New in the World of Me

Actually, not too much is new in the world of me, at the moment. Still working at the pizza place, still in the tiny room in the house in the middle of nowhere, still happy and content to a fault.

It's really sunny and beautiful out and really, I should be outside enjoying it - or at the very least, I should be putting the laundry in the washing machine now so that it can be be dry by tomorrow.

We went to Bournemouth the day before yesterday and had a grand time there. Other than being slightly less touristy, it doesn't really seem to be different from Brighton in any significant way. But it was a good day, spent with friends, and full of moments of quiet squee.

In other news, I designed another new T shirt (see the Jeff Goldblum dinosaur to the right). Have to say, I'm pretty pleased with it (Hehe, pretty pleased).

There was one other thing I was going to mention, but now I can't remember what it was. I hate when that happens, but it happens so frequently now that I'm pretty much used to it. Need more B12, I guess.

Additional: I remembered what it was. I was going to say that I'm quite pleased that Blogger finally introduced separate pages - but thinking about it, finally might be stretching it a bit; a few years ago, I looked into it and there was no way to have more than one page, and it never occured to me to check to see if that had changed until I visited this blog either last week or the week before and found that the author had set up multiple pages.

I Forget

I had so many things to blog about in my mind all day today, but when I actually get the chance to sit down and write something, do you think I can remember any of them? Ah well. I'm leaving Brighton for the first time in 4 months tomorrow; hopefully when I get back, I'll be full of stories.

I Forgot What I was Goin

I saw six bunnies and three foxes last night in the park across the road - all in the space of about five minutes. I didn't get any pics, but it was still pretty cool.

Also, I had kind of a crap night at work last night, on account of messing up my first order in over a month of working there, having a pissed off customer as a result, and having a bunch of guys who work there climb down my throat as a result of that. You know what? I had hit my head, I was dizzy and nauseated and I still came to work. I made two mistakes that anyone could have made, but unfortunately, they were on the same order. I apologized for those mistakes - but I don't know. People kept telling me about them, telling me how important it was that I didn't make mistakes like that, telling me how angry the customer was - as if, maybe if I was contrite enough, I'd be able to go back in time and fix everything. Ugh. It doesn't help that I was the only girl working at this point. One girl in a crowd of men will inevitably be treated differently, whether it means being put on a pedistal, treated like a child, or handed a broom - and for the most part, the guys at work tend to opt for the latter. My bosses are the exception to this; they treat all their employees pretty much the same.

There was another girl on in the early evening. A conversation we had, regarding true events.

Her: Are you tired?
Me: No, I just hit my head last night.
Her: Me too, actually. I hit right on the back of my head.
Me: Me too.
Her: My boyfriend was tickling me.
Me:... You're kidding. Me too.
Her: Really? Anyway, I hit my head off the--
Me: Headboard?
Her: Yeah...
Me: Me too.

So strange, that we would have exactly the same story on the same day, when we work in the same place. I have the life of a seventeen year old.

Well, it's before 8am, so this little piggy is going back to bed. My day off today got turned into a day on, which would be smelly, if I didn't need the hours, and is still kind of smelly because my boyfriend works until the exact time that I need to leave for work, so we won't see each other until late (I didn't make it home until nearly 2 last night).

Le Yawn! Ooh, but I bet there's another Eastenders for me to watch.

Another Big Update

As you can see, I've redone the blog again - or, I should say, I'm in the process of redoing it now. I need a new background, and to add some new pages (and fix the T shirts page) but I'm almost done, for now. I'll probably redo it again in a couple of months, when I have the energy to go in and fiddle with the code.

What else? We moved out of our house and into another at the beginning of May. This place is really small and a million miles away from everything; thankfully, we'll be moving on soon. I'm so tired of moving, but there isn't much for it.

