Category Archives: The Job

Apr8

Aborted rant

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Well. I’ve gone quiet for a bit. I have things to post, oh yes. I can’t seem to make myself want to interact much. I’m a bit sad about missing the responses, you see. I post late at night, Irish time, and all the comments come in when I’m asleep – I love responding in ‘real time.’ Even if I set this doowhazizz to post at a later time, I’d be at work when my friends visit. All blogs are blocked at work, too. I can use the WP app to respond but I really like seeing a comment in situ when I reply – okay, that’s a bit odd perhaps. It’s a visual thing. I also enjoy sitting here, writing my heart out, and hitting ‘publish.’ I’d miss that just a bit too much.

Today, Margaret Thatcher finally died. I didn’t know much about her when I was living in the USA – I do recall the Falklands War, but I wasn’t interested in the politics of it. I never heard about the coal miners, or her support of apartheid, or how she let Irish men starve to death in prison rather than concede that the UK and Ireland were at war. Now that I’m married to an Irishman I’ve heard about these things, and I’ve heard again every time her face was on telly: will she just hurry up and die already?!? So, iDJ is happy, if you can say that. You know what? I can say that, and I just did. He’s glad she’s dead, and I’m happy he’s glad. I expect there will be a Thatcher-themed radio show this Thursday. So there. They should put her in a locked, gated mausoleum to keep away all the people who want to dance (or worse) on her grave. That said, a total stranger just called it ‘utterly pathetic’ that I said we’d opened some sparkling wine tonight for the occasion. Now I’m just a little bit pissed off.

Actually, a bit more than pissed off. If I say something stupid, I expect to be informed of it in a reasonable manner. Not called utterly pathetic. That is the type of interaction I never get here, and thank you all so very much for being reasonable people, or at least ignoring me when I’m irritating.

I couldn’t spell mausoleum to save my life, by the way. I don’t trust that it’s right even now, despite Google saying it is. That’s for you, Tom!

What else… Ah. My life feels like it is on hold, as work told me they would be interviewing and hiring someone to take on my role, and they would be moving me to something I’d much much rather be doing. That was two Mondays ago. No updates. Bollocks. I have no idea what is going on. The relief I felt two weeks ago is dissipating and now I’m coming up with new things to worry about.

Ugh, now I’ve gone and made myself even crankier than usual. I’ve lost interest in my own bitching, so here’s a beautiful photo of Lokii.

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Zoom in. Yes, do. He’s drooling just because he has sunshine. Now, doesn’t that make it all better?

Mar11

appiulstary

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I found this quite unusual word in a work email last week. Appiulstary. Yes, appiulstary.

Any guesses?

Anyone?

Anyone?
(Please hear this in the same tone of voice that Bueller? Bueller? is spoken during roll-call in the excellent 80′s movie, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off).

Now bear in mind the email was from an educated medical professional, who managed to spell the word correctly further down in the same email. Sloppy spell-checking, perhaps.

Sphygmomanometer, no problem. Cirrhosis, leukaemia? no problem. Upholstery? Apparently a problem.

I give points for getting close to spelling it how it is actually pronounced, albeit in a truly creative way.

Dec3

QuickQuiz

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Hey, do I go to work tomorrow or not? Took the day off for a medical appointment, came home to find it cancelled. I have 12 holiday days left before the end of year, which they will pay me for if unused, but I’m also about 2 months behind as there’s so much work.

Answers by comment please, I can’t seem to put up a poll!

Sep18

My Elvis Sighting

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I’ve been reminded of a story from my life that is fun to tell – I hope I can do it justice in writing – this tale, up until today, has only been an oral story.

When I was 30, I was engaged to someone. I also worked in an office, doing distinctly non-officey things. I was a diamond and precious-gem sorter. The work was interesting and educational, but the atmosphere and the owners were terrible. I met the wonderful Socks at at that job, so I would never choose to delete it from my history. The fiancée was a horrible mistake that thankfully never necessitated extraction by legal means.

Short story: I got fired, and I left him. I’d be glad to tell the long stories if you want me to.

Before I left the man, and after I lost the job, I decided I was entirely sick to death of working in an office. Also, with a big ol’ track record of two firings in a row, I didn’t figure I had much hope in the land of phones and desks and computers for a while. So, as I was scouring the adverts in the paper I expanded my usual search parameters. I’d do just about anything; but as you do, I kept an eye open for the things that actually sounded good.

So, I rang to apply for a job at a horse farm. Mucking out stalls, cutting the pastures, etc.

I had at that point maybe five months cumulative lifetime experience with taking care of horses. And I was 30, not too out of shape, but not physically fit either. Not a chance, thinks I.

