a toastmistress i am not

Last week was particularly revolting in that I had to present to who various Marie Celeste management-types like to refer to as our most important client (and who are considering becoming not our client).

You may recall that I do not present at all – ever, and unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I was somewhat unnerved (even just a little harrowed).

I like to tell myself that I can speak perfectly well from a bullet pointed list of notes, but sadly this is a filthy lie. You’d think I would have learned from my presentation skills course, but you’d be thinking wrong.

So after our pre-meeting run-through, in which I was complete and utter shit when I tried to present from the list (despite the assurances that I was fine1), I had to run to my desk and write everything out in complete sentences and get down exactly what I was going to say.

Whereupon, to my extreme relief, I performed pretty well – almost perfectly.

I’m rather relieved it is all over and I can return to my normal state of freaking out about the regular day-to-day hellishness at Marie Celeste.

As we all know, I’ve been a quite suckful blogger, so I probably have failed to mention that I recently had a big chat to Dishy Boss about my future and my dissatisfaction/boredom with certain tasks (and how anxious mum was oftentimes driving me bat shit crazy) and we agreed that when things settled a little, I should have a mental health week (primarily because that is exactly what I did not have over Christmas), and next week is that week. Huzzah!

There will be bludging! And sloth! And sleeping!

And probably some craft! and cooking! and shopping (in thrift stores!)

And possibly even some mental health week live-blogging (I did say possibly).

1After I performed pretty well, everyone admitted that I was ever-so-slightly, just a wee smidge complete and utter shit on the run through.

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