What can I say? I'm deeply unimpressed by this working for a living lark.
It means I have to get up in the morning! Not only that, but there are two 6.30s in my day! Appalling. I mean fancy having to be up, and thanks to the change of seasons, before the sun? No more sleeping in, rolling out of bed at 9, maybe 10 o'clock. No more wandering around in my pink fluffy dressing gown and getting clean and dressed a few hours later. No more casual surfing on my favourite blogs and waiting to see what response my comments get. No more staring at my navel, Facebook, the garden, the Cat and my To Do List.
They expect me to turn up on time! What is it with these employers who expect people they've paid (reasonable) money and expect me to arrive at the same time every morning? Unreasonable. Everyone knows my time keeping is hampered by my West Indian heritage and my Pagan beliefs. I arrange all of my social activities with an 'ish' attached to the time agreed. Depending on my level of organisation that day, that 'ish' could be up to half an hour. Also, also, get this...they expect me to stay all day. Bitch please. Why would I want to be in one place that isn't my bed, for the whole day?
Not only that, they insist I be smartly dressed. Now I'm not opposed to dressing up, as well you, my loyal readers will know. But I'm a woman of extremes. I'm either comfortable in jeans and trainers or dressed by Karen Millen. My employers expect me to wear skirts, trousers and proper shoes. My less-than-sociable habit of having the odd unwashed day has had to be relegated to the weekends.
That leads me to my other major complaint about working Monday to Friday, 9 to 5.30. How the hell am I supposed to fit in my other necessary appointments? Like getting my hair done and the essential wax? Not to mention coffees in my favourite deli, 103. When am I going to be able to fit in going to the cinema in the afternoon with the Great Ursus and his Lovely? There goes our leisurly lunches in the Turkish cafe. Not to mention being able to call in and annoy Dave...he gets busier at the weekends seeing his new grandbaby and saving souls. It means if I want to do Yoga or a martial art I have to do it after work.
It's ridiculous. It really is. My employers want me to be pleasant. Both to their clients and to my colleagues. If you work, do tell me how you've mastered this art. I'm genuinely interested. I'm pushed to be civil to Boy and to the Cat before mid-day. I'm not a morning person. I come with a health warning before my first cup of coffee. No one wants to be around me until at least 11 o'clock. Why do you think Boy goes to school? I'm not even polite to the milk man for Heaven's sake! Jeez.
And then, to top it all off, they want me to work. As if the sacrifices I've laid out above, aren't enough. Being graced with my presence isn't enough for them. Oh no, they want me to do stuff. Imagine that? Answer the phone, sort out problems, find things, do filing, the list goes on. Ungrateful bastards.
I have to do all of this for a pay check?! Really? Humpf.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Friday, October 08, 2010
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Working for a Living
What can I say? I'm knackered. This working for a living business is tough. Even though I worked in the office over the summer, so I had some idea of what I was letting myself in for, I have been struggling to make the jump from Orange Woman to Office Biatch.
When you work with women, especially in the Orange Industry, they notice things. If you've changed your lippy, eye-liner or have a new shirt - they'll spot it and give their tuppence worth. I've got used to walking onto the shop floor and be greeted with 'good lipstick'. Now, working in an office, they only comment I get is whether the coffee is too strong. They don't care what I look like as long as I don't turn up in jeans.
Today, I've been hit by the 'am I doing a good job' neuroses? What if they're regretting taking me on? What if they think everything that I've done so far - sucks? My job description changes every day and I'm scrabbling round trying to learn this new sector I find myself in. After all, there really is no difference between £160 face cream and £16,000 eco-heating solution, is there? Today, I felt I was sliding off the wrong side of the learning curve. I'm very aware that this the private sector where they can hire and fire on a whim and I really, really don't want to fuck this up. I want to do my job and do it welll.
When I interupt my hyperventilating, and rationalise, I tell myself that it's still very early days. I just have to do what I say I'm going to do, keep my head down and learn the job. I have to give myself time and trust that they saw my potential, and although I don't feel it at the moment, I will do it. I will achieve my potential.
When you work with women, especially in the Orange Industry, they notice things. If you've changed your lippy, eye-liner or have a new shirt - they'll spot it and give their tuppence worth. I've got used to walking onto the shop floor and be greeted with 'good lipstick'. Now, working in an office, they only comment I get is whether the coffee is too strong. They don't care what I look like as long as I don't turn up in jeans.
Today, I've been hit by the 'am I doing a good job' neuroses? What if they're regretting taking me on? What if they think everything that I've done so far - sucks? My job description changes every day and I'm scrabbling round trying to learn this new sector I find myself in. After all, there really is no difference between £160 face cream and £16,000 eco-heating solution, is there? Today, I felt I was sliding off the wrong side of the learning curve. I'm very aware that this the private sector where they can hire and fire on a whim and I really, really don't want to fuck this up. I want to do my job and do it welll.
When I interupt my hyperventilating, and rationalise, I tell myself that it's still very early days. I just have to do what I say I'm going to do, keep my head down and learn the job. I have to give myself time and trust that they saw my potential, and although I don't feel it at the moment, I will do it. I will achieve my potential.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Falling off Bikes
My last day has come and gone. I survived the experience. Boy was very disappointed that I remained polite to my customers when I got around to serving them. What can I say? I was busy handing out chocolates and getting hugged. I must admit, I really will miss the ladies of Perfumery, they really are fabulous. I will definitely be calling in and bugging them in the future.
It has been a bittersweet time for me. When I left local government I was determined I was going to write for a living. But the fact of the matter is, while I will continue writing, I'm not likely to become a published author. Publishing is a cut-throat business, of the people who I studied with, who are amazing writers, genuinely talented in an iritatingly laisez-faire way, they can't keep themselves. Realistically, if they can't, will I be able to? No not really. So I stuck it out with retail and as much as I found it fun in places, for the most part it was bloody hard work for bugger-all pay.
So here I am going to be a Sales and Marketing Assistant, being suited and booted once again. I confess to being somewhat nervous. Yes, I do know what I'm letting myself in for, over the past 3 months I've got to know the people there fairly well. It's a small company on the verge of taking off. It faces all the challenges that a company in that position does, resourcing, structuring and processes. But given the potential, and the part that I could play, it could be a big player in a really interesting field.
Tomorrow, I'm going through my wardrobe. The endless black t-shirts, grey t-shirts, exceptionally dull black underwear - they are all going out. I have some good pieces in my wardrobe still, but I'll be making a few trips to M&S and BHS for some office staples. I'm looking for some good shoes. Now I'm not expected to stand 7.5 hours a day, I can indulge in some high heels and fuck-me boots. Oops. Did I write that out loud?
The creative writing student is slowly giving way to Business Woman, and in a way, I feel sad for my loss. I like being a grubby art student, being creative suits me. But being a Business Woman is very satisfying in a completely different way. Being around practical people who turn up on time and do what they say they're going to do, allows for a different type of creativity. My job is going to be providing the Face for the company. I'm the person who'll be making sure that the enquiries become the satisfied customers throughout the process. How cool is that?
It might all go horribly wrong. Indeed it might; for I am such an optimist. But I've ended up here because I followed the Path. While I've made decisions: good, bad and indifferent, they've usually been in response to The Universe's jokes. About two years ago, I decided that I was going to go with the flow. These are the uncharted waters and I must admit, I've little to complain about. My Boy is stunning, he's bigger than me, I still get hugs, he still makes me laugh at the end of a shitty day. My Viking is fabulous, a completely unexpected side-effect from blogging. My life is rich and I have much to be thankful for. It is the end of many things, but I'm ready to welcome the changes.
This is made more poignant because a much-loved Elder of the Norwich Chant Collective died this morning. I wouldn't be going out on a limb if I said that without his knowledge and guidance, the people who I count as family wouldn't have been where they are today. While he did not train me, I knew him and was fond of him. We would catch up at handfastings and baby-namings. He would make a point of having a chat if we met by chance in the City. He will be greatly missed.
