Monday morning is always a bad morning. Who likes them? No one in full time employment does, for sure. Or at least, not anyone who just works to live, as opposed to living for work. When Monday morning comes, the worst place to go to has to be somewhere we would be reminded all day how bad it must feel to come back after the week-end. Somewhere most people don't work when you do, somewhere full of people devious enough to remind you of it all the time. Somewhere haunted by cheeky heartless individuals who no longer work maybe? Let's say somewhere like a retirement home? And this is just where I work… my Monday mornings are systematically… dreadful! Don't get me wrong, I like my job. I like most pensioners I deal with. Some are funny, cheeky, witty, shy, smiley or nosy, casual or serious, loud or quiet, grumpy or compromising, old-fashioned or really modern. But a few of them are nasty, rude or vicious, some are true bullies, forming gangs lead by a tyrannous leader, behaving like the spoilt kids they never were!
To build up the courage to face the start of the new week I switch the TV on, grab a left over slice of pizza from last night, and settle in front of GMTV. Jalapeno and pepperoni pizza, even better cold than warm! So much nicer to swallow than a bowl of healthy Weetabix. I then realize I am behind, get up in a rush, head straight for the bathroom, switch the shower on while brushing my teeth and continuing watching TV, dribble some toothpaste onto the carpet, jump under the shower quickly, and out again, dry my hair and select at random some almost-dry underwear (why can't I remember to put the washing on before Sunday evening?).
I then jump in some jeans, button them up, take them off again to choose a light peach dress and a linen jacket. This will cut short residents' comments on my so-called lack of professionalism and interest in the running of their home.
Their home, as if! They think they own the place because they live in it, but if it belongs to anyone, it's certainly not them.
The landlord is a rich, unscrupulous heir who has never had to work for a living - someone else who probably enjoys Monday mornings! He owns the freehold of this nice but old (and in need of repair) Edwardian mansion while the lease belongs to an old widow from Somerset. She decided to move back to the West Country when her husband passed away. Had it not been for him, she wouldn't have left her childhood home in the first place. The rent she receives from the building allows her to run a 15-bedroom manor house with stables without needing to worry about the sanity of the business. Not needing to make any profit from the estate, she manages a friendly hippie-like business based around horse riding and bio farming. She invited the residents to visit her last year, and let them sample the organic food she produces. She received so many comments on the laughable size of the vegetables and unexpected shape of the fruits that she increased the price of the rent by 10 percent the following month. Or was it the other way round?
The business itself belongs to "Golden Years Ahead", a large not-non-profit-making company that runs retirement homes, trying to obtain maximum profit from old people's pensions. The pensioners happen to live there, that's all.