One of those days

What an utterly miserable day!  It was so miserable, it may well have been a Monday, but it wasnt, it was infact a Thursday.  The day started like any other day really and everything seemed to be ticking along at a reasonably normal pace until my son opened the car door outside his school in readiness to clamber out. 

 Instead of the usual, "Bye Mum, love you", I heard "Mum, where is my lunchbox"?

 I silently cursed to myself but outwardly smiled at my beloved as I didnt want to upset him for the day and said "No worries, I`ll pop back home for it - you go in now and I`ll drop it into the office in a little while for you".

Managing 0 - 60mph in under five seconds, I pointed the car in the direction of home, cursing loudly as the realisation hit me that I would not have time to "put my face on" in the car whilst parked up in the carpark at work, as I was now going to be late after the frantic lunchbox drop-off. 

Work did not improve my mood.  Several stressful incidents irritated me to the point of combustion and it was with a huge sigh of relief when the clock struck three.

I drove the five minute journey to my son`s school, the windows and sunroof open allowing the breeze to cool me down.  The radio was playing chronic sounds, so I drove in silence, a welcome break from the constant chatter and obscenities I endured in my workplace.  Relaxing in my car for a few treasured moments, the sun beating down on my face, slowly I began to unwind.  I parked the car a short walk from the school gates but even-so felt my legs and feet could not manage one more step when I eventually entered the playground.  In a few moments the children drifted out of the school building and I waved, almost energetically, at my son who was standing by his teacher straining to see me amongst the other mothers in the crowded playground.  Once he had reached me we hugged, asked each other how our day had been and walked slowly back to the car.

When you are so tired and fatigued it can take a while for something to register and this was the case as I pointed the fob with the keys attached, at my car.  I looked at it in confusion.  It didnt look right.  Then it struck me.  The back had come off it exposing a tiny spring and nothing else. 

 "Oh No" I thought, frantically trying to make sense of this latest mishap in my life. 
 "I cant open the car!" 
 After explaining the situation to my son, we began to re-trace my steps.  Nothing! 
Once again I entered the playground which by now was somewhat deserted except for the chatty mothers who stood around in groups talking about absolutely nothing of any interest to anyone but themselves and their boring friends.  I spotted the black back to the fob fairly quickly and was even more relieved when my son excitedly found the glinting battery nearby.  We both sighed a massive sigh of relief and once again trundled back to the car.  After placing the battery in the fob and screwing the back into place I pointed the fob in the direction of the car again and ....nothing!

"What now?"
 my anger and heat exposure symptoms were beginning to surface. My hands were sweaty, my fingers unable to grip the fob as I tried to unscrew the back of it.  Thinking that I may need to turn the battery over in order for it to work, it was imperative that I open the fob; eventually the awkward task was done.  It was then blatantly obvious to me that the device actually needed two batteries. Damn!

Deflated and totally exhausted with the searing heat of the afternoon sun, we headed back once again to the playground.  "How stupid can I be?" I silently berated myself.  My flagging son was beginning to show signs of dehydration as we searched once more in the dusty patch where we had found the first battery. 
 Nothing! Nothing but dried grass, pebbles, the odd twig and parched soil. 

After-school football had finished and some of my son`s friends came to join us on our quest for the missing battery.  One of the mothers whom I had known for some time and formed a reasonably friendly relationship with, offered to help search and after a while suggested we go into town where I could buy some more batteries for the damn fob.  With no bag, no purse, no energy and no money, I was reluctant to do so but finally accepted her kind offer of a short-term loan and a lift into town.  As my son`s lips now resembled the surface of the moon, I realised the futility of our search and felt an uncomfortable realisation that I might be abusing my child.

I leapt from the vehicle, stumbled out is probably the correct description, and headed forthwith into the retail store that we all know and recognise as Halfords.  A man stood at the till discussing the life story of his motor car so I headed for the first assistant I could see who wasnt doing anything, which wasnt too difficult.  The young girl seemed only too happy to help and soon had the necessary batteries in her hand.  After paying for them I asked if she would kindly put them into the fob for me as I had shut my glasses in the car, along with everything else I needed at that time.  As she reached for the fob a woman, standing alongside her, who I had not noticed previously, stated in that tone that simulates running ones` fingers down a blackboard "No, she cant do that!"  I looked at her in total disbelief.  "I beg your pardon?" I responded, in a tone that simulates blood boiling.  "Head Office have said we arent to change batteries no more cos of the sulphur in em", she eloquently informed me.  I was ready to smack her, really hard!  I quickly explained the fact that my specs were locked inside my car, making me as blind as a bat and also gave her a brief account of the past hour and a half of my life.  "Nope"!  she wasnt going to shift, "Head Office.........blah blah blah". 
 I coaxed and urged the eastern european assistant to please do what I had asked, and to ignore the irritating "jobsworth" who was still spouting policies at me.
I made sure to thank the young lady for her assistance and refusing to explosively react to the woman`s verbal ranting, left the shop hotter than a burning furnace.

At last, after nearly two hours, we pulled onto the drive, unlocked the front door and headed for the fridge.

To add salt to the wound, a red flag to my bull etc; two days later I received my mobile phone bill and was infuriated to find that I had been billed £9.00 for the two calls I made to Morrisons` (to ask if they sold the batteries for my fob) and to Halfords to ensure they had them in stock! What a cruel world!