It has been a bittersweet time for me. When I left local government I was determined I was going to write for a living. But the fact of the matter is, while I will continue writing, I'm not likely to become a published author. Publishing is a cut-throat business, of the people who I studied with, who are amazing writers, genuinely talented in an iritatingly laisez-faire way, they can't keep themselves. Realistically, if they can't, will I be able to? No not really. So I stuck it out with retail and as much as I found it fun in places, for the most part it was bloody hard work for bugger-all pay.
So here I am going to be a Sales and Marketing Assistant, being suited and booted once again. I confess to being somewhat nervous. Yes, I do know what I'm letting myself in for, over the past 3 months I've got to know the people there fairly well. It's a small company on the verge of taking off. It faces all the challenges that a company in that position does, resourcing, structuring and processes. But given the potential, and the part that I could play, it could be a big player in a really interesting field.
Tomorrow, I'm going through my wardrobe. The endless black t-shirts, grey t-shirts, exceptionally dull black underwear - they are all going out. I have some good pieces in my wardrobe still, but I'll be making a few trips to M&S and BHS for some office staples. I'm looking for some good shoes. Now I'm not expected to stand 7.5 hours a day, I can indulge in some high heels and fuck-me boots. Oops. Did I write that out loud?
The creative writing student is slowly giving way to Business Woman, and in a way, I feel sad for my loss. I like being a grubby art student, being creative suits me. But being a Business Woman is very satisfying in a completely different way. Being around practical people who turn up on time and do what they say they're going to do, allows for a different type of creativity. My job is going to be providing the Face for the company. I'm the person who'll be making sure that the enquiries become the satisfied customers throughout the process. How cool is that?
It might all go horribly wrong. Indeed it might; for I am such an optimist. But I've ended up here because I followed the Path. While I've made decisions: good, bad and indifferent, they've usually been in response to The Universe's jokes. About two years ago, I decided that I was going to go with the flow. These are the uncharted waters and I must admit, I've little to complain about. My Boy is stunning, he's bigger than me, I still get hugs, he still makes me laugh at the end of a shitty day. My Viking is fabulous, a completely unexpected side-effect from blogging. My life is rich and I have much to be thankful for. It is the end of many things, but I'm ready to welcome the changes.
This is made more poignant because a much-loved Elder of the Norwich Chant Collective died this morning. I wouldn't be going out on a limb if I said that without his knowledge and guidance, the people who I count as family wouldn't have been where they are today. While he did not train me, I knew him and was fond of him. We would catch up at handfastings and baby-namings. He would make a point of having a chat if we met by chance in the City. He will be greatly missed.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The End of an Orange Era
Tomorrow is my final day as an employee in the independant department store. Tomorrow, I hang up the 'orange'. I won't miss the stupid, the daft, the weird and the rude. I will miss the fun, the glamour, the products and my colleagues.
When I think about my make-up collection before I started working in perfumery, it consisted of two lip sticks, one lip gloss and two eye-shadow pallets. I had two fragrances on my dressing table.
Last night, I thought I really ought to sort out my make-up boxes and bags. No, I'm not kidding, I have 2 boxes full and 3 bags of make-up. While I was at it, I also sorted through my cosmetics. I think I've got 18 bottles of fragrance sitting on my dressing table and that hasn't stopped me eyeing up several new fragrances longingly either.
Viking and I were talking about how a job can change you. I started by saying 'no, my job didn't change me...' at which point my Viking and Boy fell about laughing and pointed out my expanding cosmetics collection and the fact that I can't nip over the wall to the pub without putting mascara on first. Sheepishly, I agreed, the job has definitely changed me. For better, or worse?
Better: I love being a girlie. I love the glamour. Putting my make-up on in the morning, I feel like I'm ready for work, I'm ready for the day ahead.
Worse: I'm not convinced my bank manager will buy the 'but I NEED it!'
On the cosmetic side of things, the one piece of advice I can give you (apart from wearing sunscreen), is to invest in a good moisturiser (that goes for you men as well). It will be worth every penny, I promise. Over the last 20 months, I have noticed a big change in my skin. I'm trying to find the most delicate way of saying this, but I can't and I really don't want to go into graphic detail. You're going to have to trust me.
Invest in a good moisturiser - not because you're worth it, and you are - but because it works.
When I think about my make-up collection before I started working in perfumery, it consisted of two lip sticks, one lip gloss and two eye-shadow pallets. I had two fragrances on my dressing table.
Last night, I thought I really ought to sort out my make-up boxes and bags. No, I'm not kidding, I have 2 boxes full and 3 bags of make-up. While I was at it, I also sorted through my cosmetics. I think I've got 18 bottles of fragrance sitting on my dressing table and that hasn't stopped me eyeing up several new fragrances longingly either.
Viking and I were talking about how a job can change you. I started by saying 'no, my job didn't change me...' at which point my Viking and Boy fell about laughing and pointed out my expanding cosmetics collection and the fact that I can't nip over the wall to the pub without putting mascara on first. Sheepishly, I agreed, the job has definitely changed me. For better, or worse?
Better: I love being a girlie. I love the glamour. Putting my make-up on in the morning, I feel like I'm ready for work, I'm ready for the day ahead.
Worse: I'm not convinced my bank manager will buy the 'but I NEED it!'
On the cosmetic side of things, the one piece of advice I can give you (apart from wearing sunscreen), is to invest in a good moisturiser (that goes for you men as well). It will be worth every penny, I promise. Over the last 20 months, I have noticed a big change in my skin. I'm trying to find the most delicate way of saying this, but I can't and I really don't want to go into graphic detail. You're going to have to trust me.
Invest in a good moisturiser - not because you're worth it, and you are - but because it works.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Times, they are a-Changin'
There have been a couple of reasons why I haven't been blogging regularly. Firstly, I've been in a particularly foul mood that started when I came back off holiday and has continued unabated. I'm perfectly aware of it's causes but I was reluctant to inflict it on you, my good virtual friends. I've been so vile that Boy greets me at the door with alcohol and my Viking...well I'm petitioning the Vatican on his behalf. I'm convinced he is a saint. The patience he has shown me, I've been like a porcupine with PMS; that he still wants to be with me is an absolute miracle.
Juggling two jobs, doing 6 and 7 day stretches ground me down. Trying to keep it together, being tired and grumpy has been a mammoth task. My thanks goes out to my personal chefs, Mr Tesco and Mme Marks & Spencer, without whom Boy and I would have starved.
Then I got offered a permanent position at the heat pump company as a Sales & Marketing Assistant. I don't think I quite bit their hands off to accept, but they were left in no doubt how much I wanted the job. Since the beginning of the month I've been working through my notice period which has crept by. Each day on the shop floor has been a challenge to keep the Editor-in-my-Head working at full speed as I struggled not let the sarcasm slip from between clenched teeth.
There is light at the end of the tunnel. Tomorrow, I'm in the office and Friday is my last day. Woo Hoo!
It's really weird, but as much as I'm looking forward to starting my new job, I am sorry to be leaving my glamorous past-time. I will miss the girls on the floor. They've been fabulous. They showed me the Girlie Way and I'll never look back. We've stood together through shop lifters, rude customers, weirdos and good looking men in uniform. I will miss them.
Juggling two jobs, doing 6 and 7 day stretches ground me down. Trying to keep it together, being tired and grumpy has been a mammoth task. My thanks goes out to my personal chefs, Mr Tesco and Mme Marks & Spencer, without whom Boy and I would have starved.
Then I got offered a permanent position at the heat pump company as a Sales & Marketing Assistant. I don't think I quite bit their hands off to accept, but they were left in no doubt how much I wanted the job. Since the beginning of the month I've been working through my notice period which has crept by. Each day on the shop floor has been a challenge to keep the Editor-in-my-Head working at full speed as I struggled not let the sarcasm slip from between clenched teeth.
There is light at the end of the tunnel. Tomorrow, I'm in the office and Friday is my last day. Woo Hoo!
