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Better get a lawyer, son, better get a real good one
Yay me! Stood (not literally) my ground.
Engagement morning tea for Fluffy Wuffy, the editor turned up for that (free feed). And the actual boss of the show.
After the crackers and cake, we had the usual staff meeting.
"Why did no-one tell me I was going to have to work for three weeks on my own? Why didn't anyone ask me whether I was well enough to do this? Why do you just assume I'll do it?"
"Oh, ha ha, stress is good for you," says the editor, who turned up looking like he was auditioning for the part of "homeless alcoholic".
"No," I said. "It's not. The lawyer I spoke to said if stress and unfair work practices cause my MS to worsen, then I might be able to sue."
(Not that I would, impossible to prove.)
No more ha-haing.
"I'll come to work next week and help," he said.
"Thank you," I said.
"Now, (on a roll now), I do know you (Fluffles) have a second job as a teacher's aide at your husband-to-be's school for two days a week..."
"I didn't know that," says visiting boss.
"... but it's school holidays all month, surely you could help out and work an extra day or two when our editor is away? Or did no-one ask you?"
No-one asked her. "Well, we're going to have to sort this out."
Many apologies all round and an encouraging, "We really don't want to lose you."
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