Archive for March, 2009

Hunting’s Not Just for the Kids

March 30, 2009

Yesterday as The Boyfriend and I laid in bed, refusing to get up (which I am sure was in no way caused by an excess of alcohol consumption at the Hangi the night before), we talked about our plans for Easter. We’d already delayed the morning’s start by getting up earlier, making toasted sandwiches and coffee, and bringing them all back to bed on a tray while we watched a movie. (Revolutionary Road. Which if you ask me was depressing. Everyone ends up unhappy in the end.)

We’ve invited one of my best friends and her 2 kids to spend the Easter long weekend at our holiday house on the South Coast of NSW.  I rattled on for ageas about what fun things we’d be doing and how I’ve been madly buying little easter eggs and planning an Easter Egg Hunt for the 2 girls.

The Boyfriend nodded and agreed with everything I planned. Then he asked “So when the kids have finished, are they going to do an adult Easter hunt for us?” He went on to add, “Can you imagine how cool it would be to hunt through the back yard, suddenly screaming out, “YAY! I found a scotch and coke behind this tree!”

If it wasn’t such a brilliant idea I’d have laughed at him. Instead I’ve been trying to work out how to have an adult Easter Hunt without scarring the kids for life.


Poetry in Motion

March 27, 2009

Ah, Friday. Poets Day. Couldn’t come a minute too soon either. Life remains busy while I learn the ins and outs of the new job. Should I worry that if asked what I have learned about my new job, I would answer “The toilet paper is softer at the old office, and the handtowells were better quality there too”? Of course, now that I have my new office set up, I’ve discovered I am being moved to another floor. The only thing that really impacts me is the extra half hour each way in the commute – being away for an extra hour or two a day seems to still take its toll on me, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually.

Late at night I think over the funny things that happened to me that day, and draft blog posts in my mind. However by morning I have forgotten just what it was. It is quite possible that half asleep mind ramblings aren’t so funny in the light of day. I’ll see if I can come up with material over the weekend instead. I’m going to a hangi tomorrow, and I suspect that will be rich in content. Never having attended one before, I’m quite interested to see how it is done.

Happy Friday, and don’t forget it’s Poets Day!

Oh, Noes!

March 17, 2009

The executive wing at work, where I now reside for much of my Monday to Friday waking hours? The toilets are unisex. I’m not sure why, but I can’t even pretend to be happy about that.

Sundresses and Suits

March 17, 2009

With my new job at work, I have moved to a different office. Today’s my first day full time at the new office. It didn’t start well – the free bus that the business park my new office is in provides from a nearby station was nowhere to be found, and after wandering around Central for half an hour I gave up and got a taxi, lest I be late. (Note to business park owners: Railway Square is HUGE and has SQUILLIONS of busses going through it – I need more location information than ‘Railway Square’, you dolts!)

Although part of the same company, the new division of the business I work for is slightly different to the old one. I can see this manifesting in several ways so far, although I am sure to find more.

This business is over 80% women. Which is the complete opposite to where I was before. (I wonder if they knew I actually get on better with men before they offered me the job? No, I’m pretty sure that did not come up in the interview, and if it had I would not have gotten the job, because I would have said something lewd.)

The ‘class divide’ between executive and other staff seems to be punctuated by attire. All the executive, whether men or women, wear nice suits. I don’t think I can even get away with pants any more, even when worn as a suit with a matching jacket. (As I type this I am sitting in my office with my uncomfortable heels kicked off under the desk, my jacket slung over the back of my chair, and my too-tight-after-the-ham-and-cheese-croissant skirt is unzipped at the back. Hmm, I should possibly rethink this in case someone comes to see me. OK, now it is only half unzipped, and I am pretty sure it won’t fall off completely if I have to stand up to greet someone. Not entirely sure, but pretty sure, and hey you have to have SOME kind of excitement in life, don’t you. Anyway. As I was saying. All the non executive staff (the women, anyway) seem to wear sundresses and sandals. To work. Strappy spaghetti string tiny short dresses that I might wear to the beach but probably not anywhere else. Hmm. These women I do not understand. Many of them seem to flick their hair around alot and laugh, little tinking laughs that make me want to poke my eardrums out with a sharp pencil. Luckily my office has a door. Sadly, one wall is made from glass, so I cannot slip into comfy tracky pants and t shirts when hiding in there. Also sadly, there is no TV.

