I've had a very, very bad couple of days. I don't usually expect bad days as strong and vigorous as these, mainly because they rarely come in the middle of Summer, but mostly because it was completely unexpected.
I'm not exactly sure how to explain it without making me sound childish and stupid, to be honest. I mean, I know it was going to be difficult waking up very early on a Bank Holiday Monday morning, especially knowing I had to go to sleep early whilst everyone else was partying simply because they could, but it wasn't entirely that.. Ok, I don't like being left out on occasions like this, because for some bizarre reason, I feel like I'm not wanted, even if it's no ones fault! Like I say.. I'm not going to escape this without sounding stupidly childish, but the goings-on in my brain are completely unfathomable, even to myself.
I don't know.. I started to feel a bit rubbish earlier in the day, whilst playing in the best cricket match of the season so far, where we escaped with a narrow victory, but whilst the rest of the team were in a happier state of mind, I just didn't really feel like I was there.. I sometimes fail to enjoy the times that life bring, instead concentrating on the bad times that are ahead, and I wish, more than anything, for that to change. I should of spent Sunday enjoying the cricket match and concentrating on a good performance, (which didn't come, surprisingly), instead of dreading the days to come. The drive home from cricket was sort of enjoyable, as me and Boony discussed the shortcomings of the cricket club we play for, of which there was a long list, but as soon as I got home, I just wanted to go to sleep forever. The waves of unhappiness hit me like the heatwaves as you step off a plane into a hot climate, but despite this, I hauled myself to the pub quiz, in at attempt to forget the mood I was in.
It didn't happen. I probably looked like the damp squib in a packed bank-holiday weekend pub, as I couldn't really get past the fact that I hate the life I live at the moment.
I know I said earlier, and to a few people, that the job isn't the problem, but I think it is. All of you probably know by now, I am scared of hard work. I make no bones about it, I am stupidly lazy and sheer bone idleness is my number one character trait. No one hates it more than I do, but I cannot bear facing over 8 hours in a warehouse where I don't know what's going on, and just looking at the clock waiting to go home. No amount of money is worth that, and especially not the crappy wage I get now.. Most of my first pay-packet is going to go on car insurance and part of the mountaneous bill from a few weeks ago, and I am so tempted to just say to my parents, "Have the car as payment, and I'll sit here until September with nothing". It won't be nice, and it may be boring... Wait... Haven't I said those words before? Here we are again...
My major concern is that I am thinking all this is coming after simply a few weeks. A few weeks into my job at SmartMove, I was concerned that I wasn't making progress, but enjoying the probability that it may evolve, and I at least knew the basics of the job I was doing. A few weeks into BP, somehow, I was enjoying working with the freedom that nights brought, even if it became steadily more awful. A few weeks into Go Outdoors, and I'm already dreading it? It shouldn't be like that... The real problem is that I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing there, and I have no knowledge whatsoever of anything about outdoor pursuits. I was asked last week to pitch up the tents for the sale display.. Even though I claimed to have been camping, "a few times", in my interview, just so I could get the job, I honestly have no idea. I suppose with a bit of logic, it's do-able, but it's not a skill I have. I had no choice but to explain I couldn't do it. A guy working in the camping department, who can't put up a tent? Really? Can you honestly imagine the embarrassment? I think my Department Manager could sense it.... And it's this sort of thing I am faced with day in, day out and with my fragile mind and paranoid thoughts, it's already becoming unbearable. I am learning from the customers, when the customers should really be learning from me...
And it's this I've got to put up with for 8 and a half hours every day... Most of my day spent trying to avoid speaking to customers in fear of being upstaged and embarrassed, and most of my day looking desperately at my watch waiting for 5pm or 8pm to come around... It's no way to spend your life, and even if the little bit of money is a bonus, I honestly don't think it's worth the hassle.
Monday 30 May 2011
Saturday 28 May 2011
The Mr.Kipling Hunt
I am a ridiculous chocaholic. In theory, I should have the body of Rik Waller instead of the average physique I have been blessed with, however, given that I have amazing metabolism, (is that the right word?), I am nearly free to eat whatever the hell I like with only the financial blow to feel in the short term. Only a few days ago, did I take a trip to Tesco's with the sole intention of buying complete junk after a physically demanding (half) week at work. I came back with a chocolate sundae dessert, a box of mini chocolate brownies, 4 cut-price muffins, some cookies and a freddo. 20p that freddo cost me! 20p! That does make me feel old...
The reason I go on these crazy, expensive and health-deteriorating trips is because Mother Mitten, doing her weekly "big shop" around Sainsbury's*, refuses to buy produce any food that adds a particular amount of weight to the stomach region, which means no cake, no sugar, no biscuits and most importantly, no chocolate...
... Until today! Because I awoke at an hour that I'm definitely more used to, (sometime after midday!), Mother Mitten took the opportunity to steal the Mittenmobile and trek it to the named Supermarche to do her rounds. She claimed, once again, that she hadn't bought anything "interesting", but upon scouting around the kitchen for something to snack on during my nightly midnight search, I came across a family-size pack of mini rolls and a pack of Mr.Kipling's chocolate slices. What a crafty Mother I have...
To pay her back, I have stolen said products, and hidden them in my own room, replacing them with a simple post-it note saying, 'You've gotta do better than that!' Serves her right! To be honest, I'll be doing well if there are any left by the time I go to sleep, which just proves how much of a cake/mini roll/Mr.Kipling-aholic, I really am.
In other news, I got hit in the ribs by a hard, brand new cricket ball bowled relatively fast by Boony, leaving a nice purple bruise and I have organised a small gathering where we shall watch Barcelona trounce MUFC in the CL Final tomorrow night, before no doubt drowning our sorrows in Bedford's "new" club.. Followed by cricket on Sunday and a very, very full week at work next week...
Busy weekend coming up then, and if it's anything like last weekend, I reckon it will be a successful one!
* Mother Mitten's brief shopping stint at Sainsbury's is because she gets £12 off every £60... Something she claims to be, "the most remarkable offer I've ever seen!" ... She's easily pleased, bless her! (Thank you to .... "Anonymous" for pointing out my failings as a blogger!) ;)
The reason I go on these crazy, expensive and health-deteriorating trips is because Mother Mitten, doing her weekly "big shop" around Sainsbury's*, refuses to buy produce any food that adds a particular amount of weight to the stomach region, which means no cake, no sugar, no biscuits and most importantly, no chocolate...
... Until today! Because I awoke at an hour that I'm definitely more used to, (sometime after midday!), Mother Mitten took the opportunity to steal the Mittenmobile and trek it to the named Supermarche to do her rounds. She claimed, once again, that she hadn't bought anything "interesting", but upon scouting around the kitchen for something to snack on during my nightly midnight search, I came across a family-size pack of mini rolls and a pack of Mr.Kipling's chocolate slices. What a crafty Mother I have...
To pay her back, I have stolen said products, and hidden them in my own room, replacing them with a simple post-it note saying, 'You've gotta do better than that!' Serves her right! To be honest, I'll be doing well if there are any left by the time I go to sleep, which just proves how much of a cake/mini roll/Mr.Kipling-aholic, I really am.
In other news, I got hit in the ribs by a hard, brand new cricket ball bowled relatively fast by Boony, leaving a nice purple bruise and I have organised a small gathering where we shall watch Barcelona trounce MUFC in the CL Final tomorrow night, before no doubt drowning our sorrows in Bedford's "new" club.. Followed by cricket on Sunday and a very, very full week at work next week...
Busy weekend coming up then, and if it's anything like last weekend, I reckon it will be a successful one!
* Mother Mitten's brief shopping stint at Sainsbury's is because she gets £12 off every £60... Something she claims to be, "the most remarkable offer I've ever seen!" ... She's easily pleased, bless her! (Thank you to .... "Anonymous" for pointing out my failings as a blogger!) ;)
Thursday 26 May 2011
A Letter To Your 16 Year Old Self
Dear Tom/Mitten/TumTum/Mitmut/TC,
Although you have many different names, you are one person. One person cannot change the lives of multiple others, so instead you should begin concentrating on your own. The phrase, "looking after number one" should be your priority for the next few years, and even if this does lose you a few friends, the alternative is doing what I did, and trying to be friends with everyone, forgetting about yourself.