It's really weird, but as much as I'm looking forward to starting my new job, I am sorry to be leaving my glamorous past-time. I will miss the girls on the floor. They've been fabulous. They showed me the Girlie Way and I'll never look back. We've stood together through shop lifters, rude customers, weirdos and good looking men in uniform. I will miss them.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Time Off
Part of the reason for my dragging fatigue has been dealing with people who do this -
Customer: excuse me, how much is this? *holds up a box of something*
Me: that's £35.00 madam/sir/fuckwit.
Customer: thirty-five pounds?
So, I've decided that I'm no longer going to trade in pounds. On Saturday, my currency of choice was Japanese Yen. I'm particularly looking forward to my return, when I'll be trading in Italian Lira. Can you think of any innovative currency, I might like to try?
Anyway, I'm not sure how much internet access I'll have while I'm in the wilds of the Lakes. Mind you, it's not like I've been posting regularly recently.
Customer: excuse me, how much is this? *holds up a box of something*
Me: that's £35.00 madam/sir/fuckwit.
Customer: thirty-five pounds?
So, I've decided that I'm no longer going to trade in pounds. On Saturday, my currency of choice was Japanese Yen. I'm particularly looking forward to my return, when I'll be trading in Italian Lira. Can you think of any innovative currency, I might like to try?
It is with great relief that I say to you - I'm on holiday! I think I'm running the risk of actually saying this stuff, if I didn't have a break. Currently, I'm oop North with my Viking and Boy and we'll be bothering his parents later today (Viking's not Boy's). I have been promised Whitby fish and chips, a walk around Robin Hood Bay and Ravenscar. I put my foot down with a firm hand and said - no camping if it's wet - which apparently makes me the biggest whimp ever. I don't care, I've done camping cold and damp before, I don't need a repeat of the experience.
It's taking awhile for my shoulders to drop away from my ears and I am trying to relax. I still feel tense and snappy, but my Viking and Boy are being very patient with me. I must say, just getting out of Norwich and being taken away from my responsibilities has eased things.Anyway, I'm not sure how much internet access I'll have while I'm in the wilds of the Lakes. Mind you, it's not like I've been posting regularly recently.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Decadent Day Off
Life here continues apace. My Counter Manager is away, sunning herself in foreign climes, drinking French wine, eating French food - and she didn't invite me along. Humpf. I'm working full-time for the PCH, which is tiring, but not as exhausting as doing 6 days on the trot as I have been doing lately, juggling two jobs.
I've decided I'm far too lazy for this type of economic activity. The time I spend working to pay the bills (after the second black bill, the one before the red, snotty one), I could be interferring with Boy's X-Box time; I could be drinking coffee, eating small pastries with Gee; I could be irritating Viking in the mornings making him get up and amuse me; I could be writing. Instead, I'm being fiscally responsible. Humpf.
This week pretty much everything that could go wrong electronically, did. My wonderful Nokia N73, of which I have had many a diatribe, its days are numbered. O2 said I could have an upgrade, which I nearly bit their online hands off. I elected to have a cheaper tariff, with a less snazzy phone in the hopes that the less there was to go wrong, the more likely it would work more. Which in theory was sound. New phone arrives. Does it work? Does it heck. Couldn't even switch the damn thing on. In the hopes it was just me being thick, I took it to an O2 store in town. A sales guy, who looked younger than Boy, deigned to stop talking to his girlfriend long enough to assertain my phone didn't work. I then had to ring O2 Customer Services to organise the swap. I thought I'd have to post the damn thing off and wait until they sent a new one out to me. There is a God, and She is good. Or perhaps the nice lady on the phone heard how fed up I was. They organised for a courier to come with the new phone and swap it for the faulty one. Of course, I was at work and they couldn't guarantee when the courier would come a-calling. Boy was home from school and was able to take delivery. So I now have a swanky new phone, one that actually works. How cool is that?
Unfortunately, my new CD alarm seems to be lazier than me. It starts playing a track and then decides it really can't be bothered. At all. It means I have to go back to Argos and bitch to some bored teenager to get it exchanged. Can I find the receipt? Can I heck as like! So, I'm now looking at my baskets where I dump my paperwork, to see if I can find a bank statement with the transaction, to show I paid for the damn thing. Do I want to do that today? I'm in my pink, fluffy dressing gown, enjoying my second cup of coffee (love you Hottie) and I'm loathe to leave my flat to head into town just for that. There are plans afoot to meet the gang in the Pub-Over-the-Wall and while I'm happy getting dressed for them (though to be fair, they wouldn't care if I turned up as I am), I really don't think the sacrifice of becoming presentable is worthy of Argos today.
I've decided I'm far too lazy for this type of economic activity. The time I spend working to pay the bills (after the second black bill, the one before the red, snotty one), I could be interferring with Boy's X-Box time; I could be drinking coffee, eating small pastries with Gee; I could be irritating Viking in the mornings making him get up and amuse me; I could be writing. Instead, I'm being fiscally responsible. Humpf.
This week pretty much everything that could go wrong electronically, did. My wonderful Nokia N73, of which I have had many a diatribe, its days are numbered. O2 said I could have an upgrade, which I nearly bit their online hands off. I elected to have a cheaper tariff, with a less snazzy phone in the hopes that the less there was to go wrong, the more likely it would work more. Which in theory was sound. New phone arrives. Does it work? Does it heck. Couldn't even switch the damn thing on. In the hopes it was just me being thick, I took it to an O2 store in town. A sales guy, who looked younger than Boy, deigned to stop talking to his girlfriend long enough to assertain my phone didn't work. I then had to ring O2 Customer Services to organise the swap. I thought I'd have to post the damn thing off and wait until they sent a new one out to me. There is a God, and She is good. Or perhaps the nice lady on the phone heard how fed up I was. They organised for a courier to come with the new phone and swap it for the faulty one. Of course, I was at work and they couldn't guarantee when the courier would come a-calling. Boy was home from school and was able to take delivery. So I now have a swanky new phone, one that actually works. How cool is that?
Unfortunately, my new CD alarm seems to be lazier than me. It starts playing a track and then decides it really can't be bothered. At all. It means I have to go back to Argos and bitch to some bored teenager to get it exchanged. Can I find the receipt? Can I heck as like! So, I'm now looking at my baskets where I dump my paperwork, to see if I can find a bank statement with the transaction, to show I paid for the damn thing. Do I want to do that today? I'm in my pink, fluffy dressing gown, enjoying my second cup of coffee (love you Hottie) and I'm loathe to leave my flat to head into town just for that. There are plans afoot to meet the gang in the Pub-Over-the-Wall and while I'm happy getting dressed for them (though to be fair, they wouldn't care if I turned up as I am), I really don't think the sacrifice of becoming presentable is worthy of Argos today.
Friday, July 04, 2008
The Difference Between Retail & Office Work
I had a friend ring up last week and ask if I would provide emergency office cover. I'm not proud, I need the cash, I gave it a go. I had a really good time. I then realised there were some major differences between Retail and Office work:
Retail: You have 1 and a half hour break, and nothing bar fire, flood and acts of God will keep you from them.
Office: You turn up at 9am, leave at 5.30ish and eat at your desk.
Retail: You have to smoke in your break time.
Office: Smoke every 3/4 hour or more often depending on your stress levels. If you don't smoke, you're glued to your desk.
Retail: On your feet 7.5 hours a day.
Office: On your feet only to get to the photocopier/kettle and only if your chair won't roll all the way.
Retail: You count the seconds between your coffee break and lunch.
Office: Coffee is but a click away. Oh yeah, baby!
Retail: Lots of 'interesting' customers in your face.
Office: Not so many 'interesting' customers, and they're usually on the phone.
Retail: Nothing less than glamorous will do, preferably in a short skirt and high, high heels.
Office: It's clean, what more do you want?
Retail: Every moment is a surprise.
Office: Same shit, different day.
I'm hoping to do more of the office stuff, it really has been fun and it will keep me in coffee and hopefully, a colour laser printer. Besides, what else am I going to be doing on my days off?
Retail: You have 1 and a half hour break, and nothing bar fire, flood and acts of God will keep you from them.