Somehow I got phone-approval by the owner of the farm and I was told to come out and meet the barn manager for an on-site interview.

Just ask for Elvis, the Barn Manager, he told me.

Whoo, boy, thinks I. No way am I going to pull one over on a professional horse-guy named Elvis who actually manages a barn full of what I had been told were very, very, valuable racehorses. Not a chance. I’m not experienced, I’m not terribly young anymore, and I’ve sat behind a desk most of my life. Fuck it, says I, all I can do is try, right?

So I show up, on time of course (all those office interviews drill that into you quite well). And… Oh my. It’s 20 acres of private property, with an electric buzz-in gate, and a house I that I soon learned was worth 2 million and a barn worth 1mil, and an artificial stream that started near the house and ran gently down to a Koi pond and then a lake. It was beautiful, and perfect, and I was so out of my league!

I wasn’t backing out, but my hopes had totally gone when I saw the fancy gate and the perfectly fenced pastures. Still, I was going to meet someone actually named Elvis! At least I’d have a good story about failed job hunting.

Five seconds after parking and walking up to the barn, my possible story got way more interesting. Elvis came out to meet me; complete with cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, proper cowboy hat, and a blue bandanna around his throat.

Elvis was a black man.

I blinked back my presuppositions based on his name – it never occurred to me that anyone who wasn’t white and from Nashville would name a child Elvis – and I smiled and said I was there to interview for the job of Farm Hand.

Elvis asked a few questions which I answered honestly – nope, I had no clue how to train horses for anything. Nope, never driven a tractor. Nope, no experience with horses injured on the track, or ones about to give birth, or weanlings or yearlings. Nope, nope, nope.

Oh well, thinks I. It was worth it, I tried, and I really like this guy – he’s the real deal, the first cowboy I ever met (he told me he was a former bare-back rodeo rider!), and I’m glad I had a stereotype I didn’t even know that I owned broken so completely and utterly.

Then he told me to go and meet some of the horses, who were still in their stalls awaiting the morning turn-out. Hell, ya! I am so not getting the job, but at least I get to meet some horsies!

He directed me to the first stall in the barn by the door and asked me what I thought of the young filly inside. She came up, stuck her head out, and we had a good old conversation. Me being a bit shy with her, as I really didn’t know where horses liked to be touched, scratched, etc. She was really sweet and put up with my fumbling, however.

When I turned away, Elvis told me I was hired. My jaw must have hit the straw, because he explained why. It seems that this particular horse had a huge fear of everyone, and no one could approach her at all, at all! She was way too old for that attitude, and now she would be ‘my horse’ to gentle for the track.

I spoke Horse, apparently! It was a dream come true, and I worked there all that year and the next summer, too.

But that’s another story.

Sep14

The most fun I’ve had at work

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A little story from work yesterday.

I recieved an email that pointed out yet another problem in our new software. I replied, “Oh, that’s a new one. Thanks for bringing it to our attention. I’m sure that so-and-so whom you cc’d in will send it on to the IT guys.”

A reply was shot right back to me. “Do I get a prize?”

Now, I could take that one of two ways. A) snarky, asshole reply because yes, the stuff is buggy and it’s a pain in the hole. B) Goofing around being silly just because.

I chose B, because my day had not been an absolute nightmare yesterday. My reply: “Sure! I can draw you a picture, what would you like?”

Another very short response: “An elephant dancing on the moon.”

Oh yeah, I can do that! Last night I did, after Oirish Tirsday was at its end.

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Yes, it’s terrible! It’s meant to be. It’s for FUN! My watermark was ‘A Special Prize for ___ from ___!

And today, it was fun. I sent it off about 9:30am and got an iPhone photo back of my drawing, printed in colour and tacked to the wall of her cubicle next to her wedding photo.

Aww! So, so worth it. Not only because I enjoyed making it (I smiled the whole time). I enjoyed sending it and waiting for a response, and I’m hopeful that I’ve probably taken one more person off the list of people who Complain Officially first instead of acting like a human. Score!

Because starting Monday, guess who is managing Official Complaints? I’m also hopeful a manager title goes with it…

Jul17

Sorry, everyone…

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My brain is even more all-over-the-shop than usual… I am so behind on reading everyone else’s blogs and even responding to my own comments. Hoping to get my shit together sometime soonish. I feel…discombobulated.

And again I’m dead impressed that my iPad knows a word like discombobulated. It is smarter than most humans I deal with on a daily basis… Like the TWO people last week who tried to email me. While on the phone with them I said that I needed something in writing; in an email, and I heard, ‘ok, so… http://www.blahblah…’; NO!!! HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A WEBSITE AND EMAIL IN 2012?!?!