The exams coming up, are not the be all and end all of your life. The exams coming up should be used to get into a routine that will be needed in the next couple of years. I won't lie, GCSE's aren't massively important in the bigger scheme of things, but are just the beginning of what will be a challenging few years. Hard work, (or any work at all to be honest), will only pay dividends. I learnt the hard way, and I urge you not to do the same. Pressure will become your worst enemy, but the advice I give you is the same advice I try and give myself today. Take a deep breath, and just get on with it. Don't feel that you should work 24/7, because no one expects that of you. Instead, extend your school day by a couple of hours each day, work hard then play hard. It's better than 8 and a half solid hours of manual labour, something you will become "allergic" to in 3 or 4 years time.
If I told you what the next few years had in store for you, I would not be your best friend. Not liking myself was exactly what I had to endure, and I would hate the same to happen to you. You are going to go through the same trials and tribulations I had to, but I must tell you to use the people around you to get through it. Don't bottle it up, but instead let all the frustration loose on the two people you will call 'The Parents Mitten', and the friendships you have built to good effect. That is what they are there for after all. Be more confident in your own abilities in and out of education and be prepared to experience some things that sound ridiculously daunting. When you reach adulthood, these will come in handy.
The one thing though, above anything else, is to accept who you are and don't be afraid of people's reactions to it. Again, it may sound incredibly daunting, and nasty words may come your way, but you have enough friends to help you through before people start talking about the next person. Spiteful people are not worth having in your life, so stop trying to please them and concentrate your personalistic traits on the people who are worth it. And who knows, you may even make more special friends, (wink wink)!
Things don't turn out too badly. If I had been more sensible and wise about my decisions, taking a step back and looking at it from a future point of view, I could have realised the potential that so many talk and will talk more about. You've got the opportunity to make this a reality. It took me a fair while to work out the lesson of life, so hopefully, you'll work it out sooner rather than later!
All is not lost, by any means. But in the same quantity, a lot more can be gained.
Love, A 20-year old You
Although you have many different names, you are one person. One person cannot change the lives of multiple others, so instead you should begin concentrating on your own. The phrase, "looking after number one" should be your priority for the next few years, and even if this does lose you a few friends, the alternative is doing what I did, and trying to be friends with everyone, forgetting about yourself.
The exams coming up, are not the be all and end all of your life. The exams coming up should be used to get into a routine that will be needed in the next couple of years. I won't lie, GCSE's aren't massively important in the bigger scheme of things, but are just the beginning of what will be a challenging few years. Hard work, (or any work at all to be honest), will only pay dividends. I learnt the hard way, and I urge you not to do the same. Pressure will become your worst enemy, but the advice I give you is the same advice I try and give myself today. Take a deep breath, and just get on with it. Don't feel that you should work 24/7, because no one expects that of you. Instead, extend your school day by a couple of hours each day, work hard then play hard. It's better than 8 and a half solid hours of manual labour, something you will become "allergic" to in 3 or 4 years time.
If I told you what the next few years had in store for you, I would not be your best friend. Not liking myself was exactly what I had to endure, and I would hate the same to happen to you. You are going to go through the same trials and tribulations I had to, but I must tell you to use the people around you to get through it. Don't bottle it up, but instead let all the frustration loose on the two people you will call 'The Parents Mitten', and the friendships you have built to good effect. That is what they are there for after all. Be more confident in your own abilities in and out of education and be prepared to experience some things that sound ridiculously daunting. When you reach adulthood, these will come in handy.
The one thing though, above anything else, is to accept who you are and don't be afraid of people's reactions to it. Again, it may sound incredibly daunting, and nasty words may come your way, but you have enough friends to help you through before people start talking about the next person. Spiteful people are not worth having in your life, so stop trying to please them and concentrate your personalistic traits on the people who are worth it. And who knows, you may even make more special friends, (wink wink)!
Things don't turn out too badly. If I had been more sensible and wise about my decisions, taking a step back and looking at it from a future point of view, I could have realised the potential that so many talk and will talk more about. You've got the opportunity to make this a reality. It took me a fair while to work out the lesson of life, so hopefully, you'll work it out sooner rather than later!
All is not lost, by any means. But in the same quantity, a lot more can be gained.
Love, A 20-year old You
Wednesday 25 May 2011
Anymore Nazi Barbeques?
The sound of my alarm in the morning is one of the worst sounds of my life. An alarm at 7.30 in the morning, is probably most people's idea of hell, but the loud wailing of my Acctim alarm clock, with a scratch across the screen, is enough to not only wake you up, but to leave you spending the day ironing out your own eardrum. As an alarm clock though, it does serve it's purpose, even after multiple GBH's and a hammer to the head.
Waking up at 7.30 this morning was difficult. Very difficult. You all know by now that I like my beauty sleep a little too much, (and after the comments I've received tonight, I am more than entitled to use that phrase!), and I left the house, under 12 hours after I had got in, for another 8 and a half hours at what I have now nicknamed, 'The Shed'. The management were particularly stringent today, seeing as tomorrow is the visit of the Regional Manager. However, because there were so many jobs, the day seemed to go by relatively quicker than usual, although not exactly Usain Bolt speed... Highlights include the hunt for the '18 Stickers' and a colleague asking if we had anymore "Nazi Barbeques", after we found a whole crate of them written in German. I know.. That really is as interesting as it gets..
However, after walking out at 5pm, I now find myself with the luxury of at least 4 days off until my next possible hours, (which may not even come at all, remember), so will hope to make the most of that with the minimal money I have. I spent £6 at Tesco tonight on pure junk, but felt I deserved it after a particularly laborious week and a half. And since then, I have spent the evening talking to a possible new friend who is going to Brighton University, and seemed to be a bit too complimentary for comfort... However, as Beddoe put it, "I have seemed to be very lucky recently.."
Once again... No complaints from me...
Waking up at 7.30 this morning was difficult. Very difficult. You all know by now that I like my beauty sleep a little too much, (and after the comments I've received tonight, I am more than entitled to use that phrase!), and I left the house, under 12 hours after I had got in, for another 8 and a half hours at what I have now nicknamed, 'The Shed'. The management were particularly stringent today, seeing as tomorrow is the visit of the Regional Manager. However, because there were so many jobs, the day seemed to go by relatively quicker than usual, although not exactly Usain Bolt speed... Highlights include the hunt for the '18 Stickers' and a colleague asking if we had anymore "Nazi Barbeques", after we found a whole crate of them written in German. I know.. That really is as interesting as it gets..
However, after walking out at 5pm, I now find myself with the luxury of at least 4 days off until my next possible hours, (which may not even come at all, remember), so will hope to make the most of that with the minimal money I have. I spent £6 at Tesco tonight on pure junk, but felt I deserved it after a particularly laborious week and a half. And since then, I have spent the evening talking to a possible new friend who is going to Brighton University, and seemed to be a bit too complimentary for comfort... However, as Beddoe put it, "I have seemed to be very lucky recently.."
Once again... No complaints from me...
Monday 23 May 2011
Blonde Moments
Today has been full of stupid mistakes and time-wasting antics in a bid to make the day go faster. What happened? God, after refusing Judgment Day, decided to punish me personally by making time go 10 times slower than it should have done. The result being that an 8 and a half hour shift turned into what felt like 12 hours... Bad times.
I sort of regret writing yesterday's post in a bid to make myself understand what the hell I'm thinking about, but it failed. I shall leave it up there for your delectation, and feel free to laugh in my general direction. As for work, I have to keep remindng myself that I shall be free come 5pm on Wednesday, after a couple of no doubt, slower than a snail shifts...
I fancy a Burger King...
I sort of regret writing yesterday's post in a bid to make myself understand what the hell I'm thinking about, but it failed. I shall leave it up there for your delectation, and feel free to laugh in my general direction. As for work, I have to keep remindng myself that I shall be free come 5pm on Wednesday, after a couple of no doubt, slower than a snail shifts...
I fancy a Burger King...
