another excruciating evening of training (lyn)

I’m up at school all morning helping to prepare for the upcoming Benefit.  The work I’m doing is pretty mindless (seems to be a common theme of late), but at least I’m doing it with other parents, all of whom I like.  The highlight of the day is lunch.  A WeightWatchers member must have done the ordering.  Either that, or one of the stick-thin-totally-fit moms who seem to come by it naturally.  Lunch is a buffet of:  mixed salad with tomatoes, a large choice of grilled vegetables (onions, asparagus, red and yellow peppers, and zucchini), grilled chicken, and chocolate chip cookies for dessert (these are hard to resist but I do).  I have two, guilt-free healthy servings of everything. 

I leave early and am home by three-fifteen.  Just enough time to visit my neighbor and her two kids, do a few emails, and return some calls.  A quick hour later and I'm already thinking about dinner.  Something I usually don't do in the middle of the afternoon.   SInce I need to leave by 5:15, I opt for easy and fast:  tuna on a brioche roll (again) and 14 Pringle-lights.

I get to class and again, more forms to review and more examples of situations that might happen in North Dakota but would never happen in Manhattan.  Our leader begins the evening by saying, “Tonight we are going to be discussing WOO-EES.  That is, Whole Household Usual Home Elsewhere.”  This leads to a mind-numbing two-hour explanation on the subject.  Our husky, ex-lawyer-ex-Wall-Street-baritone –voiced leader doesn’t even smile when he has to say WOO-EE.  Even a grown man has to know how ridiculous this sounds. 

Around eight, break time is announced, “Ten minutes, and I’m going to begin my stopwatch now.”  Finally we get to put the forms aside and ready ourselves for a discussion on safety.  This is an exact quote from our employee handbook:

“Wear comfortable walking shoes.  These shoes may come in handy should there be a need to run.”  Really.  Who is writing this stuff?

Before things have a chance to get too dull again, a woman raises her hand and asks, “What if we get stuck in an elevator?  Do we still get paid for that time?”

I come home and want to cry.