was obviously surprised by my voice answering his call. This was apparent by the awkward silence, which he broke by stuttering’ “Big Tam? He there?”
I repeated the caller’s request over and over trying to make sense of it. Big Tam? No, the request held no significance to me at all. Realising I had better reply to the caller; I said in my most professional voice, “Could you hold on and I’ll find out where they are…” I punched the glowing secrecy button before the caller had a chance to answer. I attempted to gain an answer for the caller, by waving at the small man, who had subsequently finished his call. “Um excuse me, sir?”
He looked out from behind the stacks of paper, “Yes?”
“Is, um, Big Tam around?”
“Big Tam? OH! Tom?”
“Right” I said, more than a little confused, why hadn’t the caller asked for Tom? “Is Tom around?”
“Tom is the man who showed you around earlier.”
“Yes but is he around now?” I asked perplexed at the small man’s avoidance of answering the question.
“Just take a message.”
Okay, take a message. Take a message. Mentally psyching myself up, I reached out, picked up the phone and clicked the secrecy button off.
“Can I take a message?” I enquired frantically searching for a pen and piece of paper.
“So he’s not there?”
“No, he wouldn’t be…that’s why I’ll take a message and give it to him!” I looked around in desperation, but I received no moral support or help. I noted the small man was back on the phone. I realised the caller hadn’t answered so I enquired again, more assertively. “Can I take a MESSAGE? Please!”
“Nah, it’s okay lass I’ll call later.” The phone line went dead. I could have cried. In exasperation, I threw down the pen I had found and poised ready to take a message.
Then the phone rang again. Without realising, I had snatched it up and was practically barking a refined version of the greeting I had said before.
This was how my hour, my day, my week went on. Call after call, after call. I can still hear the ringing; ring-ring, ring-ring…