I'm working (finally!) at a pizza place, which is a little embarrassing but ultimately not as bad as it sounds. There are parts of my job that drive me insane, but it's pretty much just a job. Most of the guys there (there are, counting the one that started this week, 5 girls that work there, and over 20 guys) are nice enough. Some are ridiculous and seem to think that because I'm new/female, I'm a) a complete idiot and b) should not be doing anything but bitch work. Luckily, they're in the minority. I really like my bosses, but I wish they would explain to me who is a supervisor and who isn't, so I know who I can tell to stuff it when they wordlessly shove a broom in my face.

In the land of men, I'm perfectly happy with the one I've got... which means that Murphy's Law comes into affect and despite not having gone on a single date during my adulthood pre-M., and despite only being asked out twice between the ages of 16 and 23, I have now, it seems, become a hot commodity. Well. This is a huge exaggeration. But after many years of guys showing next-to-no interest in me, it's really weird. Guys flirt with me on the phone and in person, ask me out, tell me how wonderful I am, despite not really knowing me... call me at really inappropriate times of night, despite knowing that I have a boyfriend... act really awkward around me the next day, as if my annoyance was unjustified... Anyway, even the harmless niceness makes me a bit uncomfortable. And it does, I have to admit, make me wonder where the hell all these guys were from, say ages 12-15 and 16-23. Not that I wish they'd been around; I'm annoyed for my past self, but for my current self, I'm glad they didn't show up.

After what seems like an eternity of being completely drained creatively, I've finally *touch wood* started writing again. It's in dribs and drabs, not the full on, type-like-a-banshee insanity of days of yore, but at least it's something. Once I get my momentum up, I have to decide which project to finish first and just bloody finish it. But for right now, I'm just happy there's something there.

I think that's all of my updatiness for now. I have a million things to do right now, but I'm too cold and tired and hungry to want to do anything other than climb under the covers and nap away the afternoon. Possibly tea could help with this. God, I miss tea.

A Big Update Post

Wow. Need to blog more.

So, I found a place. It's a great place, a huge house in Hove and I think there are eleven of us living here (there may be more; it's all a bit of a mystery). Our bedroom is massive and has bay windows, so until the beginning of May, I'll be pretending I have a lot more money than I do. We have to find a new place to live for May.

I also found a job - and got fired from it. I signed up with a recruitment agency and within a few hours of applying for this job, I had a call back and by the next day, an interview had been set up. The job, as the recruitment agent described it to me, was to call supporters of charities, thank them for their support and ask if they would be comfortable switching the payments they're already making to direct debit. So I went to the interview It lasted two and a half hours and during it I found out that what the job *actually* was was calling people to ask for money, but only at a level they felt comfortable giving and it was definitely not pushy or salesy. I found out a couple days later that I had the job.

The first two days of work were training. Day one, myself and the 7 other people who got hired with me talked with a couple of the supervisors about what charities are, what our role was, etc. I really hate call centres, but the environment seemed really warm and friendly and I liked the way they did things. Over and over again, one of our 'coaches' kept telling us, when we ask for money, it's ok if the supporter says no. They don't have to justify it to us. They don't have to give reasons. If they say no, we simply thank them for their support and move on*. We weren't there to push people or guilt people.

Day two, we spent the morning learning the computer system and the afternoon looking at scripts. The scripts, at first glance, consisted of Thank you for your help, the world is an awful place, we can do something to fix it, more money? - the particular one I spent my brief time at the company calling on started by asking people to triple the amount of money they were already paying monthly. When they say no (which 99% do, because it's RIDICULOUS to call people who are giving you money and ask them to send you three times more), the script goes to the 'second ask' which is basically: I understand you can't afford that much, the world is a horrible place, we can fix it, please can I have twice as much money as you're currently paying? There are other options, of course, like, 'I understand you're on a pension and supporting eight other charities, babies are dying in the streets, please can we have more money? - But even reading through these insane scripts, we were told, over and over, that if they flat out say they can`t afford it, or if they tell you at the beginning that no, they will not increase their payments, that`s fine. Leave it alone. Don`t upset them. Etc, etc.