Office: You turn up at 9am, leave at 5.30ish and eat at your desk.
Retail: You have to smoke in your break time.
Office: Smoke every 3/4 hour or more often depending on your stress levels. If you don't smoke, you're glued to your desk.
Retail: On your feet 7.5 hours a day.
Office: On your feet only to get to the photocopier/kettle and only if your chair won't roll all the way.
Retail: You count the seconds between your coffee break and lunch.
Office: Coffee is but a click away. Oh yeah, baby!
Retail: Lots of 'interesting' customers in your face.
Office: Not so many 'interesting' customers, and they're usually on the phone.
Retail: Nothing less than glamorous will do, preferably in a short skirt and high, high heels.
Office: It's clean, what more do you want?
Retail: Every moment is a surprise.
Office: Same shit, different day.
I'm hoping to do more of the office stuff, it really has been fun and it will keep me in coffee and hopefully, a colour laser printer. Besides, what else am I going to be doing on my days off?
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday Monday
Note to self: do not be heavy handed with the ground coffee in the coffee machine. It leads to much tossing and turning until 3am and a pretty pissed off cat. The only upside to having 4 hours sleep is being awake at stupid o'clock to talk to my Viking as he was working Lates. The downside was my alarm going off at 7am and I felt dreadful. I need lots of sleep (Viking will attest to that) otherwise I become Major Grumpy Knickers (Boy will vouch for that too). My mood wasn't helped when I got into work and faced a Performance Review.
I was concerned when my Counter Manager said the Department Manager wanted to see us. The minute she said 'it's nothing to worry about', paranoia kicked in and I put in some serious worrying time. One thing I can do very well, if I don't say so myself, is obsess. I can obsess for England, if only it were an Olympic sport. So I obsessed. By the time the meeting was called, with the lack of sleep and the obsessing, I was in a bit of a state. I was probably not my most sparkling, or witty or even coherent (I suspect). It was quite an intense experience. I've been appraised before, but this was full on Performance Review complete with targets, objectives and jargon (lots of it). The long and the short of it is: they're quite happy with me. They feel I've got off to a good start and will continue to make good progress. I like the work, even if it is hard on my legs and there are really worse ways to make a living.
I crawled home, punch drunk from lack of sleep and the fall-out from the obsession session. I struggle to convey the joy of opening my front door to be greeted with hugs from Boy and miaows from the Cat. Boy had hoovered and done the recycling. Is there a better feeling? Yes there is. Trust me, there is. After we stopped hugging he said "I brought the pasta I made during food tech home. Do you want it for dinner?"
See. I told you. There is a Goddess and damn is She good!
I scraped off the orange, changed into sloppy clothes and have just finished a huge bowl full of yummy spicey pasta. The only thing I must/have to do tonight is wait for Tescos to deliver the shopping. Tomorrow, I'm moonlighting in Marsham. Tonight, I'm going to put my feet up and whoop some Oblivion ass.
I was concerned when my Counter Manager said the Department Manager wanted to see us. The minute she said 'it's nothing to worry about', paranoia kicked in and I put in some serious worrying time. One thing I can do very well, if I don't say so myself, is obsess. I can obsess for England, if only it were an Olympic sport. So I obsessed. By the time the meeting was called, with the lack of sleep and the obsessing, I was in a bit of a state. I was probably not my most sparkling, or witty or even coherent (I suspect). It was quite an intense experience. I've been appraised before, but this was full on Performance Review complete with targets, objectives and jargon (lots of it). The long and the short of it is: they're quite happy with me. They feel I've got off to a good start and will continue to make good progress. I like the work, even if it is hard on my legs and there are really worse ways to make a living.
I crawled home, punch drunk from lack of sleep and the fall-out from the obsession session. I struggle to convey the joy of opening my front door to be greeted with hugs from Boy and miaows from the Cat. Boy had hoovered and done the recycling. Is there a better feeling? Yes there is. Trust me, there is. After we stopped hugging he said "I brought the pasta I made during food tech home. Do you want it for dinner?"
See. I told you. There is a Goddess and damn is She good!
I scraped off the orange, changed into sloppy clothes and have just finished a huge bowl full of yummy spicey pasta. The only thing I must/have to do tonight is wait for Tescos to deliver the shopping. Tomorrow, I'm moonlighting in Marsham. Tonight, I'm going to put my feet up and whoop some Oblivion ass.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Eleanor Roosevelt was Right
Did I tell you I was once gainfully employed? I used to work for a local council as an Economic Development Officer. I had a salary that enabled me to buy my flat, have a brand new car, shop for crockery at Habitat. It was employment with status, my parents were proud of me. And then I gave it up.
I was chatting to my Counter Manager yesterday, we were talking shop and trying to figure out new ways of drumming up business when a man walked by and smirked at me. He was part of the reason I left local government, a restructure would have made him my line-manager and he was a power-hungry, misogynistic bastard and I think part of our working relationship problem was I told him so. Yes, I know. How to win friends and influence people. Not.
He was not the only reason.
I hated local government structure and politics. The constant restructuring to ensure the status quo was maintained. Any hint of creative thinking got stamped on. I got told off because I kept on making unreasonable demand of colleagues: I expected them to do their jobs. When I went to bed at night I longed for sleep and in the morning I'd open my eyes with dread sitting in my belly. I was constantly unwell. I was crotchety, grumpy and vile. Boy and I didn't have much of a relationship as the only time we'd spend together was in the car as I took him to Breakfast Club and picked him up from the After School Club. Yes, it was novel to pay my bills on time and to be able to buy clothes from Next instead of the charity shop, but it was blood money.
So this guy walks by and smirks at me. I could see exactly what he was thinking as I stood there behind my counter and I smiled back and carried on with my conversation. When I walked home the brief encounter stayed with me. He wasn't shopping, he walked through the shop arms swinging. I've worked there over 18 months and I'd never seen him there. In fact, I had only just seen him recently in a local pub and he was barely polite to me then. He thought he could come into my place of work and look down his nose at me, and my choice of job and put me down.
Eleanor Roosevelt said No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
This life that I've chosen, it works for me. I won't lie, I'd like more money. But then, who wouldn't? The fact is I rarely deny myself anything, Boy and I eat regularly. The roof over our head (currently being fixed) is fairly secure. I have a solid relationship with my son. I have a healthy relationship with my Viking. When I wake up in the morning I start thinking about the things that need to be done, and I start balancing them against the things I want to do. More often than not, I do a bit of both. I have an amazing support network, both socially, virtually and through work and college. I chose to be sociable or to be alone. I like working at the PCH, my boss is great, the products fun and working 3 days a week and doing occasional full-time stints for holiday cover, means I have time to do other things like write, hang out with my Boy and my Viking. All in all, I feel blessed.
I was chatting to my Counter Manager yesterday, we were talking shop and trying to figure out new ways of drumming up business when a man walked by and smirked at me. He was part of the reason I left local government, a restructure would have made him my line-manager and he was a power-hungry, misogynistic bastard and I think part of our working relationship problem was I told him so. Yes, I know. How to win friends and influence people. Not.
He was not the only reason.
I hated local government structure and politics. The constant restructuring to ensure the status quo was maintained. Any hint of creative thinking got stamped on. I got told off because I kept on making unreasonable demand of colleagues: I expected them to do their jobs. When I went to bed at night I longed for sleep and in the morning I'd open my eyes with dread sitting in my belly. I was constantly unwell. I was crotchety, grumpy and vile. Boy and I didn't have much of a relationship as the only time we'd spend together was in the car as I took him to Breakfast Club and picked him up from the After School Club. Yes, it was novel to pay my bills on time and to be able to buy clothes from Next instead of the charity shop, but it was blood money.
So this guy walks by and smirks at me. I could see exactly what he was thinking as I stood there behind my counter and I smiled back and carried on with my conversation. When I walked home the brief encounter stayed with me. He wasn't shopping, he walked through the shop arms swinging. I've worked there over 18 months and I'd never seen him there. In fact, I had only just seen him recently in a local pub and he was barely polite to me then. He thought he could come into my place of work and look down his nose at me, and my choice of job and put me down.