Second Time Very Lucky
I don't know what happened to me last night. Well... Yes, I do, but I'm not sure what triggered the final decision to go out to town at about 11.30pm. Yes, I've done it before, and it turned out to be mediocre at best, so I have no reason why I thought that this time would be better. Well... Yes, I do actually.. Suppose I might aswell get to that later, given you're all now sitting there wondering what the hell I'm talking about.. No change there then?
So, for the 2nd time in recent history, I was standing outside my local pub in the fresh winds of a Summer night, listening to the dulcit tones of a half-baked karaoke singer in the background, waiting for a taxi into the regular stomping ground that is Bedford High Street. The journey there was spent attempting to discuss boxing with the cab driver, and seeing that boxing is one of only a handful of sports I know very little about, it turned out to be a one-sided conversation. We picked up Mr.Mason, who is up for a party at any time of any day, and ascended to the mayhem of a Saturday night. Upon stepping out the taxi, I had an instant feeling that we might regret this very late decision, as we were nearly trampled on by a very rowdy group of 40-somethings who already looked like they had downed a bottle of vodka or 5.. Still, we got some money out, and went to The Mitten Tree, (Again!), and met up with Nikki and her friend, Kayleigh.
Now. I had met Nikki a couple of months back at her house party which turned out to be rather eventful to say the least, and then only a few times since then, so we aren't exactly best friends... Seeing as I hadn't even met her friend before, me and Mason, completely sober for an hour or so, seemed a bit alienated by the fact that the only people we knew were each other... Still, a few JD and cokes later plus some very weird Pina Colada shot that tasted, (and looked), like pure ice, made us a bit more sociable and we started to enjoy ourselves a bit more, but why the Macarena came up, I don't and will never know. It was quite a sight seeing many, many people whack out the famous Macarena dance moves in the middle of a bar that is used to playing mainstream dance and club music... Still, it only sums up what turned out to be a bit of a crazy night!
We moved on to Elements, which I'm glad to say was a bit busier than the night before, and bought £2 drinks while the girls splashed out on some fancy bottles of champagne, despite complaining most of the time that they were skint and couldn't come out very often... I got the feeling the night was heading into a similar vain to the night before, where not a lot happened and we were dancing to the most repetitive songs ever created, but just as I started to wonder that things were going to end up on a level playing field, things started to happen... Even meeting a few football players that I had refereed throughout the season wasn't a patch on what happened later...
I've decided for the sanity of myself and said person, I am going to impose my very own super-injuction and not disclose everything, although some of you do know already. Despite not being the relationship sort of person, I do seem to end up being involved with people who are already involved in a relationship... Yes, I do know and yes, I have just given most of it away. I do usually see myself as the person who has a good set of morals and intentions, even if sometimes I do end up doing the wrong thing, but despite knowing that I was getting myself into trouble, I still went ahead with it. I blame the alcohol. The title of this blog then, is literally, "second time lucky" after the fiasco of the house party..
To be fair, I am talking like this is the start of something new, but it really isn't. It will become just "an event to happen on a night out once", and although one part of me feeling a bit bad about this, the other parts are relieved that this will probably be the case. We have already established that relationships are not my thing, and although being 99% sure that nothing would happen anyway, (probably over the fact she is already accounted for), even if I wanted it to, I am certain that it will be an isolated incident. I am fully aware I am the culprit here in a case where people will now think less of me, but it isn't the first time, and honestly? Might not be the last!
I've just realised I'm overreacting ridiculously, but for the sake of entertainment, I shall leave what I have just spent the last 45 minutes writing. I shall gracefully receive the banter that is most probably coming my way, knowing that I made a few people rather jealous last night! Well, on the rating of "ridiculousness", it probably matched Friday night, but in terms of an "end result", better.
And that, after an annihalation of some Cambridgeshire team earlier, is the end of my birthday weekend. For the first time in a long time, I am feeling the crappy Sunday night feeling that comes with the fact that I have to work for 8 and a half hours tomorrow... But at least I can have a lie-in. SCORE!
(Not the first time I've said that this weekend.)
So, for the 2nd time in recent history, I was standing outside my local pub in the fresh winds of a Summer night, listening to the dulcit tones of a half-baked karaoke singer in the background, waiting for a taxi into the regular stomping ground that is Bedford High Street. The journey there was spent attempting to discuss boxing with the cab driver, and seeing that boxing is one of only a handful of sports I know very little about, it turned out to be a one-sided conversation. We picked up Mr.Mason, who is up for a party at any time of any day, and ascended to the mayhem of a Saturday night. Upon stepping out the taxi, I had an instant feeling that we might regret this very late decision, as we were nearly trampled on by a very rowdy group of 40-somethings who already looked like they had downed a bottle of vodka or 5.. Still, we got some money out, and went to The Mitten Tree, (Again!), and met up with Nikki and her friend, Kayleigh.
Now. I had met Nikki a couple of months back at her house party which turned out to be rather eventful to say the least, and then only a few times since then, so we aren't exactly best friends... Seeing as I hadn't even met her friend before, me and Mason, completely sober for an hour or so, seemed a bit alienated by the fact that the only people we knew were each other... Still, a few JD and cokes later plus some very weird Pina Colada shot that tasted, (and looked), like pure ice, made us a bit more sociable and we started to enjoy ourselves a bit more, but why the Macarena came up, I don't and will never know. It was quite a sight seeing many, many people whack out the famous Macarena dance moves in the middle of a bar that is used to playing mainstream dance and club music... Still, it only sums up what turned out to be a bit of a crazy night!
We moved on to Elements, which I'm glad to say was a bit busier than the night before, and bought £2 drinks while the girls splashed out on some fancy bottles of champagne, despite complaining most of the time that they were skint and couldn't come out very often... I got the feeling the night was heading into a similar vain to the night before, where not a lot happened and we were dancing to the most repetitive songs ever created, but just as I started to wonder that things were going to end up on a level playing field, things started to happen... Even meeting a few football players that I had refereed throughout the season wasn't a patch on what happened later...
I've decided for the sanity of myself and said person, I am going to impose my very own super-injuction and not disclose everything, although some of you do know already. Despite not being the relationship sort of person, I do seem to end up being involved with people who are already involved in a relationship... Yes, I do know and yes, I have just given most of it away. I do usually see myself as the person who has a good set of morals and intentions, even if sometimes I do end up doing the wrong thing, but despite knowing that I was getting myself into trouble, I still went ahead with it. I blame the alcohol. The title of this blog then, is literally, "second time lucky" after the fiasco of the house party..
To be fair, I am talking like this is the start of something new, but it really isn't. It will become just "an event to happen on a night out once", and although one part of me feeling a bit bad about this, the other parts are relieved that this will probably be the case. We have already established that relationships are not my thing, and although being 99% sure that nothing would happen anyway, (probably over the fact she is already accounted for), even if I wanted it to, I am certain that it will be an isolated incident. I am fully aware I am the culprit here in a case where people will now think less of me, but it isn't the first time, and honestly? Might not be the last!
I've just realised I'm overreacting ridiculously, but for the sake of entertainment, I shall leave what I have just spent the last 45 minutes writing. I shall gracefully receive the banter that is most probably coming my way, knowing that I made a few people rather jealous last night! Well, on the rating of "ridiculousness", it probably matched Friday night, but in terms of an "end result", better.
And that, after an annihalation of some Cambridgeshire team earlier, is the end of my birthday weekend. For the first time in a long time, I am feeling the crappy Sunday night feeling that comes with the fact that I have to work for 8 and a half hours tomorrow... But at least I can have a lie-in. SCORE!
(Not the first time I've said that this weekend.)
Sunday 22 May 2011
Judgement Day (14th Attempt)
1844: William Miller predicts Christ would return between March 1843 and March 1844. When he doesn't, Miller revises prediction to October 1844. Sure enough, Christ doesn't show up.
Jehovah's Witnesses set Dates for 1914, 1918, 1925, 1942. Christ doesn't show up on any of these.
1981: Chuck Smith predicts Jesus' return. Nothing happens.
1988: Edgar C Whisenant's prediction for 1988 yields no results.
1989, 1992, 1995: Whisenant's other predictions ALL fail.
1992: Korean Group predict return. Nothing happens.
1993-2000: Seven year return of Jesus predicted. Jesus doesn't come back.
1994: Harold Camping predicts return. Of course, nothing happens.
