Myself and A are back home now. The season is over. Both of us are going to do an end of season round up type blog in the next couple of days (well I certainly am, next season will have probably started by the time A gets round to doing one) but for now I wanted to focus on a late arriving character that I have not yet mentioned on here.
Late in the season we were informed by our manager, a very nice, funny Scottish man, that a colleague that had just left was to be replaced by a guy called 'William McTavish'. A real Scottish name if ever there was one. Speculation was rife and there was even a rumour that the Boss had drafted in one of his very own caber tossing, kilt wearing, sporran sporting, ginger bearded cousins to join the team.
The day of Mr McTavish's arrival was upon us and we grouped at the coach drop of point to meet him. The coach doors opened and holiday makers poured off into the sunshine, looking up at the mountain and wondering why they had been lied to by their tour operators and told that they were going on a skiing holiday.
I continued to look towards the door but the smell of haggis just wasn't coming... No tartan. No shortbread. The sound of bagpipes started to seem like mere fantasy. Inexplicably I began to get extremely thirsty for an Irn Bru.
Out of nowhere a very well presented young man of Korean descent with a hairpiece that seemed to have been stolen from a large lego man came up to us and said, 'Hello, I'm Will.' We each said hello back and did our introductions, turns out his name wasn't McTavish and he definitely wasn't Scottish, the Boss had just had one too many fried Mars Bars on the day he told us who was coming and got the Scotch form of verbal diarrhoea.
Will then proceeded to tell us the following, 'I've done a season before, I'm here to do another, I can't wait to get to work, I'm absolutely shattered!' I thought this was quite a noble introduction until I found out he was playing that game where you tell people a load of stuff about yourself and then you have to figure out which single fact is the only piece of truth in the whole spiel. Truth was, little Willie was just 'absolutely shattered'.
So to cut a long story short, Willie, my new flat mate had lied about doing a season previously to his mums friend, the owner of our company, in order to get himself a cheap and easy ski holiday at the end of the season. Over the next 3 weeks, management tried very hard to get in touch with the owner of the company to get permission to fire William. During this time he managed to miss 80% of breakfast shifts, lie in bed for a week with a sore throat but get up each day to go into town for lunch with his friend, serve meat for dinner with no vegetables to guests, say the word 'shattered' a whopping 114 times and use 3 tubs of Garnier Maximum Hold Hair putty.
Finally the Boss was given the go ahead and Willie was given the boot. When asked for his comments on the situation the Boss told us he 'felt like Alan Sugar getting rid of the little maggot' except for him it wasn't 'with regret' but with 'overwhelming pleasure'.
When McTavish was asked for his thought he simply replied that he was 'absolutely shattered'.
