A whole week in work and I’m still smiling!

Sorry I haven’t updated in so long. As I get more used to the working week I’ll be able to make more time for posting. For now I’m just happy to be in full time work. I love the job! It’s so very different to everything I’ve done up to now. There isn’t even a computer on the desk! How can they call this work if they don’t need me to use a mouse?

Just to fill you in on the details (Which will make all future stories make more sense), It’s my job to represent a building company which is renovating old social housing properties. To save money, the people remain inside the properties while they are being rewired, re-roofed and refurbished. These homes aren’t exactly stately and some of the people who live in them aren’t what you might call the cream of society. Public owned social housing exists as a safety net for people who are unable to buy or rent privately.

I’ve been assigned to a man called Russell, who’s a couple of years older than me and a lot more experienced in the ways of the world. A day spent with Russ is time well spent. He’s been around the block (metaphorically and literally) more than a few times and he’s opened my eyes to just how manipulative people can be when they think there might be a chance of making a claim for damages or compensation.

One of the first things we did was take a trip around the estate and drop off cards. These are just small notelets to introduce the company and ask the tenants to call head office and make an appointment for us to come around and explain things further. I took a few of the cards and went to drop them off.

Grime and Punishment

As soon as I’d got around the corner I knew something was wrong. The garden was a scrap heap of smashed up computer parts, old televisions and electric motors. There were rotting boxes and splintered crates scattered amongst the long grass. Half way up the garden path was a set of rusted railings that blocked my way. They were leaning, unfixed, with a hand painted sign – “Beware of the Dog”.

“Hello?” I called, a little timidly. The house was so run-down it was almost organic. Ivy had grown up the front, blocking out the light from most of the windows, which were so filthy it was hard to see through them. The front door was open, revealing a porch filled with trash , black bin bags and supermarket carriers overflowing with nameless grime.

“Hello?” Silence.

Perhaps I should step over the railing that barred my way? But if a dog decided to come after me, how long would it take me to get out? Perhaps I could just throw a card in the direction of the doorway and make a run for it? But what would be the point? In a house so full of old trash, it wasn’t as if they’d notice it.

It’s difficult to get across just how sinister the place seemed. I’m not a big believer in auras or vibrations, but the house just seeped a sense of quiet malice. The longer I stayed, the less I wanted to meet the occupants.

I chickened out. I turned tail and headed for Russell’s car.

Russell took the lead. I handed him the card and let him go first. Walking back up the path I actually think I hid behind him. “Hello?” He shouted, seemingly oblivious to the presence of evil.

A dog began barking. It sounded big. Its teeth sounded particularly sharp. I couldn’t help look at the lean-to iron fence and wonder if it would be strong enough. A long moment later, somebody appeared at the door. He was slight, at least fifty years old, with a wild shock of candyfloss white hair. He wore a biker’s outfit of blue jeans and a leather waste coat, all of which were stained and filthy.

“Hello there!” Russell smiled, confidently. “We’re from the construction company.”

“Hiya.” I said, weakly. Trying a grin that must have turned out looking like anything but convincing.

The man took the card from Russ like a squirrel with a nut, and regarded us through pale eyes which were buried deep in dark eye sockets. He flicked a biro constantly, his whole body in a perpetual state of nervous convulsion that made him sway like a marionette while his jaw worked furiously on what I think must have been gum. At least, I hope it was gum.

And that was that. Russell told him to ring the number on the card, and we left. I felt as if I were stepping out of a very dark building. When we got back onto the street, the air seemed fresher.

“There’s no way we’re going to let them work in there.” Russell told me. “We’ll get Housing on to it. But we’ll have to tell them to send more than one. There are two men in that house and I wouldn’t want the council to send a girl without an escort. It just wouldn’t be safe.”

I was going to ask him how he knew. But I played the whole scene over again in my head and just nodded.

Buying principles

A couple of days later I had been called in to see a couple of tenants in sheltered accommodation. This is where the council puts its most vulnerable people, usually after retirement. It’s what I always used to refer to as “Pensioner Flats”.

My brief was simple enough: The construction company had dropped a large container on their front garden that would become the rest building for the workmen. It was my job to deal with the resident’s objections and get them to agree to it being there, even though it filled the view from their living room windows, was bright yellow and blocked out all the natural light, I somehow had to persuade them that it would be a good idea to let it stay. To assist me in this, I had a budget of £300.

The conversation went something like this.

ME – Exactly what is it about this that’s upsetting you?
OLD LADY – Well, it’s there out of the window. I can’t see out. It’s just a yellow wall.
ME – Well, we’re very sorry for the inconvenience. We can understand it must be upsetting for you.
OLD LADY – And it blocks out all the light. There won’t be any summer sunshine.
ME – I can see that, although it will be gone by May.
OLD LADY – And it makes the room dark.
ME – Well, the company is happy to compensate you for that. How about a bit of extra money for letting them keep it here? It should offset your extra lighting cost, at least.
OLD LADY – It’s not the money. Money doesn’t mater. This is about the principle of the thing.
ME – Oh, I see. I understand. It’s just that I’ve been authorised to offer you up to a hundred pounds.
OLD LADY – A hundred? Oh, that would be fine, love. Would you like a cup of tea?

Alan Bennett would be so proud.