BBC News Headline: Believers perplexed after prediction fails.
How?!
Jehovah's Witnesses set Dates for 1914, 1918, 1925, 1942. Christ doesn't show up on any of these.
1981: Chuck Smith predicts Jesus' return. Nothing happens.
1988: Edgar C Whisenant's prediction for 1988 yields no results.
1989, 1992, 1995: Whisenant's other predictions ALL fail.
1992: Korean Group predict return. Nothing happens.
1993-2000: Seven year return of Jesus predicted. Jesus doesn't come back.
1994: Harold Camping predicts return. Of course, nothing happens.
BBC News Headline: Believers perplexed after prediction fails.
How?!
Saturday 21 May 2011
Birthday Boy
On a scale of 1 to 10, I would rate my birthday at a very average 6. Of course, it only comes around once a year, so it is always a good day, but there was something missing from this birthday that ultimately made the whole experience a rather quiet one.
Well, I say quiet, the day time went by with little incident. I woke up after a "lie in" at 10am, (I know, right? A lie in until 10am... That isn't a typo!), and proceeded to open a few cards from family and a fantastic looking card from Ridgway. I'm not one for bothering about friends sending cards, as I don't send them one. I even have an agreement with Kettle to just, "not bother"! Myself and Mother Mitten then ran to catch the bus to town to catch a sneaky bit of lunch before she had to endure a short stint at work. The bacon panini I had resembled a rubber dinghy, but none the less, enjoyable. We then went to buy my birthday presents which involved new pads and a new pair of spikes that got their first run out today, on a pitch that was closer to a farmyard than a cricket pitch, (we won!). None the less, I travelled home via bus, (given that the Mitmobile was still in car hospital), and witnessed a full blown domestic by Bay 4. Fantastic viewing.
The hours of 1pm until 5pm went by in slow-motion as I sat in my room being a lazy slob. I only got up to walk round the shops to buy a large bar of Caramel, and got badgered by some 16 year old to buy him a pack of 10 Mayfair. Safe to say I didn't, and at 5pm, Kettle joined me in a walk to collect the newly-repaired Mitmobile. Blood, sweat and tears were used on this epic journey, but the drive home was as smooth as the Jack Daniels I had in the evening.
At 6pm, myself and the Parents Mitten went out for a posh dinner at the Kings Arms in Cardington where I feasted on whitebait and steak washed down with a huge portion of tiramisu, but you don't want to hear about that. You came on here to find out what happened when alcohol takes over, yes?
Well. The original plan, the karaoke, went tits up as half the crowd bailed, leaving a simple 5 to wonder where to go. Luckily, (sort of), there was a house party happening at some place so we made our way there with the intention of sticking around for a couple of hours before going to town. Upon getting there, we found a house full of underages, smashed out of their brains, and we were only there for half an hour before we were getting kicked out. People had gone too far apparently, and me, being slightly tipsy, looked in the neighbours window, and was greeted by a crack addict who hit me in the face with a shoe. Lovely. I wasn't really so bothered, and despite wanting to headbutt this guy to Kenya, I resisted and walked away and we walked to town, with a bottle of vodka and a few cans of Foster's in toe. Good call!
Things got better as we reached familiar territory. However, first we went to find Burkitt, and located him in The Ship, but he seemed to want to spend time with his new friends, so forgot about him. I was a bit annoyed that only 4 people could be bothered to make an effort. I can understand if people have exams to revise for, but if you're in Bedford, you should at least try...
After this, we went to Mitten Tree, (haha), where I was greeted by a lot of my now, ex, football team-mates who bought me a few drinks, including 'The Nasty One'! We then moved on to Elements, which was dead, so went to Saints for a bit, before I genuinely just got a bit bored. I'm not really sure why, but a few texts I had received seem to annoy me for some reason or another, and I just wanted to go home, so I did. I use the excuse, "I'm too old for this!" now...
So yeah, a good day followed by a night full of incident, as ever, but more negative than positive. I can't complain about the day as a whole though, and now I look forward to the next one, which will be the big 2-1, on a Saturday night, in Brighton. Big? I should hope so to!
Well, I say quiet, the day time went by with little incident. I woke up after a "lie in" at 10am, (I know, right? A lie in until 10am... That isn't a typo!), and proceeded to open a few cards from family and a fantastic looking card from Ridgway. I'm not one for bothering about friends sending cards, as I don't send them one. I even have an agreement with Kettle to just, "not bother"! Myself and Mother Mitten then ran to catch the bus to town to catch a sneaky bit of lunch before she had to endure a short stint at work. The bacon panini I had resembled a rubber dinghy, but none the less, enjoyable. We then went to buy my birthday presents which involved new pads and a new pair of spikes that got their first run out today, on a pitch that was closer to a farmyard than a cricket pitch, (we won!). None the less, I travelled home via bus, (given that the Mitmobile was still in car hospital), and witnessed a full blown domestic by Bay 4. Fantastic viewing.
The hours of 1pm until 5pm went by in slow-motion as I sat in my room being a lazy slob. I only got up to walk round the shops to buy a large bar of Caramel, and got badgered by some 16 year old to buy him a pack of 10 Mayfair. Safe to say I didn't, and at 5pm, Kettle joined me in a walk to collect the newly-repaired Mitmobile. Blood, sweat and tears were used on this epic journey, but the drive home was as smooth as the Jack Daniels I had in the evening.
At 6pm, myself and the Parents Mitten went out for a posh dinner at the Kings Arms in Cardington where I feasted on whitebait and steak washed down with a huge portion of tiramisu, but you don't want to hear about that. You came on here to find out what happened when alcohol takes over, yes?
Well. The original plan, the karaoke, went tits up as half the crowd bailed, leaving a simple 5 to wonder where to go. Luckily, (sort of), there was a house party happening at some place so we made our way there with the intention of sticking around for a couple of hours before going to town. Upon getting there, we found a house full of underages, smashed out of their brains, and we were only there for half an hour before we were getting kicked out. People had gone too far apparently, and me, being slightly tipsy, looked in the neighbours window, and was greeted by a crack addict who hit me in the face with a shoe. Lovely. I wasn't really so bothered, and despite wanting to headbutt this guy to Kenya, I resisted and walked away and we walked to town, with a bottle of vodka and a few cans of Foster's in toe. Good call!
Things got better as we reached familiar territory. However, first we went to find Burkitt, and located him in The Ship, but he seemed to want to spend time with his new friends, so forgot about him. I was a bit annoyed that only 4 people could be bothered to make an effort. I can understand if people have exams to revise for, but if you're in Bedford, you should at least try...
After this, we went to Mitten Tree, (haha), where I was greeted by a lot of my now, ex, football team-mates who bought me a few drinks, including 'The Nasty One'! We then moved on to Elements, which was dead, so went to Saints for a bit, before I genuinely just got a bit bored. I'm not really sure why, but a few texts I had received seem to annoy me for some reason or another, and I just wanted to go home, so I did. I use the excuse, "I'm too old for this!" now...
So yeah, a good day followed by a night full of incident, as ever, but more negative than positive. I can't complain about the day as a whole though, and now I look forward to the next one, which will be the big 2-1, on a Saturday night, in Brighton. Big? I should hope so to!
Wednesday 18 May 2011
The Early Bird Catches the Tents
Three days in, and I am getting slightly more accustomed to my role as a 'Sales Person'. The team there, despite being incredibly knowledgeable in one or more aspect of the outdoor pursuits trait, (in which I am not), are the most friendly group of people you could imagine. I have quickly learnt to use them to my advantage and to trust them to help me round every corner, that most definitely come round many times a day.
After the craziness and apparent disorganisation of the first couple of days, I turned up in a rather apprehensive mood. After the antics of last night, in which the Mittenmobile's clutch burnt out and had to be towed to the nearest garage, I had to join the dark side and cycle to work, (which I suppose is more of an enthusiastic arrival to an Outdoor Pursuits store), but ended up arriving thirty minutes early. This was no bad thing, as I was greeted by Ian, the store manager, who seemed to be pleased I had arrived, "raring to go". If I was honest, I'd of said, "I'm anything but", but I think it goes without saying, I didn't. This enthusiasm also allowed me to grab a much needed free coffee. The morning briefing was quick and not so simple, as many enthusiast's terms went in one ear and out the other, and even after the embarrassment of not being able to pack a simple tent away, (I wasn't the only one however), I decided that a chat was needed.