Eleanor Roosevelt said No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
This life that I've chosen, it works for me. I won't lie, I'd like more money. But then, who wouldn't? The fact is I rarely deny myself anything, Boy and I eat regularly. The roof over our head (currently being fixed) is fairly secure. I have a solid relationship with my son. I have a healthy relationship with my Viking. When I wake up in the morning I start thinking about the things that need to be done, and I start balancing them against the things I want to do. More often than not, I do a bit of both. I have an amazing support network, both socially, virtually and through work and college. I chose to be sociable or to be alone. I like working at the PCH, my boss is great, the products fun and working 3 days a week and doing occasional full-time stints for holiday cover, means I have time to do other things like write, hang out with my Boy and my Viking. All in all, I feel blessed.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Alright Now
Hi, it's me. I had a really good self-pity session, complete with a bottle of lovely red wine and Love Actually. I cried through all of the soppy bits, staggered off to bed and woke up to the sound of my Viking lugging his bags in. He just finished a night-shift and drove straight down to see me. Bless him. I made him coffee, gave him biscuits and tucked him up in bed. An eleven-hour shift through the night does tend to take it out of him. I was fine emotionally. I'd obviously just needed to get it off my chest. Unfortunately, it took me until well past mid-day to stop feeling fragile courtesy of the red wine.
Today, I've been in Cambridge for my first ever product briefing. The PCH is about to launch this dead-exciting anti-wrinkle cream and we were given pots of that and the eye cream - I'll let you know how well they work in due course. We also were given details of the product launches for the next 3 months. It's all terribly exciting really. Lots of bright, retro colours to go with our impressive range of summer products and sun care. I'm going to have lots of fun trying out these different looks. Though I'm not convinced by the lime-green lip gloss or bright orange nail polish.
I am such a freebee tart. I was practically jumping up and down when we went into the room and there on our places were the boxes of moisturiser and eyecream. We also got given this fab goodie bag crammed full of stuff. I can't wait to try it all out. I know it's terribly shallow, but I just can't help myself.
I was so nervous today, I had to go to the training by myself and I didn't know anyone else there. I met up with some of the girls from PCHs in other stores. They were so sweet, they made me feel so welcome and not at all out of place. We chatted all the way there and back on the train, they were such a laugh. I am still amazed by the women who work in the cosmetics industry. Having been assassinated several times by women in offices and their office politics, I am still a bit wary of working with women. But these ladies are not only glamorous, they're also approachable, funny and warm. I feel lucky working with them.
Today, I've been in Cambridge for my first ever product briefing. The PCH is about to launch this dead-exciting anti-wrinkle cream and we were given pots of that and the eye cream - I'll let you know how well they work in due course. We also were given details of the product launches for the next 3 months. It's all terribly exciting really. Lots of bright, retro colours to go with our impressive range of summer products and sun care. I'm going to have lots of fun trying out these different looks. Though I'm not convinced by the lime-green lip gloss or bright orange nail polish.
I am such a freebee tart. I was practically jumping up and down when we went into the room and there on our places were the boxes of moisturiser and eyecream. We also got given this fab goodie bag crammed full of stuff. I can't wait to try it all out. I know it's terribly shallow, but I just can't help myself.
I was so nervous today, I had to go to the training by myself and I didn't know anyone else there. I met up with some of the girls from PCHs in other stores. They were so sweet, they made me feel so welcome and not at all out of place. We chatted all the way there and back on the train, they were such a laugh. I am still amazed by the women who work in the cosmetics industry. Having been assassinated several times by women in offices and their office politics, I am still a bit wary of working with women. But these ladies are not only glamorous, they're also approachable, funny and warm. I feel lucky working with them.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Meltdown
The next time someone says 'it can't get any worse', just kick them and say it's from me.
Today, I had a meltdown at work. I got into work on time, I was looking forward to being back and getting stuck in...and then I had to sort out my diary until Christmas. I've agreed to take on extra days for the festive period and both me and my colleague who was trying to sort it out got more and more stressed. The only way I can take on the extra days is if I work 5 days a week. Not a problem, especially when I finish college in the second week in December. But it's a huge problem in November and October, especially since I've got a day every week at college. Somehow I've got to get it together to do my 5 days, my day at college and do homework and paperwork for both, keep my household running and maintain relationships with my Boy and my Viking. Which, at the moment, it looks like I can book time off to spend with them in 2008...no I'm not kidding.
On my break I called Gee and howled down the phone at her. Bless her, despite her own committments she's agreed to keep an eye on us and make sure we're occasionally fed. I then rang my Viking to see what his plans are for Christmas (he's working, of course) and howled down the phone to him. I then sniffed, mopped and went back to the shop floor whereby my colleague, let's call her Janie, looked at me, asked 'are you alright?' and I promptly lost it.
How professional am I? I got led to my manager's office and bearing in mind that this is the 2nd day I've met her (we've had a re-structure last week) and cried for half an hour on her shoulder. Oh boy. We've agreed that I will only take on what I can and they won't stress at me. All in all, I've had a rubbish day. The fact of the matter is I have to do the extra days. I need the money. I suppose there are times that I feel my single-parent, orphan status very keenly. Today, was one of those days; and I'm allowed. I don't have a husband/partner to carry the burden, my family is in Trinidad and this is the first Christmas I have without both my Mum and Pops.
But I am also really lucky, there is a plus side. I have friends who are there for me, who are prepared to do practical things for me, like babysit, wash my dishes, hand me a glasses of red wine. I have a my Viking who talked me down from teary to smiles this evening, he understands about retail, Christmas and madness and we've promised each other we'll do something lovely after the madness is all over.
There are two rainbows soaring over my rainy day (literally and figuratively). The first is thanks to the fabulous Samantha at Miller Harris who said I could have a bottle of Geranium Bourbon for my own self. It arrives tomorrow. I can't wait to get my grubby mitts on it. It is my favourite fragrance. I just love selling it. While it does not hold mass appeal, those who love it, really love it; I think that's fine.
The second is my retail therapy. I've been working in the SkinSpa area today. Korres are a young Greek award-winning company that do amazing bath, body and face products. They create products that are kind to your skin and kind to the environment. With the shuffle around at work, we've been able to carry more of their range, which of course has meant more temptation for me. Today I bought their Fig Shower Gel to go with the Fig Body Butter, which I've already got sitting on my dressing table.
After the wet walk back from work, Boy and I met in the Pub Over the Wall had a couple of pints of coke and a good a chin wag. We came home, I hit the shower, pampered and slathered myself to a glass of naughtiness and chatted to my Viking. I now feel human again, if slightly stupid at my meltdown. But this is how it is at the moment. Perhaps it may not be me at my best, but I will get there. And however shitty I feel today, tomorrow is another day pregnant with possibilities.
Today, I had a meltdown at work. I got into work on time, I was looking forward to being back and getting stuck in...and then I had to sort out my diary until Christmas. I've agreed to take on extra days for the festive period and both me and my colleague who was trying to sort it out got more and more stressed. The only way I can take on the extra days is if I work 5 days a week. Not a problem, especially when I finish college in the second week in December. But it's a huge problem in November and October, especially since I've got a day every week at college. Somehow I've got to get it together to do my 5 days, my day at college and do homework and paperwork for both, keep my household running and maintain relationships with my Boy and my Viking. Which, at the moment, it looks like I can book time off to spend with them in 2008...no I'm not kidding.
On my break I called Gee and howled down the phone at her. Bless her, despite her own committments she's agreed to keep an eye on us and make sure we're occasionally fed. I then rang my Viking to see what his plans are for Christmas (he's working, of course) and howled down the phone to him. I then sniffed, mopped and went back to the shop floor whereby my colleague, let's call her Janie, looked at me, asked 'are you alright?' and I promptly lost it.