And sadly for you? You may hear lots about my newest annoying colleague. He sits right outside my door. I have not yet heard him say a sentence without turning it into a question by adding “Right?” to the end of it. I might keep a hold of that sharp pencil in case I feel any sudden urges coming on.

Finally: My nearest kitchen is covered in signs saying “Executive kitchen only. All other staff to use kitchen at end of corridor”. I’m not sure if I count as an executive or other staff. I’m frightened of being kicked out of the kitchen any time I go near it. Of course, this only came to me after having put my lunch in the fridge there this morning. I hope I don’t have to go and search the rest of the executive wing for my leftovers at lunch time.

Act Your Age!

March 16, 2009

People often comment that they are surprised to learn my age, they always think I’m younger than I am. Actually, it’s caused me a few issues at work before, with people not realising I could in fact have enough experience to do a role, because I’m older than I look. I’m now wondering if perhaps it’s not my looks but my maturity that makes people wonder how old I am 🙂

You Act Like You Are 24 Years Old

You are a twenty-something at heart. You feel like an adult, and you’re optimistic about life.
You feel excited about what’s to come… love, work, and new experiences.

You’re still figuring out your place in the world and how you want your life to shape up.
The world is full of possibilities, and you can’t wait to explore many of them.

What Age Do You Act?

Lock In

March 12, 2009

Last  night The Boyfriend and I stayed at his place. His house is a very old one (for an Aussie house, anyway) and his bedroom is set up in the back of the house – where the maids quarters used to be many moons ago. Anyway, because of the unusual house design, his bedroom actually opens onto a large balcony between the main part of the house and the back of the house. Why do you need to know all this? It helps you understand why the door has an outside lock – because you can get to it without going through the rest of the house. So it is an external door, with external door locks on it.

I’m not completely sure how we did it,  but last night we managed to deadlock ourselves inside the bedroom. The keys? Oh, they were in the lock. On the outside of the door. I guess it’s lucky we discovered it last night rather than this morning, when the mad dash to get ready for work leaves us short of time every single day.

And that’s why we had to make a (rather embarrassing) phone call to his dad last night asking if he could come over and rescue us, as we were deadlocked in our room.

Keeping my Funny

March 4, 2009

This week’s turning me into a zombie. I have started the new job, the promotion I worked on getting for months. I really need to hand over tasks from the old job but am failing as yet – too busy with the new job and the “B” word (Budgets) to do it. Which just means that the old job’s fallen behind, and now I need to find time to get that up to date before I then document what I did and hand it over to some poor sap who really doesn’t want extra work. Long lunches and coffee breaks have become a thing of the past. I’m holding it together, but only just – I feel it physically when I’m stressed, and boy am I stressed.

I am trying to at least pretend I’ve got it all under control, and be my usual light hearted self. A perfect opportunity arose today. The old boss returned from a couple of days off today. His rather distinguished salt and pepper hair was dark. Not just darker, almost black. All he had to say as he arrived was “NOT ONE WORD, ANY OF YOU!” He looked – well let’s just say within seconds I was getting instant messages from across the floor saying “What’s up with the HAIR”. So I wandered into his office, for as you would know I love to taunt him and push the line as far as I can, and sweetly said, while indicating to my own hair “My horoscope mentioned something today about a tall, dark man. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” He told me to piss off, and said “Only if it mentioned a stupid looking man”. (Then I felt bad for making fun of him.)

The old boss sure has worked out the best way to deal with the problem. All of those of us that laughed and pointed at him have now been sent a message asking to sponsor him for a charity shave day supporting the Leukaemia Foundation. He’s selling it as “I dyed it specifically because it’s all going soon, I’m not doing the shave to get rid of a mistake!” Whatever, I was happy to contribute – I want that ugly thing off his head, I can’t look at anything else while talking to him, my eyes are drawn to his hair. I think the best way to describe it is to imagine if a bald man killed a small black rodent and skinned it, and glued the hide to their head. Bonus! I’m supporting a worthwhile cause. Of course that’s the real reason! Really!