The other thing they told us on Day 2, was that we should be nice to each other. We should not brag about the number of pledges we`re getting or be all pitying and sympathetic to those getting less than us. If we had a bad day, we should not sigh and moan, because we`re a team and we don`t want to bring each other down.


Day 3, we actually started calling. Pretty much the first thing they did was march out a big board where they wrote down how many pledges we were each getting. It of course included the people who had been there six weeks longer than us, so the newbies looked a little sad and inept on that board, but we trudged on.

Each day, the approach changed slightly. Suddenly, it was no longer, If they say no, that`s fine. Suddenly, just saying No meant they were waffling a bit and could be persuaded to up their donations. Suddenly, the justifications and reasons for not being able to increase (which people, particularly older people, feel obliged to give when you tell them the world is coming to an end and children and puppies are dying and it`s all going to be their fault if they don`t help) are excuses - and the same nice, friendly people who told us not to push, not to be salesy, that supporters don`t have to justify themselves to us are saying that most people could afford a few extra quid a month, if they really wanted to... and isn`t it annoying how supporters lie about why they aren`t giving more?

So, to be honest, I fully intended to find something else, then quit. But, in the meantime, I decided to do my job to the best of my ability, as much as I hated it, because I was being paid to. So I negotiated as much as I could (morally could, I mean. There is a limit to how far I`m willing to go for money and making people who spend their state pension on charities feel bad for the help they`re offering the world surpasses that limit), listened to the coaches`conflicting advice on how to get more pledges (Be more upbeat, be more urgent, be more indignant, be friendlier, speak lower, speak louder, slow it down, speak faster, be more familiar, be more professional, put more passion into it, be more confident), tried to follow what I could when it didn`t directly conflict with something someone higher up had told me. I was a good little worker bee and put up with them coming and pulling the same demoralizing bullshit they had warned us against, smiled when they hovered behind me while I was on the phone and smiled when then asked me what went wrong if I didn`t get a pledge. I even, on my last night of work, kept my composure when one of the coaches came and told me everything I was doing wrong on a call where I got a pledge, then came back to gloat about how her advice had helped me get another pledge (even though I hadn`t followed it because it went against the only advice I`d been given which had actually helped) - I smiled through all of it... and for my troubles, I was fired.

They weren`t even going to tell me. The lazy bastards were going to wait until I had walked into town for my next shift (yesterday morning) to let me know I`d been sacked. The only reason I found out is that they did tell my recruitment agent, and she decided it might be nice to call me and let me know, so I wouldn`t waste my time slogging into work.

So now I need to start looking for something new. Le Blah. I was going to anyway, but this puts a little more pressure on, money-wise. Boo to the urns.

So, the job hunt and house hunt resume. Also, I have a million to write.

Also, I remain happy and smiling. Nothing seems to be able to keep me down for long - *knock on wood*


*The company I was working for works on behalf of a number of very well known charities, though I can't tell you their names or the company's name; confidentiality agreement.

House Hunting

From what I can gather, British TV falls into 4 categories: Antiques, Cooking, Property and Col. Gaddafi*.

The shows about property always amaze me. You get this middle class British family saying, "Well, we don't really want to go over 800,000 pounds." WhereTF did you get 800,000 pounds? WHERE? Minimum wage here is less than in Canada, and it seems like every one is getting laid off or having their jobs cut. I want 800 K. It would make my life so much easier.

At the moment (well, not right at the moment, since right at the moment, I'm writing this blog) I'm looking for a place. Finding cheap accommodation in a place like Brighton definitely isn't easy, but it's not as hard as, say, finding cheap accommodation with its own w.c. British people share these, it seems. Also, they often share shower rooms. It's a strange ol' world.

Brighton remains lovely and life remains wonderful, despite my still not being able to work and my being rather sick (I've been sick for days. I don't like it). It seems like I'm always fuzzy headed, either from the drugs or the lack thereof, but everything will be worked out soon, I know it (*knock on wood*)

Ok, cutting this short. I'm going to get myself into trouble if I spend the day in bed and blogging, so it's back to the house hunt for me.



*Also East Enders.