How professional am I? I got led to my manager's office and bearing in mind that this is the 2nd day I've met her (we've had a re-structure last week) and cried for half an hour on her shoulder. Oh boy. We've agreed that I will only take on what I can and they won't stress at me. All in all, I've had a rubbish day. The fact of the matter is I have to do the extra days. I need the money. I suppose there are times that I feel my single-parent, orphan status very keenly. Today, was one of those days; and I'm allowed. I don't have a husband/partner to carry the burden, my family is in Trinidad and this is the first Christmas I have without both my Mum and Pops.
But I am also really lucky, there is a plus side. I have friends who are there for me, who are prepared to do practical things for me, like babysit, wash my dishes, hand me a glasses of red wine. I have a my Viking who talked me down from teary to smiles this evening, he understands about retail, Christmas and madness and we've promised each other we'll do something lovely after the madness is all over.
There are two rainbows soaring over my rainy day (literally and figuratively). The first is thanks to the fabulous Samantha at Miller Harris who said I could have a bottle of Geranium Bourbon for my own self. It arrives tomorrow. I can't wait to get my grubby mitts on it. It is my favourite fragrance. I just love selling it. While it does not hold mass appeal, those who love it, really love it; I think that's fine.
The second is my retail therapy. I've been working in the SkinSpa area today. Korres are a young Greek award-winning company that do amazing bath, body and face products. They create products that are kind to your skin and kind to the environment. With the shuffle around at work, we've been able to carry more of their range, which of course has meant more temptation for me. Today I bought their Fig Shower Gel to go with the Fig Body Butter, which I've already got sitting on my dressing table.
After the wet walk back from work, Boy and I met in the Pub Over the Wall had a couple of pints of coke and a good a chin wag. We came home, I hit the shower, pampered and slathered myself to a glass of naughtiness and chatted to my Viking. I now feel human again, if slightly stupid at my meltdown. But this is how it is at the moment. Perhaps it may not be me at my best, but I will get there. And however shitty I feel today, tomorrow is another day pregnant with possibilities.
Friday, October 05, 2007
*crack* the sound of my jaw dropping
Those of you in The Know, will be aware that my Viking is a copper. Occasionally he has expressed some frustration at his workload and I have dished out cuddles and biscuits as appropriate. When he says how frustrating he finds working in a target culture, I've teased him about being PC Bastard because if he doesn't have x-number of Fixed Penalty Notices, someone from up high has a quiet word in his shell-like.
Today Inspector Gadget posted about the paperwork that follows a relatively straightforward crime. I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the stupidity of it. I knew it was ridiculous from the frustration voiced not only by my Viking, but others of my favourite police bloggers (listed to your left). But seeing the list of forms required and knowing that if they are not filled out exactly they'll only come back with some sarky comment from a paper-pusher stunned me.
No one in their right mind would chose to do this. The money is shite, the clients vile, the public apathetic. But these men and women do it. Day after day.
I know it's not much, but to you incredible people I raise my glass to you. Thank you.
Thank you for doing what you do, day after day, despite the government's best efforts. I may be one voice in the wilderness; but you guys rock!
Today Inspector Gadget posted about the paperwork that follows a relatively straightforward crime. I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the stupidity of it. I knew it was ridiculous from the frustration voiced not only by my Viking, but others of my favourite police bloggers (listed to your left). But seeing the list of forms required and knowing that if they are not filled out exactly they'll only come back with some sarky comment from a paper-pusher stunned me.
No one in their right mind would chose to do this. The money is shite, the clients vile, the public apathetic. But these men and women do it. Day after day.
I know it's not much, but to you incredible people I raise my glass to you. Thank you.
Thank you for doing what you do, day after day, despite the government's best efforts. I may be one voice in the wilderness; but you guys rock!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Stayin Alive
No, I haven't dropped off the edge of the world. I've been doing a 4 day stint per week and it's killing me; even if it is fun and highly entertaining. I've basically ignored my kitchen and laundry for two weeks. When I finish my 4 days this week, I have another 4 days next week and then I'll be starting my proper, regular employment as well as college. Coupled with low energy levels since I came back from Trinidad, life has felt a bit like hard work recently.
I'm also a bit nervous about the MA. Not quite sure why, I obviously wasn't worrying about it when I was filling in the application form. I'm just worrying about it now. I'm hoping I will like the people on the course with me. I'm hoping even more that they will be the sort of people who are interested, engaged and prepared to invest their energy. See, I am an optimist.
I've also found my social skills are being challenged somewhat of late; bearing in mind that basically, I have none. I'm blunt and straight to the point. I despise game playing and social fannying about. If someone has a problem with me, I'd rather they say so to my face rather than whinge about the situation behind my back. It seems that because I'm working in a department store and easily accessible people think they can sound off on their personal lives. Which is a bit off-pissing when they then get stroppy with me because I'm only interested in the social niceties. This has happened to me twice, the second time yesterday, when an innocent enquiry after wife and children led to the history of his drinking problem and the fact he's back living with his parents, and how come I didn't know that and had to ask difficult questions?
Perhaps I should start going to their place of work and off-loading my personal life? See how they like that. Next time I won't bother to ask 'how are you?', maybe I'll just say 'hi' and leave it at that.
I will just share this with you. This happened to me Saturday and even if I sat at my PC for two days straight with a bottle of red, I would have never believed that it could happen.
I get into work (on time) at 9.30. I move over to the men's section to straighten up and just check that all is well with testers etc. I try to begin my working day checking out the stock because there are so many new lines coming in at the moment, things get moved around, squished about and I need to know where things are for when the customers ask. It also means I can do my own thing and look busy while being fairly unsociable and brain dead first thing.
9.45 an elderly gentleman walks towards me and asks my assistance. He was tall, dressed in a green tweed jacket, white polo neck jumper and a cane. The hair on his head had obviously slipped down to cover the front of his face. In other words he was very attractive - not. He wanted to try the whole range of Bulgari fragrances, he had a sample given to him earlier in the week, which he left at home. Very useful, especially since he can't remember the name of the fragrance he liked and wanted to purchase. So we work our way through the line, me spraying the fragrance onto cardboard testing strips and handing them to him. Half way through the process he turns to me opens his jacket, flasher fashion and says:
"I put some under my armpits. Perhaps you could have a smell and see which fragrance it is."
Not being funny or anything, but I get paid minimum wage. That's £5.40 an hour to sell fragrances to joe bloggs. I am not paid enough to go sniffing some old geezer's armpits. If Jason Statham turned up with the same request, my response would be the same.
"I'm sorry, no. I won't."
As I was declining this dubious pleasure a flash of movement by his ear caught my eye. It was a small, black spider busily crawling it's way back up the side of his ear.
I wonder in which reality it's appropriate to ask shop floor staff to sniff your armpits? Because it sure as hell isn't appropriate in mine.
I'm also a bit nervous about the MA. Not quite sure why, I obviously wasn't worrying about it when I was filling in the application form. I'm just worrying about it now. I'm hoping I will like the people on the course with me. I'm hoping even more that they will be the sort of people who are interested, engaged and prepared to invest their energy. See, I am an optimist.
I've also found my social skills are being challenged somewhat of late; bearing in mind that basically, I have none. I'm blunt and straight to the point. I despise game playing and social fannying about. If someone has a problem with me, I'd rather they say so to my face rather than whinge about the situation behind my back. It seems that because I'm working in a department store and easily accessible people think they can sound off on their personal lives. Which is a bit off-pissing when they then get stroppy with me because I'm only interested in the social niceties. This has happened to me twice, the second time yesterday, when an innocent enquiry after wife and children led to the history of his drinking problem and the fact he's back living with his parents, and how come I didn't know that and had to ask difficult questions?
Perhaps I should start going to their place of work and off-loading my personal life? See how they like that. Next time I won't bother to ask 'how are you?', maybe I'll just say 'hi' and leave it at that.
I will just share this with you. This happened to me Saturday and even if I sat at my PC for two days straight with a bottle of red, I would have never believed that it could happen.