I went to see Ian, and expressed my concerns that my knowledge was nowhere near up to scratch and I may be letting the store down given that I was having to call someone everytime a difficult question was presented by a confused customer, (and given I am not even an amateur, this is almost every question). Ian was great. He said he had noticed that I was going up to most customers and being polite and friendly, (which is true), and said that it's fantastic I am doing that despite being nervous about the question that will inevitably come. He was very complimentary and said, and I quote, "I believe you can add a lot to this team". My old manner would contemplate that he was just saying it to make me feel better, but despite only being there 3 days, I know for a fact that Ian just wouldn't say that unless he meant it. He is 100% honest. And I 100% believed him.
After a quick chat with Senior man Oliver, my tasks for every day were sort of made clear, and I got on with what needed doing. The days are quite long, and I won't say, "the day flew by", because it didn't. I will need the willpower that has been absent for (nearly) 20 years to succeed at this job, but I have worked out that I need to find it soon, otherwise university is going to be nion impossible. I do believe I have started on becoming more of an adult however. The early mornings are a pain, and I do not enjoy them, but once I am there, doing what needs to be done, I can survive. Just.
Tomorrow is my last working day before the fun of the oncoming weekend starts. I am fully aware that I don't get a birthday at the end of every week though, so I imagine next week, (if the hours come), will be more difficult. But that, as they say, is life. And until September, I have very little choice but to shut up and get on with it.
P.S. Ian described me as a, "friendly guy who just gets on with it"... Who'd have thought it, hey?
After the craziness and apparent disorganisation of the first couple of days, I turned up in a rather apprehensive mood. After the antics of last night, in which the Mittenmobile's clutch burnt out and had to be towed to the nearest garage, I had to join the dark side and cycle to work, (which I suppose is more of an enthusiastic arrival to an Outdoor Pursuits store), but ended up arriving thirty minutes early. This was no bad thing, as I was greeted by Ian, the store manager, who seemed to be pleased I had arrived, "raring to go". If I was honest, I'd of said, "I'm anything but", but I think it goes without saying, I didn't. This enthusiasm also allowed me to grab a much needed free coffee. The morning briefing was quick and not so simple, as many enthusiast's terms went in one ear and out the other, and even after the embarrassment of not being able to pack a simple tent away, (I wasn't the only one however), I decided that a chat was needed.
I went to see Ian, and expressed my concerns that my knowledge was nowhere near up to scratch and I may be letting the store down given that I was having to call someone everytime a difficult question was presented by a confused customer, (and given I am not even an amateur, this is almost every question). Ian was great. He said he had noticed that I was going up to most customers and being polite and friendly, (which is true), and said that it's fantastic I am doing that despite being nervous about the question that will inevitably come. He was very complimentary and said, and I quote, "I believe you can add a lot to this team". My old manner would contemplate that he was just saying it to make me feel better, but despite only being there 3 days, I know for a fact that Ian just wouldn't say that unless he meant it. He is 100% honest. And I 100% believed him.
After a quick chat with Senior man Oliver, my tasks for every day were sort of made clear, and I got on with what needed doing. The days are quite long, and I won't say, "the day flew by", because it didn't. I will need the willpower that has been absent for (nearly) 20 years to succeed at this job, but I have worked out that I need to find it soon, otherwise university is going to be nion impossible. I do believe I have started on becoming more of an adult however. The early mornings are a pain, and I do not enjoy them, but once I am there, doing what needs to be done, I can survive. Just.
Tomorrow is my last working day before the fun of the oncoming weekend starts. I am fully aware that I don't get a birthday at the end of every week though, so I imagine next week, (if the hours come), will be more difficult. But that, as they say, is life. And until September, I have very little choice but to shut up and get on with it.
P.S. Ian described me as a, "friendly guy who just gets on with it"... Who'd have thought it, hey?
Monday 16 May 2011
First Day Nerves
It's natural to be slightly nervous on the first day of your new job. My first day at SmartMove was a petrifying experience. I got the bus especially early, after exceptional paranoia meant that I got a strange feeling my bus would break down, and I ended up arriving a whole hour early, and sat in the cold waiting for opening time. The whole day was spent blustering around the office, learning bits and bobs and just getting by whilst the days business unravelled around me. I distinctly remember walking out of the office at lunchtime and wondering what the hell I was playing at. The expression, "thrown in at the deep end", didn't do that day justice. My first day, (or night of course), at BP was a little better. After experiencing a "high-end" job, I did get the feeling I was too good for the job, and most of it, apart from the till, was fairly self-explanatory. Long, but self-explanatory.
Today? It's a similar environment to BP, where the customer service and retail comes in, but to do this job you do need a modicum of ground knowledge to get started on. After all the formalities and paperwork had been completed, I was thrown on a till and given a rushed 10-minute demonstration on how it worked and then asked to serve customers. My thoughts that it probably wouldn't be so busy were chucked straight out the window, as a queue developed given I was making countless mistakes. I think I might have processed a payment without the dude actually paying, but frankly I couldn't care less. If these people weren't prepared to break me in gently, as it were, then you have to expect a few things will go wrong.
After a couple of hours, gaining very little progress, although I was fairly comfortable dealing with normal transactions, I was thrown into "my department", the camping section. Again, my original thoughts that it was mainly tents, shoes and sleeping bags were chewed up and spat out as the first question that came my way from a middle-aged man built like a bear was, "What kind of Propane Regulator do I need for this 6 kilogram red?"... Come again? Can you say that again, but in English? I hadn't even been given a radio, (that everyone seemed to be sporting on their jeans pocket), so I had to find a guy who specialised in camping to come and give the answer. The guy who asked me the question must have thought I was a right moron... Like I say, you need a base knowledge to deal with customers in here. Another question later on, was "Where can I find a platypus bottle?"... I mean, really? Are people asking me ridiculous questions on purpose?
Throughout the day, I did get the impression that I was simply getting in the way. Just a spare part, wandering around what to do next! A few people were nice and friendly, trying to offer help and guidance when they could find the time to do so, but some just kept themselves to themselves, just content with doing their own job and not trying to help someone who was clearly in need of help! Towards the end of the day, I just used the excuse, "It's my first day", where some people were understanding and some people have clearly forgotten what that feels like. I did just want to go home.
My mood is not made better by the fact I have 3 early starts this week, (8.30 till 5), before I get the weekend off to celebrate my birthday, which will just make certain the fact that I am not a kid anymore. To be fair, I am excited for the weekend coming up, as many a drunken sing-song and usual town antics will be followed by 2 cricket matches, (depending on level of hangover), before I go back to the humdrum of embarrassing myself in my lack of knowledge about camping.
To make things even worse, (if that were possible), it was announced by Store Manager Ian, that there would be a visit tomorrow from, "potential investors", who are about to table a £30m offer for the company.. Given that this store is, and I quote, "One of the best stores in the country for employee knowledge and customer service", they are coming to have a look at why this store is described as that..
I imagine that tonight will be spent sleeping away a nightmare that involves me screwing up that investment by not knowing about ... Caravans. Please, bring on Friday!
Today? It's a similar environment to BP, where the customer service and retail comes in, but to do this job you do need a modicum of ground knowledge to get started on. After all the formalities and paperwork had been completed, I was thrown on a till and given a rushed 10-minute demonstration on how it worked and then asked to serve customers. My thoughts that it probably wouldn't be so busy were chucked straight out the window, as a queue developed given I was making countless mistakes. I think I might have processed a payment without the dude actually paying, but frankly I couldn't care less. If these people weren't prepared to break me in gently, as it were, then you have to expect a few things will go wrong.
