They say that behind every successful man there stands a woman. She’s usually giving him instructions. He’s usually only half listening.
It’s 6:30 on Wednesday morning. Murray and I are at the golf course. We’re under strict instructions to be finished and home by 11:30 as we are off to Adelaide this afternoon, and have to travel to Brisbane to catch the flight. Our respective spouses (spice?) have both packed and repacked their cases many times over the past few days, and are now going about their business this morning with that strange nervous tension that only the “truly prepared” can understand. Murray and I, on the other hand, reckon we can blitz a round of golf and still have plenty of time to throw a few things together before we leave.
You may be surprised to hear that we not only finished our game on time, but have finished our packing and rendezvoused well ahead of schedule. We’re in the car and on the way. Nanette and Jenny are speaking in stereo. “Did you pack some spare undies?” “Yess dear.” “What about a warm jacket?” “Yess dear” (Secretly noting the scorching hot day outside, but hey, no point in arguing.) “Did you check the back door is locked?” ………
Now we’re at the airport. The good news is we have cheap flights. The bad news is the flights are cheap because we’re flying on a dodgy airline that requires you to be in line, with everything exactly in order, two hours before the boarding time. Boarding passes – check. Bags fit into the little measuring thingy – check. Photo ID – er, photo ID? “What do you mean you must have left your wallet in the car? Didn’t I tell you to make sure you had everything?” Fortunately, the line is moving slow enough for our most senior member to dash back to the car park and return with the offending item. “Did you remember to relock the car?” “Yess dear.”
Now we’re in Adelaide. We have found the car hire place, collected the car, and successfully navigated to our accommodation in Glenelg. Ok, so we did rely heavily on the advice from the nice lady who lives inside Google Maps, but we made it here without any instruction from The Back Seat. Jenny has printed out the instructions for obtaining the key from the after hours locker. “Do you boys need me to come up with you?” “Nah, we got this.”
We find the indicated spot. There’s a technical looking box with a key symbol on front. Murray can’t open it. I can’t open it. We reread the instructions – well, actually part of the instructions but hey, nobody told us to read the other page. We’re stuck. Do we go back and confess to our wives? Saved! There’s a number that we can call. Ring, ring. “Hello, this is Lisa. How can I help you?”