Werk

I’m trying to look busy as I work my notice at current job* and it’s tiring frankly, because I have next to nothing to do, except answer the phone and shuffle papers from one end of my desk to the other.

There are 10 more working days left until I blow this popsicle stand forever and although I have heaps of cool stuff coming up over the next few weeks, part of me wishes I could fast forward time – I’m gagging to start the next phase, so sue me.

All this has got me thinking about the jobs I’ve had since I left school, some have been truly wacky and educational, while others have been dreadful. I’ve been telling anyone who will listen that this job has been the worst, but has it? Worse than the twenty-five minutes I lasted plucking turkeys on a farm at Christmas time? Let’s revisit my CV highlights.

Oldies but Goodies

My first job was doe-eyed care assistant in a home for the elderly (and criminally insane). (Kidding, I wish). Yes, I was a professional bum wiper during my school/college days and mostly, it was a rewarding experience.

My boss, a German lady who walked with a pronounced limp and chewed Nicorette 24/7 made things less bearable. Rumour has it she was a former lush who’d fallen out of a moving plane onto the runway, hence the gammy leg. She fired me for having pierced ears after a couple years of service and by then I was happy to go (how dare a teenager have pierced ears though!).

Slightly awkward when my Gramps ended up there as a resident himself many years later but the staff took care of him until the very end, for which I am grateful.

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Plucking Turkeys

One December, my BFFs and I thought it would be fun to go and pluck turkeys for some extra Christmas cash. What honestly could go wrong?, we thought. What we hadn’t accounted for was the total horror show that awaited us. Turns out, this was never going to be the sterile scene we were picturing. Instead, we were lead into a barn (Leatherface’s barn in Texas Chainsaw), given gloves and a rubber (?) apron and told to wait.

Knee deep in bloody feathers and god only knows what else, my stomach had already started to turn when the actual turkeys were brought in and hung by the feet on hooks in front of us. We could hear the poor gobbly bastards having their throats cut in the barn next door and it turns out, you’re supposed to pluck your birds while they’re still warm because the feather comes out much easier. In my story I lasted 25 minutes but the truth is, I can’t remember even touching a turkey. I believe I freaked out there and then and was gone before it even stopped twitching, Joanna, Juliet and Faye close behind me.

Porn Shop

I’ve talked about my time at Daisy Publications before and to be honest, I still think of it fondly, even though it opened up my eyes in ways that probably weren’t necessary at that age (22). We dealt in an awful lot of filth and now I can look back and giggle about it but at the time, well I learnt quickly that there are pockets of kinkiness all over the place, literally something for everyone. Is that a bad thing?

To each his (or her) own I say, as long as you’re not hurting anybody but my god, I don’t want to see it. This might explain why I’m so vanilla in my old age.

Packages Ahoy

I’ve only ever walked out of one job in an R-E-S-P-E-C-T manner and it was after a short stint at the UPS store in Penticton, BC. The job itself was 90% helping people use the copier but one day the boss was so mean to me because I fucked up some shrink wrapping on some business cards, that I walked into the back, grabbed my coat and was gone before he had a chance to draw his next breath.

I remember that feeling of total liberation as I sashayed down Main Street, hips a swinging like it was yesterday. Looking back that was the beginning of the new life I built for myself, a sassier one where I told a lot more men to fuck off.

Starbucks: The Early Years

I by no means look back on my job as a green-aproned Barista with vitriol, however the early days took a bit of getting used to. This too was a job in small town British Columbia and I ended up loving it but for the first few months it got really tiring being asked if I knew the Queen of England.

The girls too, apart from my beloved Rebecca, all went to church and didn’t like cursing or sex talk, my life blood. So for a while I was the Billy No Mates of Cherry Tree Mall. It changed one day however and I never looked back, moving to Down Town Vancouver and meeting some of the loves of my life.

Those genuinely were the days and although I still remember how much my feet and hips ached after each shift, I sometimes miss the job. I do not miss the toilets, though.

 

After all this I’m pretty sure I can survive a few more weeks in a job that didn’t work out. I’m not going to let the negatives break my spirit. I didn’t then, I won’t start now.

How about you? What have been your weirdest most wonderful jobs?

*Horrible job.