After a couple of hours, gaining very little progress, although I was fairly comfortable dealing with normal transactions, I was thrown into "my department", the camping section. Again, my original thoughts that it was mainly tents, shoes and sleeping bags were chewed up and spat out as the first question that came my way from a middle-aged man built like a bear was, "What kind of Propane Regulator do I need for this 6 kilogram red?"... Come again? Can you say that again, but in English? I hadn't even been given a radio, (that everyone seemed to be sporting on their jeans pocket), so I had to find a guy who specialised in camping to come and give the answer. The guy who asked me the question must have thought I was a right moron... Like I say, you need a base knowledge to deal with customers in here. Another question later on, was "Where can I find a platypus bottle?"... I mean, really? Are people asking me ridiculous questions on purpose?
Throughout the day, I did get the impression that I was simply getting in the way. Just a spare part, wandering around what to do next! A few people were nice and friendly, trying to offer help and guidance when they could find the time to do so, but some just kept themselves to themselves, just content with doing their own job and not trying to help someone who was clearly in need of help! Towards the end of the day, I just used the excuse, "It's my first day", where some people were understanding and some people have clearly forgotten what that feels like. I did just want to go home.
My mood is not made better by the fact I have 3 early starts this week, (8.30 till 5), before I get the weekend off to celebrate my birthday, which will just make certain the fact that I am not a kid anymore. To be fair, I am excited for the weekend coming up, as many a drunken sing-song and usual town antics will be followed by 2 cricket matches, (depending on level of hangover), before I go back to the humdrum of embarrassing myself in my lack of knowledge about camping.
To make things even worse, (if that were possible), it was announced by Store Manager Ian, that there would be a visit tomorrow from, "potential investors", who are about to table a £30m offer for the company.. Given that this store is, and I quote, "One of the best stores in the country for employee knowledge and customer service", they are coming to have a look at why this store is described as that..
I imagine that tonight will be spent sleeping away a nightmare that involves me screwing up that investment by not knowing about ... Caravans. Please, bring on Friday!
Butterflies in the Ever-Increasing Stomach
I can't say I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I can't imagine this job being very inspiring, but I can certainly imagine me drifting back into a state of disrepair after many hours spent in the emptiest place of all. I can imagine the manager getting on my back after a few hours, after he realises he has in fact employed someone with next to no knowledge on outdoor pursuits and he is paying someone who has nothing to give to his store whatsoever.
I have thought of many scenarios that may happen on my first day. For example, a keen camper coming up to me and asking me a series of questions on tent durability, fire rings or a Gore-Tex, (Yeah, you know full well I've googled 'Camping Terms')... and me standing there with a visible question mark hanging over my head as I realise I have nothing to give to this guy in terms of advice. Even if it doesn't happen in my first day, it will happen eventually, and when it does happen, I am going to shrink into an embarrassing, quivelling wreck.
And seeing as I can pick and choose my hours, after a few days of this god-awful ridiculousness, I can imagine me rejecting as many hours as I can get away with before Mother Mitten throws a saucepan at me and tells me to, "get my act together", or something similar. (Please note, saucepans may be added for theatrical effect). Maybe I should have kept the other 2 interviews?
The only positive I can take from this situation is that I am not working through the night and will be home by 8.30, leaving me to do what I want with my evening. To be completely honest, I have not got a clue what my job title is, how much I'm getting paid for it, and what I have to do. To be fair, I don't even think they know as of yet... "We'll probably stick you in 'Camping' or the warehouse". Well, hopefully, they stick me in the warehouse, out of the way of prying Monday afternoon custom.
This evening however, my last evening of complete freedom, was spent at the pub enjoying the usual challenge of the pub quiz. Surrounded by much less people than usual, we mustered up 30 points out of 60, (not a bad effort for a team of 3!), and screwed up the extra music round, despite winning a tube of pringles on the bingo. I resisted the temptation to visit either McDonalds or Tesco's on the way home, seeing as the multiple fast food meals I have had in recent times, plus the rubbish I usually buy from Tesco's has started to gather in the gut region.
After tomorrow though, I may just treat myself to a Quarter Pounder meal, because I might just be needing one. *Sigh*
I have thought of many scenarios that may happen on my first day. For example, a keen camper coming up to me and asking me a series of questions on tent durability, fire rings or a Gore-Tex, (Yeah, you know full well I've googled 'Camping Terms')... and me standing there with a visible question mark hanging over my head as I realise I have nothing to give to this guy in terms of advice. Even if it doesn't happen in my first day, it will happen eventually, and when it does happen, I am going to shrink into an embarrassing, quivelling wreck.
And seeing as I can pick and choose my hours, after a few days of this god-awful ridiculousness, I can imagine me rejecting as many hours as I can get away with before Mother Mitten throws a saucepan at me and tells me to, "get my act together", or something similar. (Please note, saucepans may be added for theatrical effect). Maybe I should have kept the other 2 interviews?
The only positive I can take from this situation is that I am not working through the night and will be home by 8.30, leaving me to do what I want with my evening. To be completely honest, I have not got a clue what my job title is, how much I'm getting paid for it, and what I have to do. To be fair, I don't even think they know as of yet... "We'll probably stick you in 'Camping' or the warehouse". Well, hopefully, they stick me in the warehouse, out of the way of prying Monday afternoon custom.
This evening however, my last evening of complete freedom, was spent at the pub enjoying the usual challenge of the pub quiz. Surrounded by much less people than usual, we mustered up 30 points out of 60, (not a bad effort for a team of 3!), and screwed up the extra music round, despite winning a tube of pringles on the bingo. I resisted the temptation to visit either McDonalds or Tesco's on the way home, seeing as the multiple fast food meals I have had in recent times, plus the rubbish I usually buy from Tesco's has started to gather in the gut region.
After tomorrow though, I may just treat myself to a Quarter Pounder meal, because I might just be needing one. *Sigh*
Sunday 15 May 2011
Where The Hell is Azerbaijan?
Every year, a few of us have a "sweepstake" on the marvel that is the Eurovision Song Contest. Very rarely is there a prize involved, but we play just for the fun of it! I think Kettle won once, but otherwise it is a random guess as to who is going to win, (unless of course you are stupid enough to pick the UK). It is almost like The Grand National, in the sense that any 1 of the 25 countries could possibly win it. Well... 24 plus the UK, of course.
Tonight was no different. Even though Kettle was residing in his abode in Ring Road City, we picked our 3 countries and sat back to watch the most camp music festival in living history. Every year, the show is filled with cheering crowds, dressed in their national colours, singers dressed in the most ridiculous of outfits and sporting the strangest hairstyles imaginable, (*cough* Jedward), and the stage is filled with flashing, neon lights, that Graham Norton, bless him, has to acknowledge before every single song.. I was quietly pleased with the quality of this years competition. Apart from the Moldova entry, that somehow managed to finish quite high up despite most of the people on the stage riding about on unicycles, most of the songs were quite good!
I'm pretty sure no one expected Azerbaijan to win though. I mean, who's heard of Azerbaijan? Anyone fancy a trip next year? Heard the city centre of the capital, Baku, is a right treat...
Anyway, today has been spent rushing around trying to prepare everyone for a good afternoon of cricket and then seeing off the opposition quick time, and getting home in time for Dr.Who! I managed to gain a net profit of 20 quid by buying the teas for a minimal price, and then charging everyone stupid prices! Could be the start of a new business! I bowled well, batted not so well, but it didn't matter and Bedford'd first win of the season is, finally, up on the board. Cushty.
Tomorrow is spent brushing up on my outdoor pursuits knowledge in time for Monday's first shift at GoOutdoors. Yeah, I've decided to take the easy option and stick with the less adventurous job, (no pun intended), and drop the interviews for the other 2. I do just want September to be here now. Desperately.
Tonight was no different. Even though Kettle was residing in his abode in Ring Road City, we picked our 3 countries and sat back to watch the most camp music festival in living history. Every year, the show is filled with cheering crowds, dressed in their national colours, singers dressed in the most ridiculous of outfits and sporting the strangest hairstyles imaginable, (*cough* Jedward), and the stage is filled with flashing, neon lights, that Graham Norton, bless him, has to acknowledge before every single song.. I was quietly pleased with the quality of this years competition. Apart from the Moldova entry, that somehow managed to finish quite high up despite most of the people on the stage riding about on unicycles, most of the songs were quite good!
I'm pretty sure no one expected Azerbaijan to win though. I mean, who's heard of Azerbaijan? Anyone fancy a trip next year? Heard the city centre of the capital, Baku, is a right treat...