Maybe I’m just too work-stressed…

Jun30

Good news all around

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Hooray! I worked today, a Saturday!

Why is that something to ‘hooray’ over, when my weekends are so very damn precious to me?

Because, while I didn’t get to play with our new software (the only reason I said I would come in), I did get to have a chat with the manager of our department about “My Future In The Company.”

Usually, that would be a conversation that would cause trepidation. But not on a Saturday in our comfy clothes, and not when bonding over a mutual love of hard rock! Whew.

In a few days, my six-month contract runs out. Being as no one has actually said that I’m to be hired on permanently, I was a bit worried. Not anymore! And in a few weeks my job as it is now will become pretty much obsolete. I’ve been concerned with just what I might be doing when those few weeks are up. Today I heard what they have planned for me, and amongst other duties, I get to do a job that I actually want to do! Not the other stuff I that I have to do because I need a job. This is something I’ve seen a need for, a job for someone geeky and anal-retentive, a job made for someone like me!

And, just a quick note about Socks and Button: they are both doing great, both 100% healthy and at least one of them is over-the-moon happy. Hard to tell if a baby, who is just a week old, is happy! Wow, just a week? My time sense, never ever approaching accuracy, is really out of whack.

Lastly, we are going Out in a little while. iDJ has been asked to do a short gig in our favourite pub in honour of a friend who is moving to Australia, permanently. Sad to lose another one – this fellow was trying to make it here with a small farm, chickens, ducks, and his music. There’s a term that exists only in Ireland – an American Wake. It is a celebration of someone’s life when you probably won’t ever see them again because they have been forced to emigrate, usually to the States. This time it’s to Oz, but the sentiment’s the same. Nevertheless, it should be a good night. I even washed my hair!

Jun14

Brain-dump – Warning, rambling ahead…

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Argh. I have nothing going on, yet a ton of things going on, and I don’t even know where to begin. So I haven’t begun, until now… this is feeling like one of those times I need to ramble and write, just because I need to write.

That said, I caught myself cleaning the fridge this evening in what I knew damn well was an avoidance ploy. What’s up with that? Who the hell would rather wash the beer vegetable drawers instead of write? Especially when the call is so clearly upon oneself? Like that third person stuff? Yeah, me neither.

Maybe it really is that I have too much in my head and couldn’t figure out where to start. I’m just free-writing here, a big ol’ brain-dump. I guess I’ll see how big it really is. Good thing I don’t actually use paper, I’d be clogging the jacks…

I still need to post about my garden, and about a dozen kinds of beer I’ve tried recently, and an ‘invasion of the flour-mites’ update (I’ve gotten so many Google hits about it I feel I should do a proper post with advice on getting rid of them – they are gone). I have a ton of photos I’d like to share… I’m worried about my job security, and about Socks (who still is waiting, and since she has her mum with her we aren’t having our weekly phone call tonight). I owe an old friend a serious response to a difficult email, I’m worried about an ex who I’ve only just realised might be having a hard time and I don’t know why, and I just realised that it’s friggin’ Thursday and I have no hope of even getting a card to my dad in time for Father’s Day. Sorry dad, I really have been meaning to send something. I’m a terrible kid. Love me anyway? (that’s an old family joke)

We are also meant to have 36 – yes, thirty-bleedin-six, hours of rain, which started today at about 11 am. Yay. 36 hours of wet dog and no garden and no sitting outside all weekend. And I just know it will clear and be beautiful just in time for me to be stuck behind a desk on Monday. I can’t even get close to explaining how very much a sunny day that I cannot enjoy distracts me. My brain just does not appreciate being confined indoors, and my body is screaming for sunshine and fresh air.

I’m worried about my sister being lonely and having a tough time while her husband is away.

I started having graphic nightmares again, which try but fail to get my heart rate up, but still wake me and set my mind going. I can’t read myself to sleep on the iPad at those times: it will fall over and hit either me or iDJ in the face. I did, in one of those middle-of-the-night sessions, have an idea for a new blog; something I’d like to do that actually has a ‘theme’ but I can’t make the time for it unless I can think of a way it will make me some money. Which annoys me, because I’d much rather do it for the love of it, but ohmydog we are broke. Another worry…

And, suddenly, it’s 10pm and I have only an hour of me-time left before I have to sleep or be useless tomorrow. Hard as hell this time of year – even with the rain it is bright enough outside to read. It feels like 8, or even 7, but I have to finish making dinner, eat it, and go to sleep soon. Yes yes I know, we eat at crazy hours. iDJ has been on the air the last two hours and he has to wrap up some things still, and there’s no way we’d be able to make and eat a big meal in the hour of ‘free time’ we have between coming home from work and his show starting. Maybe if we didn’t cook from scratch and had something out of a bag or box it would be possible… Blecch.