Work Work Work Work

I have some happy news to share and honestly I’m very delighted. Like beaming all the time delighted.

I have a new job!

Anyone who knows me will know I’ve been miserable for quite a while now in my current role and there have been times I’ve returned home on a wave of hot tears. The anxiety and stress have been real, and I’ve doubted myself at every turn. And although I have a really amazing and solid immediate team, it’s been everything outside that that has had me reaching for the headache pills every other day.

I opened up about anxiety not long ago and although I can’t honestly blame every little issue on the workplace, I have a strong feeling that chasing my happy with go a long way to helping.

So I’m going to work for a printing firm and I already know the team quite well through my current job. I wouldn’t say I was head-hunted exactly but I am aware that my professional conduct (and sparkling personality) are why I was hired. Which is amazing to me considering how low my own self-belief has been for years.

I don’t know what I want to do forever (and that’s okay) but I do know that I like learning new things and this is a new challenge I can get behind. Who knows where it could lead? For now I’m just going to be thankful for the way things have come together and bloody relieved I won’t be turning 40 in a job I don’t enjoy anymore fucking hate.

Happy day! 🎉🎉🎉

Big/The Natural World

I could say it’s been a busy week but it hasn’t really, I’ve just had other things on. But I’ve still been keeping up with my #photo101 assignments and today is a double whammy!

(I have skipped one so far, which was Bliss and I didn’t technically miss it, I want to focus on it more, so might sign off this course with my entry. We’ll see!)

So to yesterday and today’s posts.

Today, think big. Offer a unique point of view as you photograph something of great size. Via Photography 101: Big (10th March 2015)

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This is the building I work in. It’s massive. This is a view from the top taken upwards, bending at the waist. I’ve cropped it which perhaps loses something in the illustration of just how big it is. Just take it from me that this grey monster is a massive part of my life (sometimes not in the good way).

Capture a moment, big or small, and pay attention to the lines and curves produced by nature. Via Photography 101: The Natural World (11th March 2015)

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Flowers pretty much speak for themselves but I like this contrast between the pretty and delicate, and the grey concrete of our outdoor work environment. Proof even beautiful things can grow out of seemingly nothing.

Happy snapping all!

A Moment in Time

What was the last picture you took? Tell us the story behind it. Via The Daily Post (20th January 2015)

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This is the last good picture I took. I sure as Hell photograph a lot of things I think are funny/cute that don’t deserve the light of day (selfies, aside). This was taken in the rickety old building I work in that is almost pitch black after 5pm in the Winter.

This means any trips to the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter, are conducted almost entirely in the dark. It gets most stressful if you have an imagination like mine. I think the building would be the perfect setting location for a slasher/horror movie.

Aside from that, the toilets are actually haunted. Word is that our ghoul likes to flit between male and female bathrooms, indiscriminately, so we can’t decipher gender. All we do know is that it likes to set off the hand dryer while you’re in the middle of business. If you’re in there alone, you can often hear footsteps and I swear it’s accompanied by the sound of beads clanking together. I’m thinking monk or nun.

One night it whispered “hello” into a colleague’s ear as she walked out. We’ve taken to calling our ghost Fergal, regardless of anything.

I like this picture because it’s atmospheric. It makes me appreciate my work place more. It’s a run down building with not much going for it except character.

I like character in my surroundings.

Ready, Set, Done

Our ten-minute free-write is back! Have no mercy on your keyboard as you give us your most unfiltered self. Via The Daily Post

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An accurate photographical depiction of where my head’s at

I’ve recently been doing so much proofing and other stuff for work, and stressing while I do it, that my own creative endeavors, even reading my choice of literature at the end of an evening, has gone out of the window.

This is turn, I really believe, makes me a very dull human being indeed. I need to be stimulated, creating, thinking to make this thing called life work. Without it, I am nothing but a drone.

What is the point without passion? This week has been an angry week without creative joy and I know it is my responsibility, and well within my own power, to change this.

So Pretty Woman is on Netflix (hey, the soundtrack is exquisite) and I’m going to free flow this bad boy and clear my head for a fresh and exciting new week. You in?

Where to start? First off, it’s so damned cold out. Have you ever noticed that the conversation is already over the minute the person you’re speaking to starts talking about the weather? It’s such a British thing to talk about how hot/chilly/wet it is out there.