Anyway, today has been spent rushing around trying to prepare everyone for a good afternoon of cricket and then seeing off the opposition quick time, and getting home in time for Dr.Who! I managed to gain a net profit of 20 quid by buying the teas for a minimal price, and then charging everyone stupid prices! Could be the start of a new business! I bowled well, batted not so well, but it didn't matter and Bedford'd first win of the season is, finally, up on the board. Cushty.
Tomorrow is spent brushing up on my outdoor pursuits knowledge in time for Monday's first shift at GoOutdoors. Yeah, I've decided to take the easy option and stick with the less adventurous job, (no pun intended), and drop the interviews for the other 2. I do just want September to be here now. Desperately.
Thursday 12 May 2011
Can I Do It?
Today, like yesterday, was fairly eventful. It is rare that I get 2 interesting weekdays in a row at this stage of my life but that is exactly what I got. After waking up fairly late, (Yep, back to usual then), I prepared for my 2nd interview in 2 days, and this one was the one to go for.
First though, I needed a photocopier. I needed this particular instrument to photocopy my driving licence, which is a grumpy looking me on a pink card, and my pay slip to prove I am who I say I am. After not using my brain and getting prepared yesterday, I went to the local library to find that it opens at 2pm on Wednesdays for an unknown reason, and for some reason, decided that my old school, that I left nearly 2 years ago, would suddenly let me use their photocopier. Somehow it worked, as the rather large food technology lady seemed to be in a bright mood, which as far as I can remember was quite a rarity, and before I could say 'Alan Sugar' I was on the road to the old home of Aston Martin. In this journey though, I realised I was not going to speak to a company, but an agent. This then, was not an interview, but an introductory session and a possible road to an interview at some stage in the future. All the hype and I had forgotten who I was actually talking to... Never mind.
I suppose this information relaxed me somewhat, because upon an early arrival, I stationed myself in the bar lounge of the Holiday Inn, (the agreed meeting place), and bought myself a cup of tea and waited. The place I had chosen to sit down in, was hideous. The surroundings were fine, but the people sitting around me could well have been 2012's set of candidates for 'The Apprentice'. Many a business meeting was happening, with graphs and laptops all over the place, and I overheard the sort of jargon only heard at in a meeting. The phrase, "Blue Sky Thinking". Please! People still use these cliched phrases?
Anyway, about 20 minutes later, a woman turned up and given that I had spoken to her squeaky voice on the phone, I quickly put a voice to face and introduced myself. Our discussion was professional and I think it went very well, even if it wasn't the job interview I had prepared myself for.
"What would you say your sales technique was?" .... "What portfolio of property did you rent out?" .... Etcetera, etcetera. My responses were top-notch. Exactly the sort of things she wanted to hear, I.e. "I saw my targets as a minimum number. I feel that if you're not reaching your target, you're not doing your job properly". HA! I was coming out with some amazing bullshit, and I'm afraid to say it, my arrogance, even if it wasn't true, could match up to the morons I have just watched pleading with Lord Sugar. However, the outcome was good. She was impressed by my ambition, (that was a complete lie), my drive, (that is completely fictional), and my confidence and direct approach, (which is quite unlike me, but just how I approached it). She offered me 3 possible vacancies that she may be able to get an interview for.
1) A Lettings Negotiator, which I know how to do, despite it being in Milton Keynes, where I don't know any road names or places, apart from the roundabouts. And who wants to live on a roundabout?
2) A "Sales Executive", selling all sorts of insurance directly face-to-face or over the phone. I would feel uncomfortable doing this, if truth be told, but I get the feeling this is my favoured choice. I shall tell you why in a second.
3) A "Sales Negotiator", which is pretty much an Estate Agent.
Why I'm drawn towards Number 2 is simple. I confessed at that interview that, "going into the property industry" was 100% what I want to do, (yes, a lie!). If I went with the job that sells insurance, 3-4 months down the line, I would find it easier to quit, citing I had been offered a job in my "preferred field". You must remember, I am completely lying to try and find work and gain money for university. Obviously, I have to go into these interviews claiming I am looking at "long-term career opportunities", and the like. I am not telling them I am going to quit in 4 months, to go to university. Obviously. That would be stupid. Why would they hire someone who is going to quit inside 4 months? They wouldn't.
This is my problem. The place I had an interview yesterday for is my idea of Hell if I'm to be honest with you. But it is just for the Summer, and I could leave without a severely guilty conscious. In fact, I'd be expected to leave. If I am to take a job that may be offered to me after today, (+ an interview), come the day I leave, which WILL happen, I am going to look like a right muppet. If I take the insurance job, that will be easier. If I quit my, "dream job" as a Lettings Agent after 4 months for no apparent reason? Some shits gonna go down. And not in a nice way.
I have never lied so much as I did today. And after the post I wrote a couple of days ago on lies and deceits, this is right up there with the best of them. However, I feel I need to start looking after number one a bit more, and not worry so much about the effects this will have on any company that may fall for my lies and employs me. I was incredibly surprised at my own ability to make up the right answers on the spot in today's interview, but if I do get employed... The day I quit... I will DREAD. Can you imagine the disappointment and anger that they will feel? Man....
I did a good job in deceiving the agent today, but can I continue to lie to get a job that I will quit in a few months? Can I continue the deceit? Do I have the heart to let down a company that may put their faith in me to become the "next best thing"? Can I do it? Time will tell. And let's be honest here, I may not even get an interview! Which will leave me bankrupt or in Hell.
A tough few months coming up, wherever I end up.
First though, I needed a photocopier. I needed this particular instrument to photocopy my driving licence, which is a grumpy looking me on a pink card, and my pay slip to prove I am who I say I am. After not using my brain and getting prepared yesterday, I went to the local library to find that it opens at 2pm on Wednesdays for an unknown reason, and for some reason, decided that my old school, that I left nearly 2 years ago, would suddenly let me use their photocopier. Somehow it worked, as the rather large food technology lady seemed to be in a bright mood, which as far as I can remember was quite a rarity, and before I could say 'Alan Sugar' I was on the road to the old home of Aston Martin. In this journey though, I realised I was not going to speak to a company, but an agent. This then, was not an interview, but an introductory session and a possible road to an interview at some stage in the future. All the hype and I had forgotten who I was actually talking to... Never mind.
I suppose this information relaxed me somewhat, because upon an early arrival, I stationed myself in the bar lounge of the Holiday Inn, (the agreed meeting place), and bought myself a cup of tea and waited. The place I had chosen to sit down in, was hideous. The surroundings were fine, but the people sitting around me could well have been 2012's set of candidates for 'The Apprentice'. Many a business meeting was happening, with graphs and laptops all over the place, and I overheard the sort of jargon only heard at in a meeting. The phrase, "Blue Sky Thinking". Please! People still use these cliched phrases?
Anyway, about 20 minutes later, a woman turned up and given that I had spoken to her squeaky voice on the phone, I quickly put a voice to face and introduced myself. Our discussion was professional and I think it went very well, even if it wasn't the job interview I had prepared myself for.
"What would you say your sales technique was?" .... "What portfolio of property did you rent out?" .... Etcetera, etcetera. My responses were top-notch. Exactly the sort of things she wanted to hear, I.e. "I saw my targets as a minimum number. I feel that if you're not reaching your target, you're not doing your job properly". HA! I was coming out with some amazing bullshit, and I'm afraid to say it, my arrogance, even if it wasn't true, could match up to the morons I have just watched pleading with Lord Sugar. However, the outcome was good. She was impressed by my ambition, (that was a complete lie), my drive, (that is completely fictional), and my confidence and direct approach, (which is quite unlike me, but just how I approached it). She offered me 3 possible vacancies that she may be able to get an interview for.
1) A Lettings Negotiator, which I know how to do, despite it being in Milton Keynes, where I don't know any road names or places, apart from the roundabouts. And who wants to live on a roundabout?
2) A "Sales Executive", selling all sorts of insurance directly face-to-face or over the phone. I would feel uncomfortable doing this, if truth be told, but I get the feeling this is my favoured choice. I shall tell you why in a second.
3) A "Sales Negotiator", which is pretty much an Estate Agent.
