The prospectus drop

Jenson woke with a start. His bedside clock said it was 6:39am. But what day was it? He hazard a guess at Thuenaday, so he dragged himself out of bed.

After eating more of his stockpiled pasta for breakfast, he sat down at his work laptop and struggled to remember his password.

What was his job anyway, he thought to himself. Something to do with outreach or payroll? Maybe he worked in security? He took a final punt at Head of School.

It had been almost 16 days since he was last in his office, and all he could remember were vague flashes of his colleagues’ faces.

After finding his password scribbled in Sharpie on his left hand, he prepared for his first Skype, or Zoom, or Hangout of the day. He couldn’t remember which software his university used, but nonetheless he made sure his camera cut off at his waist before his naked legs.

After waiting ten minutes with no calls, he stood up to go and make a fresh brew, but as he did he received a call from his Dean, which, for some reason, answered itself automatically.

The Dean’s face suggested that Jenson had been too late sitting down. “Balls”, they both said aloud. After a brief call, they agreed to talk again in an hour. There wasn’t really anything to discuss, but they needed to appear busy.

Just then, another call came through from the Head of Prospectus Fulfilment. She explained that the university had over ten thousand prospectuses in the stores, but with UCAS fairs cancelled they had to find innovative new ways to distribute them to prospective students.

It had been suggested that because Jenson had a light aircraft license, he could airdrop them over local towns and village. Jenson questioned as to whether this would be classed as essential travel, and the face on the other end of the call nodded sheepishly.

It was now Friurday, or maybe Sonday (who knew), and Jenson sat in his Cessna 172 at the end of Bantshire Airport runway, loaded up with five hundred prospectuses and five hundred mini parachutes.

Chocks away!

Twenty seven minutes later, Jenson was cruising at 12,000ft approaching Blackpool, Lancashire. This drop was planned to be 69 prospectuses, but as the plane banked left the bundle of remaining prospectuses - all 371 of them - tumbled out of the open door.

Bollocks, Jenson shouted down his radio.

Jenson landed twenty seven minutes later and turned on the TV. The news was showing live scenes as police were sealing off the area in front of the Tower.

The End.