Of course, beating the end of school year stress and dealing with teenagers more and more restless and daydreaming about their Summer holidays was not ice-cream and cookies (that's the July and August version of " wine and roses " ), but nothing compared to the stack of papers to mark by, most of the time, the day-before-yesterday deadline.
Overnight hundreds of papers stormed my desk, and years after, I still don't know how I managed not to be buried and die chocked under a pile of those written sheets !
All throughout the month of June I was like a bear with a sore head ! My main concern was to keep unbiased after the umpteenth same mistake , and to bottle up the mounting pressure Inside.
Yet, years after years, I kept accepting that nerve-racking exercise,cause, I must confess, the pay-cheque at the end was the key to an early Summer spending spree (by then,the sales were in full swing !).
So, of course, one year when I received a phone-call from the Ministry of Finance asking me if I could mark the English part of one of their closed competitions, I accepted immediately.
First, because it was a juicy income booster, and then, the idea that , for once, the roles were reversed, and I was the one who would scrutinize the tax-collectors' scripts and track down the error, was somehow quite satisfying !
I guess none of you will blame me for that petty feeling of revenge !
It turned out that their demands and marking criteria were as many as the lines on tax-returns !
Even worse, their marking scheme supposed to make things as easy as
ABC was actually a real headache !
But after all, the payment per script was pretty attractive, and no pain, no gain !!
Three weeks later, my 300 exam papers were marked , tied and packed into cardboard boxes so heavy that Dearhubby had to give me a lift to the Ministry of Finance.
All was well that ended well : in a few minutes I would be able to enjoy deserved Summer holidays!
Then, you know the last thing that went through my mind ?
When the tax-officer handed me the " reward ", instead of saying thank you, I asked :
" Is that declared ? "
The man turned as white as a sheet, and myself as red as a beetroot !
Not enough colours to make a rainbow, but enough to remember to think twice before speaking, especially in the tax-collector's den, cause that's a place where anything you say can and will be used against you !
Well, our little day-trip is over. I hope you enjoyed it.
Have a nice week, and for my French readers, fabulous fireworks, parades and balls !
And don't forget : be perky !