Today I decided that all my self tought computer skills were missing the one thing that would make me computer literate, cohesion. So off I went to the local technical college to sign up for an "over the hills" IT course. Well the frosty faced nineteen year old "customer liason executive" explained in words of one syllable that they dont have any courses suitable for me only degrees or specialist ones (I cant see me spending time on a graphics package under tuition, I would just buy it and learn to use it, ish) as for a degree course one is too old at thirty for IT let alone sixty one with half a brain. So I progress further and sit at a compbox in the library, on the internet, for a while and ask a few questions of the very helpful French lady, as to whether or not she knows of any computer courses held in the area. She checked up with her fellow librarians and I was furnished with an addres not too far away from the library, so off I go.
It is being held in a set of offices over a carpet shop. I duly find said carpet shop and low and behold the courses are being held by the same college that I approached earlier, (why couldnt they have directd me here ?)
As the offices were previously used by the department of stealth and total obscurity, the offices are locked althoughI can see through the small fireproof glass panels in the doors that there are people sitting at compboxes with their backs to me. Ah! these are the classrooms I think to myself, and progress on to the next floor looking for the registration office, only to find that these offices are locked too so up to the top floor I go and sure enough the office is open so I enter.
A nice lady asks if she can help, and I explain what I am here for and she directs me down to the floor where the students are. (It is worthy of note at this juncture that she was nothing to do with the two floors below) I explained that they were locked and she said it was unusual... but to "tap on the door and wave at anybody that looks at you and just generally make yourself heard" so back down to the compbox room I go... and approach the pair of doors which look like something out of a Bank, with massive locks and wide strips of metal over the joints and a bell push which I had no luck with before. I tap on the door gently, nothing........ I peer through the glass waving politely and still no one pays attention to me. I ring the bell again and nothing!!!! Now I am getting really Pissed off !!! don`t they want my custom??????
I step back from the door and begin to think that I didn`t really want a computer course any way, never having been a "quitter", I start again but a bit more determind. I bang respectably on the door and again I look through the glass and nothing, I ring the bell for a full minute and still the people keep typing at their respective compboxes, so in frustration I step back place my bag on the floor and kick the door with my size 10 boots, it was just as well that the door had all that hardware on it as (ask any door that I have kicked...) most doors would have wimpered into submission ( but not this one) and I would now have in my possesion at this moment a bill for the repair.
Now all the backs have turned round and are facing me through the small glass windows, suddenly from stage left, the same customer service executive from the college earlier appears and waves me in with a twisting signal with her right hand. As I lipread (being more than a little deaf from the mis- use of firearms in my youth) I notice that she was saying " turn the handle and pull the door" which I did and it opened (I had taken it for granted that it was locked and opened inwards, the bell being the clincher that it was locked). Wellllll! didnt I feel silly! now everybody is looking at me and miss frostyface has beaten me down to the training place just to humilliate me, well I`ll show her! I boldly step in to the classroom forgetting about my bag who`s handle has managed to rap itself around my legs stopping any forward motion on my part, and I crash through the now open door ending up in a heap in front of Miss frostyface, much to the hillarity of the whole of the class.
I recover my posture halfway through Miss frostface apologising for not telling me about this class, and ask meekly how I could join this class. With a wry smile and her frost thawing she smiled sweetly saying "know how to open a door would help maybe" So in one hundred and twenty hours I will be IT man of the year.........................not :o)))