I guess the last thing on my mind is my spine – I have to wait until July 4 for a consult to go over the results of my MRI. I have no idea what they are going to say. My physiotherapist says that pretty much only shots or surgery are going to be offered to me as options. I’m not keen on either, but will take the shots just to feel like a normal person again. Heh. Like that is possible…

Right, let me find a picture to cheer myself up… Oh yes, here we go.

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Okay maybe it’s too big. But I didn’t want you to miss the flailing kitty-arm! Neko and Spotty were having a big game that day, and I took a ton of photos I wanted to upload, and hubby took a video. I’ve just not gotten a round tuit yet for a real post, so I might put this shot up again later.

Right, need to go make a salad – one of these days I’ll share my dad’s dressing with you, it’s amazingly good and so easy!

Feb25

Roads, tracks and shortcuts to be taken today

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I have sunshine right now! I’ve rolled up my sweats and pushed down my socks so my very, very, hairy shins get some welcome sunwarmth. The breeze feels good as it waves those not-so-fine hairs about, too. I’d take a pic to commemorate the event (the sun, not my winter coat), but I’m sure you’ve seen the sun before. I won’t be seeing it for long, however. Wish he’d stick around a bit longer.

The leg-fur isn’t sticking around much longer today, either. I’m heating water for a bath right now, and off it goes. I’d leave it, but someone I don’t know very well might get a bit freaked out if she has to observe the flowing fetlocks I’ve been cultivating the last few months.

I have to share a hotel room with someone from work tonight.

I suppose I don’t ‘have to’ – I don’t have to go. But, for the price of petrol (€20 round trip) and a few drinks, I get dinner, a hotel room, and a night at the Galway Greyhound Stadium. I think work is even chipping in for a bet or two, which is good because I am not a gambler and wouldn’t spend a Euro of my own and consider it fun.

So, there are several firsts in store for me today. One is driving to Galway all by myself for the first time. I could have asked or offered to ride share with someone else, but I’d rather be alone in my own Mini with my loud-ass music and lead foot. I can arrive and leave when I want, too, and that’s well worth €20 to me.

Second is meeting all the people I work with. I’m on the phone constantly to some of them, but have never met ‘em. This is the main reason I’m going. I think it’s important to get to know the lads and let them get to know me, as I sometimes feel they aren’t very friendly. I’m sure that I’m awesome enough to make any bad attitudes change! Heh…only partly joking though. I’m the only Yank in the company that I know of, and sometimes…well, you know the reputation Americans have. I almost feel as if I have to break two stereotypes; The Yank and The Stupid Female. No, fellas, I won’t be there in high heels and a skirt with my boobs hanging out, and I didn’t vote for Bush, either…

Third is the dog track itself. I’ve never been to one. I know several people who have rescue greyhounds, and I’m aware of the horrors inflicted on these dogs around the world. Ireland I’m sure is no exception – although it does seem that a lot of rescue greys in England come from Ireland, so at least there is some sort of half decent attempt to treat them properly. I know the running isn’t cruel, they love it. It’s what happens to a dog who can’t race that is horrible, and the way they can be forced to live when not on-track. So, I want to see for myself. I need to prowl around behind the scenes, if I can, and see what I think. I do know of two others from work who adamantly object to us going at all – fair play to them, and I agree, but the company is going whether I come along or not, so I’m taking the opportunity to educate myself.

Adventures await…

Feb20

I have to go to sleeeep…

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…but I’m missing my blog. I thought I’d say a few things before heading upstairs.

I’ve finished re-reading what I wrote already on The Book. I still like it. I’ve also done most of my research on the stuff that needed researching up to this point. So… I guess I’m ready to start making words fit together in new ways!

My writing area is a lot different than it was for the first chunk-o-book, though. I’m in the house now, instead of hiding in the cold, uncomfortable shed, sitting on a toilet. I shit you not.

Now, I have pillows in front of the fireplace – but I also have constant interruptions. Not great.

But! I’ve been re-learning how to do several things at once, even if I don’t want to. I change the track of my thoughts so very many times in a day at The Job that I’m getting good at it. I hope.

Anyway, that’s really it. I have to retire for the night – because my brain is running out of my ear and pooling down around my collarbone.