Come Again?

Term 1 inched one step nearer to a close the other day, with a staff seminar which I had signed up for only after carefully scrutinising all the paperwork to make sure that there was no mention of breakout groups, following last month’s debacle. With the Christmas holidays in sight, the select group of 12 participants were in high spirits. Not even the tragic absence of the usual coffee and buns could dampen the festive cheer.

As the afternoon’s aims were squeakily plotted out with a marker pen on the customary flipchart by the facilitator, a colleague began a whispered aside to me, but quickly gave up after getting a mouthful of curly hair, as I leant my ear to his lips in vain. Sensing a slight restlessness in the audience, the facilitator laid down his marker pen for a moment  and said, pointing to his bullet points,

“Are you all able to read that okay?”

Blimey, not even I’m that short-sighted, I thought, as I nodded my head compliantly from ten feet away.

“Are you saying that you think we all need glasses?” piped up an equally puzzled colleague with less inhibitions than me.

“Don’t be stupid, he’s just wondering how many of us actually know how to read”, piped up another to great snorts of laughter.

“That’s not what I meant,” sighed the facilitator, realising it was going to be a long couple of hours, “I was just wondering if you could read my handwriting”.

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