I get into work (on time) at 9.30. I move over to the men's section to straighten up and just check that all is well with testers etc. I try to begin my working day checking out the stock because there are so many new lines coming in at the moment, things get moved around, squished about and I need to know where things are for when the customers ask. It also means I can do my own thing and look busy while being fairly unsociable and brain dead first thing.
9.45 an elderly gentleman walks towards me and asks my assistance. He was tall, dressed in a green tweed jacket, white polo neck jumper and a cane. The hair on his head had obviously slipped down to cover the front of his face. In other words he was very attractive - not. He wanted to try the whole range of Bulgari fragrances, he had a sample given to him earlier in the week, which he left at home. Very useful, especially since he can't remember the name of the fragrance he liked and wanted to purchase. So we work our way through the line, me spraying the fragrance onto cardboard testing strips and handing them to him. Half way through the process he turns to me opens his jacket, flasher fashion and says:
"I put some under my armpits. Perhaps you could have a smell and see which fragrance it is."
Not being funny or anything, but I get paid minimum wage. That's £5.40 an hour to sell fragrances to joe bloggs. I am not paid enough to go sniffing some old geezer's armpits. If Jason Statham turned up with the same request, my response would be the same.
"I'm sorry, no. I won't."
As I was declining this dubious pleasure a flash of movement by his ear caught my eye. It was a small, black spider busily crawling it's way back up the side of his ear.
I wonder in which reality it's appropriate to ask shop floor staff to sniff your armpits? Because it sure as hell isn't appropriate in mine.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Dior Addict 2
I have gone over to the Dark Side. I have been trying perfumes from other Cosmetics' Houses. I know. I hear you gasp in shock and are rightly appalled. After all, on the Back Wall there are many hundreds of fragrances to try. But I was weak willed, and went back to an old favourite. There's a story behind it as well which I'll share with you.
Alix had been working on the Back Wall in the department store for a few months and she liked to give samples to her friends for odd occasions. She gave me the sample for Addict 2 to try and I really liked it. My boyfriend at the time didn't. In fact, he loathed it and moaned as I used my sample up. When I saw the light and good sense re-asserted itself and I was once again happily single I bought myself a bottle. For reasons that I still don't understand, it didn't smell the same as my sample, it still smelt good, but just not the same. Fast forward to present day and I find myself covering for Dior and once again sniffing appreciatively...
It is gorgeous. It's got hints of grapefruit, bergamot, freesia, grenadine, sandalwood and white musks. Yummy, yummy. If I was to have a gripe about it, I would say, it doesn't last long enough. After a couple of hours and another spritz is needed. Mind you it is an Eau de Toilette.
Work has been going just fine. One of the advantages of being an As & When person is that if I don't feel like working, I don't have to. If I want more work, I can usually get it. It also means that I don't get bored with it. I can turn up all enthusiastic, whirl around like a mini-dervish and bugger off again to eat fish and chips with my Boy.
I've also discovered that I'm a lousy star-spotter. Yesterday, I was on fire. I was selling like a little demon. I made two really big sales which sorted our targets for male fragrances before mid-day. About mid-day, I approached a past-middle aged gentleman in a very unflattering hat. However, I am professionalism embodied. He enquired about skin-care ranges, I pointed him towards Dr Hauschka (which is amazing) gave him a bit of info as I led him over to the other section. In awhile he went off and my colleague who I'd led him to said in hushed, awed tones:
"You know who that was?" says she.
"No," says I. She tells me three times who it was, and I still don't believe her. He was big in the 70s, brilliant in the 80s and is still around in various repeats on cable. He's also a well-known Norfolk resident. In his hey-day, I rather fancied his Irish good looks.
Unfortunately, I was blissfully unaware. Or perhaps, from his perspective, fortunately.
Alix had been working on the Back Wall in the department store for a few months and she liked to give samples to her friends for odd occasions. She gave me the sample for Addict 2 to try and I really liked it. My boyfriend at the time didn't. In fact, he loathed it and moaned as I used my sample up. When I saw the light and good sense re-asserted itself and I was once again happily single I bought myself a bottle. For reasons that I still don't understand, it didn't smell the same as my sample, it still smelt good, but just not the same. Fast forward to present day and I find myself covering for Dior and once again sniffing appreciatively...
It is gorgeous. It's got hints of grapefruit, bergamot, freesia, grenadine, sandalwood and white musks. Yummy, yummy. If I was to have a gripe about it, I would say, it doesn't last long enough. After a couple of hours and another spritz is needed. Mind you it is an Eau de Toilette.
Work has been going just fine. One of the advantages of being an As & When person is that if I don't feel like working, I don't have to. If I want more work, I can usually get it. It also means that I don't get bored with it. I can turn up all enthusiastic, whirl around like a mini-dervish and bugger off again to eat fish and chips with my Boy.
I've also discovered that I'm a lousy star-spotter. Yesterday, I was on fire. I was selling like a little demon. I made two really big sales which sorted our targets for male fragrances before mid-day. About mid-day, I approached a past-middle aged gentleman in a very unflattering hat. However, I am professionalism embodied. He enquired about skin-care ranges, I pointed him towards Dr Hauschka (which is amazing) gave him a bit of info as I led him over to the other section. In awhile he went off and my colleague who I'd led him to said in hushed, awed tones:
"You know who that was?" says she.
"No," says I. She tells me three times who it was, and I still don't believe her. He was big in the 70s, brilliant in the 80s and is still around in various repeats on cable. He's also a well-known Norfolk resident. In his hey-day, I rather fancied his Irish good looks.
Unfortunately, I was blissfully unaware. Or perhaps, from his perspective, fortunately.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Calvin Klein ~ CKIN2U
This is my favourite of the new fragraces released over the spring. The blurb goes a bit like this: 'CK IN2U, a fragrance duo inspired by the connected generation "expressing its freedom thanks to new technologies"'. It goes on to describe the fragrance as: 'notes of pink grapefruit, bergamot, currant leaves, sugared orchid accord, white cactus, neon amber, vanilla souffle and red cedar'. It is partially laziness which has led to me cutting and pasting, but also I am falling in love with their PR's bullshitese. Especially since the people who have ended up buying this from me today all tended to be in their 30s and 40s - not the intended young, hip'n'groovy demographic.
Two of my colleagues were in London being trained up yesterday. I now know that when applying perfume, doing the wrist rub and spraying on your neck is a complete no-no. Rubbing the fragrance breaks down the constituents, disrupts the way it's supposed to smell and causes the fragrance to fade too quickly. Instead, one should spray your wrists separately, spray the perfume into the scallops between your shoulders and neck. Don't spray it onto your neck because the skin is very delicate there and the alcohol in the perfume can lead to wrinkles, sagging and general unpleasantness long term. If you find a fragrance you like, but when you put it on your skin, people are asking where you've hidden the dead cat, spray on the outer layer of your clothes. Also, don't put behind your ears, because ears get oily and it'll distort the fragrance. Apparently, a fragrance can be affected by your diet, hormonal changes and stress levels.
Today has been a touch stressful. The League of Shoplifters decided to come a-calling and tried to walk off with our profits. Fortunately, my colleagues are less trusting and more on the ball than I, and they got security to catch their dishonest asses. One lad was very apologetic and gave a practised puppy dog look and kept apologising, which worked until he was searched. He'd stopped off at a few other retail outlets before ours. Pops always said to me that when considering theft as a viable option, you need to consider the consequences of getting caught. Is it worth the hassle of being nicked, the fines/court appearance and doing time? Had the lad used this equation, nicking £40 worth of fragrance is going to turn into at least £80 worth of hassle. Also, if he was going to sell it black market-like, if he saw a tenner for his trouble he would have been lucky.