My best friend and I used to consider small talk of this nature the nail in the coffin of conversation. Working as Baristas, it’s all we’d talk about.

“How are you?”
“Cold.”
“… What can I get you?”

The Art of Conversation was not designed to be mastered over the condiment counter, of course so I probably shouldn’t be so hard on the people who have just walked in, probably to avoid talking to anybody. It’s why I go for coffee, after all – for the peace and quiet.

So it’s cold and I’m actually happy about that. Coats and boots and scarves and hot chocolate and blankets; they make me happy. PJs to walk up the road to my BFF’s house make me happy. New hats make me smile.

I like cosy. I am staunchly pro-hibernation.

I don’t like my job at the moment, despite the amazing people I work with (mostly). I like the actual work for the most part and have been given the opportunity to do a little bit of writing, which of course is what I would like to be doing professionally. But I despair of the office politics.

I feel sometimes as though I am losing myself. I hate having to bite my tongue, be patient with stupid people. I hate having to shrug and accept things that anyone can see aren’t working. Sadly, as an assistant there’s not much I can do about that right now.

Perhaps the answer is to look elsewhere for professional fulfillment but I’ve put in the time, done the work, worked my way up; why should I? I feel like I should see it through and stay committed. Like a pitbull with a bone between her teeth.

I guess all I can do is wait and see, quietly work out what’s best for me.

Elsewhere, life is good. Life is hard but good and joyful. Life would be boring if it were perfect, I guess that’s one way to look at it.

Hallow-Hell-Yes!

Or How I Learned to Love My Curves and Respect the Bum: Halloween Edition*

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There was a time when I was so self-conscious about my body that I would tie my jacket around my middle to ‘hide’ all my imperfections.

If I could help it, I wouldn’t get up and walk past anyone I didn’t know. I would never approach the bar in a pub and would fret like nobody’s business if I had to get off the bus in front of a gang of youths in case they shouted abuse at me, like they had nothing better to do.

It wasn’t a good scene, man and I was miserable, often sweating away in a heavy leather jacket as the Summer came and went. Then somewhere, somehow it got better and I learnt about self-esteem.

It wobbles some days, of course, but in general I’m cool with what I have. I have all but put those silly notions out of my head. Perhaps people do whisper mean things about me, but I don’t hear them anymore. The freedom gained from learning to love yourself (for the most part) is incredible, but 1000 time better than that.

But this is the Halloween edition of my relationship with myself and so on to that.

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Last year’s Halloween ensemble

Last year I got fed up with the party-pooperness of my fellow workmates and went to work dressed as a cat.

It was a half-arsed attempt to prove some sort of point, and I didn’t exactly thrown my back into it. A smudge of black eyeliner, whiskers and a darling little black nose topped off my glittery cat’s eye mask to perfection, and that was that.

It’s a weird feeling to be over dressed in public. It feels almost completely the opposite, as if you have omitted to put on underwear (or anything else) and have skipped into the workplace as naked as the day you were born.

Anyway, this year I have found myself organising a Halloween event to raise money for Macmillan, which is both great for the charity but also, the best ever way to ensure that I’m not alone in dressing up this year! I’m not going to reveal my outfit ideas just yet, but I will say, I have more than one.

Since I am also going to a party on the Saturday, what choice had I but to have two amazing costumes, hmmmm? Which leads me to the point I was trying to make with this entire post.

#bighint (Can you guess who'll I'll be?)
#hint (Can you guess?)

My work costume is pretty tame in terms of flesh to costume ratio because who needs to be confronted by my heaving bosoms when they’re trying to go about their daily business? Nobody that’s who. So it’s cool and comic booky – but very much buttoned up.

Saturday night is another matter. Again, I’m referencing one of my all-time favourite characters (also comic book), but this time it’s going to a little bit more risqué.

Full on busty, bare shouldered with a cinched waist. If I’m feeling it on the night, there will be fishnets. Basically, it will be a million light years away from the sad girl in the corner, too paranoid to actually get up and have a good time.

I simply don’t give a fuck about worrying anymore, I want to be part of the real action this year.

It’ll be just wonderful**

* Sorry 😦

** #hinthint