The only crime I thought 'yeah, I'd have risked it' was a city heist where a woman and her partner embezzled £21 million in the late 80s. Well, they say everyone has their price, now you know you'll never be able to trust me with more than £20 million.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Hermes ~ Eau de Merveilles
Today, I have been frustrated with my young, awfully sweet but dim work colleagues. She's really lovely, but bless her, she never worked in a pub. My dad H had a pub in North Norfolk, and when I was 18 I started working for him. After 2 years of working together we stopped talking to each other for 6 months and it was another 4 years before I would work with him again. Ours was a tempestuous relationship to say the least. Earlier this year when I was back in Trinidad I made certain I sat down and said what a difference his training made to my working practice. I can talk to customers, I can go into a strange and stressful situation and make myself useful with minimum supervision. And that was all down to him. He was so chuffed that we had that conversation.
The problem is, I think that everyone should attempt to be punctual, they should clean things that need dusting and re-arrange shelves when necessary, customers should be approached. Or at the very least, appear up for it. My colleague had no get up and go. She was willing, bless her and would happily do a task if asked. But I did get a bit frustrated with her staring into space, and her friend whose half hour break turned into 50 mins.
Writing this has been good for me. It reminded me that my working practice was learned. I'm only the 'as and when' person, so it doesn't matter what I think, it's not my place to train her up, or to even worry about her. I'm working a four day stretch and OMG my feet hurt. They want me to dress up tomorrow and there is no way I can. I can just about get away with my flat shoes at the moment; the thought of putting on heels, to stand up 7.5 hours...nope, it just ain't gonna happen.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Ch-ch-ch-changes
Welcome to my new look blog. Blame it on Sanddancer. I have been happy with my blog and how it's looked since I set it up; and then I saw her changes. I thought, hmmm...so I had look in the templates, saw this and liked it much.
I have crawled out of my Pit of Despair and while I'm not exactly feeling on top form, I'm not curled up in the foetal position under my desk either. I've done my 3 poems and I might see if I can do a few more (it always pays to have extra). My prose is finished, but I'm still struggling with the ending. Lacks a bit of punch. At the moment I'm 600 words over my limit and I'm loathe to cut them, especially since I'll probably be adding to them a bit later today. It's all part of the craft. Editing has got to be the most tedious, but most necessary part of the process. As a writer, you have to be prepared to delete your most favourite bits of writing. Not for the faint hearted.
I realised that I hadn't appraised you on my work situation for some time now. I'm still working on a casual basis for the department store and still having fun. I find that selling perfumes and cosmetics is a frivolous and fun way to pay for my coffees and paninnis. The Great British Public are an endless sourse of amusement and material; and I must say I am very fond of them.
On Saturdays, the Perfumery dept discards the black and white uniform in favour of brightly coloured tops and lots of cleavage. Yesterday was a bit of an exception. In support of a local charity, they decided to host some activities which included a raffle, prize draw and the cosmetic houses were doing mini-makeovers. The regular girls were dressed in kaftans, I was dressed in pink. I had lots of fun acosting people and getting them to dip into their pockets for raffle tickets. I don't mean to boast, but towards the end of the day, my bucket was getting very heavy.
I did however, have an interesting encounter, with a very large lady. She had been asked to make a donation on one door and refused, and when she spotted me standing further in store, she pounced.
"Why do you feel it necessary to ask people for donations? I feel really uncomfortable saying 'no'. It put me in a really awkward position."
Whoa.
I explained what we were doing and why. It turns out the lady was also fundraising for the same organisation. At the end of the conversation, I still wasn't sure why she was so unhappy. People who take up a bucket, or leaflets, or samples, or any kind of traffic stopping work, expect rejection. It's nice when whoever approached is polite, or has a smile with the shake of the head; but that's the icing on the cake. The cake itself is people who just walk away, people who put their hand up in your face, people who ignore you. I wasn't worried about the rejection and I didn't think any worse of anyone who did. I myself don't support any particular charity on a regular basis, though I do voluntary work when I can. So I was a bit taken aback by this woman's discomfort.
However, this anecdote does have a happy ending. After quite a lengthy conversation and a few empathetic statements "I'm sorry you felt uncomfortable about saying 'no'", she dipped into her pockets and bought some raffle tickets.
I have crawled out of my Pit of Despair and while I'm not exactly feeling on top form, I'm not curled up in the foetal position under my desk either. I've done my 3 poems and I might see if I can do a few more (it always pays to have extra). My prose is finished, but I'm still struggling with the ending. Lacks a bit of punch. At the moment I'm 600 words over my limit and I'm loathe to cut them, especially since I'll probably be adding to them a bit later today. It's all part of the craft. Editing has got to be the most tedious, but most necessary part of the process. As a writer, you have to be prepared to delete your most favourite bits of writing. Not for the faint hearted.
I realised that I hadn't appraised you on my work situation for some time now. I'm still working on a casual basis for the department store and still having fun. I find that selling perfumes and cosmetics is a frivolous and fun way to pay for my coffees and paninnis. The Great British Public are an endless sourse of amusement and material; and I must say I am very fond of them.
On Saturdays, the Perfumery dept discards the black and white uniform in favour of brightly coloured tops and lots of cleavage. Yesterday was a bit of an exception. In support of a local charity, they decided to host some activities which included a raffle, prize draw and the cosmetic houses were doing mini-makeovers. The regular girls were dressed in kaftans, I was dressed in pink. I had lots of fun acosting people and getting them to dip into their pockets for raffle tickets. I don't mean to boast, but towards the end of the day, my bucket was getting very heavy.
I did however, have an interesting encounter, with a very large lady. She had been asked to make a donation on one door and refused, and when she spotted me standing further in store, she pounced.
"Why do you feel it necessary to ask people for donations? I feel really uncomfortable saying 'no'. It put me in a really awkward position."
Whoa.
I explained what we were doing and why. It turns out the lady was also fundraising for the same organisation. At the end of the conversation, I still wasn't sure why she was so unhappy. People who take up a bucket, or leaflets, or samples, or any kind of traffic stopping work, expect rejection. It's nice when whoever approached is polite, or has a smile with the shake of the head; but that's the icing on the cake. The cake itself is people who just walk away, people who put their hand up in your face, people who ignore you. I wasn't worried about the rejection and I didn't think any worse of anyone who did. I myself don't support any particular charity on a regular basis, though I do voluntary work when I can. So I was a bit taken aback by this woman's discomfort.
However, this anecdote does have a happy ending. After quite a lengthy conversation and a few empathetic statements "I'm sorry you felt uncomfortable about saying 'no'", she dipped into her pockets and bought some raffle tickets.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Sucker Part Deux!
Having said that, it's an easy job. I answer the phone, take money, talk to clients. In between that I can write and study as much as I want. I realised it's the first time I had solidly sitting in front of a desk with just pen and paper. It gave me the space to collect my scattered thoughts and formulate a plan of action. Not only that, but I also had a massage.
One day I will become a qualified aromatherapist. A proper one. Not to make money, but purely for the joy of massage. Massage is wonderful to give and fabulous to receive. With all those yummy essential oils it is the best way to spend an hour. When I'm rich and famous I am going to have a massage every week. I lurve it. Anyway, there was a practitioner who specialises in remedial massage. I didn't really take much notice of the word before the interesting bit, I was too busy salivating. So I troop up for my 45 mins of luxury, I was thinking how fabulous I would feel after. Yeah. Remedial means painful. As in she found all of the knots in and under my shoulder blades pummelled and pressed each one until they gave up and slunk away. She said there were two things wrong with my shoulders. Firstly, they should not be on the same level as my ears. Secondly, they aren't supposed to be covering up my boobs. Quite.
So I'm sat here with very sore neck and shoulders trying to decide what I'm going to do tomorrow. I've been very naughty and with the money my Pops has given me as an early Christmas present I bought a digital camera and bits. I've been stroking it all evening. It's only a cheap one, but it's mine bwahahahaha....all mine....
Saturday, November 11, 2006
The Day Ahead
I actually started working on my dissertation yesterday and hope to do some more today, after boy goes off. Tomorrow, I suspect will be a write-off, but I've got until Tuesday to do the 1,500 word proposal. Wish me luck.
While I was getting my daily web-fix, Northern Monkey raised a very interesting question - how much does the Internet play in peoples' daily lives. Taking that a step further, I would ask 'how much is too much or too little?'
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