Why I'm drawn towards Number 2 is simple. I confessed at that interview that, "going into the property industry" was 100% what I want to do, (yes, a lie!). If I went with the job that sells insurance, 3-4 months down the line, I would find it easier to quit, citing I had been offered a job in my "preferred field". You must remember, I am completely lying to try and find work and gain money for university. Obviously, I have to go into these interviews claiming I am looking at "long-term career opportunities", and the like. I am not telling them I am going to quit in 4 months, to go to university. Obviously. That would be stupid. Why would they hire someone who is going to quit inside 4 months? They wouldn't.
This is my problem. The place I had an interview yesterday for is my idea of Hell if I'm to be honest with you. But it is just for the Summer, and I could leave without a severely guilty conscious. In fact, I'd be expected to leave. If I am to take a job that may be offered to me after today, (+ an interview), come the day I leave, which WILL happen, I am going to look like a right muppet. If I take the insurance job, that will be easier. If I quit my, "dream job" as a Lettings Agent after 4 months for no apparent reason? Some shits gonna go down. And not in a nice way.
I have never lied so much as I did today. And after the post I wrote a couple of days ago on lies and deceits, this is right up there with the best of them. However, I feel I need to start looking after number one a bit more, and not worry so much about the effects this will have on any company that may fall for my lies and employs me. I was incredibly surprised at my own ability to make up the right answers on the spot in today's interview, but if I do get employed... The day I quit... I will DREAD. Can you imagine the disappointment and anger that they will feel? Man....
I did a good job in deceiving the agent today, but can I continue to lie to get a job that I will quit in a few months? Can I continue the deceit? Do I have the heart to let down a company that may put their faith in me to become the "next best thing"? Can I do it? Time will tell. And let's be honest here, I may not even get an interview! Which will leave me bankrupt or in Hell.
A tough few months coming up, wherever I end up.
Tuesday 10 May 2011
The 'London Buses' Story
You know that thing they say about London buses? About the fact you have to wait about 3 hours for one and then two come along at once? Usually, this would make your average passenger rather frustrated given the fact it is a probable waste of resources and time for both passenger and driver.... Zzzzz.... Sorry.
Well, today, it happened! Not with the buses. Incidentally, given that Father Mitten had stole the recently repaired Mittenmobile to go to work in, I had to take the bus. However, yesterday afternoon, I received a phone call from Sally. Sally was a woman. A woman with the keys to employment, and she offered me an interview at GoOutdoors! GoOutdoors, for those of you not in the know how, is a superstore sized camping shopping place that sells everything from tents to shoes to skis to kettles. Don't know why they sell Kettles, they just do. Anyway, they're looking for Summer temp workers, (which is perfect seeing as I'm off to University land in September), so I WALKED, Yes, WALKED, the 35 minutes to this huge place and found out I was indeed 35 minutes too early. So I had a wander round, trying to look interested despite not being interested at all, and eventually when in to see Ian.
It was an interview. Your classic, ridiculously-questioned, interrogating interview. I came out of it feeling OK about it. I feel I put myself across well, even if my knowledge of Outdoor Pursuity things was not really up to scratch. Ian told me they had members of their "team" who were Olympic Kayakists and members of their "team" who had ran 7 marathons in 7 days. I couldn't compete with that! I told him I had completed the Hadrians' Wall Walk, (which is sort of true, despite not completing it at all), and I think the meer fact that I walked there instead of taking the car he acknowledged I had, may have worked in my favour. I walked home thinking, 50-50. We'll see. I had more important things to think about, such as a nostalgic Debenhams lunch with the one and only Master Burkitt!
I grabbed a DayRider, (£3.50!), to good ol' B-Town centre and met Burkitt after his interview at some place that I forget the name of. As I walked towards him, I thought.... Something's changed... He had in fact got rid of his famous long, flowing locks and replaced it with a more, "professional" looking short back and sides. He looked like Donald Trump. Or Boris Johnson. Anyway, he looked very different! After our fantastically small panini in Debenhams, we made our way into town for a bit of a walk round, before I got another phone call.
It was a phone call from possibly the squeakiest voiced woman I had ever heard. Angie, from Citrine Recruitment. I had applied for a job about 3 weeks ago, (remember a job I had good feelings about?) Yeah, that one. I had completely forgotten about it, and she caught me completely unawares. I rang her back 10 minutes later and she offered me an interview for tomorrow! Great news, but I have my reservations. This job is a full-time Trainee Lettings Negotiator position. I know a bit about it, and I would like to do it, but she specifically said, "It's a great position for somebody looking to build a career". Could I possibly go to an interview knowing that I was going to effectively tell them to "F*** Off!" in 4 months time? It is a dog eat dog world out there, but my conscious may not be able to take the fact that I am being interviewed for a long-term position knowing full well I was going to screw them over in a few months time.
This is my dilemma. I could get a position that ends at the perfect time, but is something I honestly don't want to do, (Retail rubbish), or I could get a position that is much more interested in and that the bosses think I'm completely committed to, but I know I will quit in 4 months time. Of course, I may get neither, but what if I get offered both? What would I do?
Suppose I should just concentrate on the interview tomorrow. But this is certainly more action than I'm used to these days! Update coming tomorrow!
Well, today, it happened! Not with the buses. Incidentally, given that Father Mitten had stole the recently repaired Mittenmobile to go to work in, I had to take the bus. However, yesterday afternoon, I received a phone call from Sally. Sally was a woman. A woman with the keys to employment, and she offered me an interview at GoOutdoors! GoOutdoors, for those of you not in the know how, is a superstore sized camping shopping place that sells everything from tents to shoes to skis to kettles. Don't know why they sell Kettles, they just do. Anyway, they're looking for Summer temp workers, (which is perfect seeing as I'm off to University land in September), so I WALKED, Yes, WALKED, the 35 minutes to this huge place and found out I was indeed 35 minutes too early. So I had a wander round, trying to look interested despite not being interested at all, and eventually when in to see Ian.
It was an interview. Your classic, ridiculously-questioned, interrogating interview. I came out of it feeling OK about it. I feel I put myself across well, even if my knowledge of Outdoor Pursuity things was not really up to scratch. Ian told me they had members of their "team" who were Olympic Kayakists and members of their "team" who had ran 7 marathons in 7 days. I couldn't compete with that! I told him I had completed the Hadrians' Wall Walk, (which is sort of true, despite not completing it at all), and I think the meer fact that I walked there instead of taking the car he acknowledged I had, may have worked in my favour. I walked home thinking, 50-50. We'll see. I had more important things to think about, such as a nostalgic Debenhams lunch with the one and only Master Burkitt!
I grabbed a DayRider, (£3.50!), to good ol' B-Town centre and met Burkitt after his interview at some place that I forget the name of. As I walked towards him, I thought.... Something's changed... He had in fact got rid of his famous long, flowing locks and replaced it with a more, "professional" looking short back and sides. He looked like Donald Trump. Or Boris Johnson. Anyway, he looked very different! After our fantastically small panini in Debenhams, we made our way into town for a bit of a walk round, before I got another phone call.
It was a phone call from possibly the squeakiest voiced woman I had ever heard. Angie, from Citrine Recruitment. I had applied for a job about 3 weeks ago, (remember a job I had good feelings about?) Yeah, that one. I had completely forgotten about it, and she caught me completely unawares. I rang her back 10 minutes later and she offered me an interview for tomorrow! Great news, but I have my reservations. This job is a full-time Trainee Lettings Negotiator position. I know a bit about it, and I would like to do it, but she specifically said, "It's a great position for somebody looking to build a career". Could I possibly go to an interview knowing that I was going to effectively tell them to "F*** Off!" in 4 months time? It is a dog eat dog world out there, but my conscious may not be able to take the fact that I am being interviewed for a long-term position knowing full well I was going to screw them over in a few months time.
This is my dilemma. I could get a position that ends at the perfect time, but is something I honestly don't want to do, (Retail rubbish), or I could get a position that is much more interested in and that the bosses think I'm completely committed to, but I know I will quit in 4 months time. Of course, I may get neither, but what if I get offered both? What would I do?
Suppose I should just concentrate on the interview tomorrow. But this is certainly more action than I'm used to these days! Update coming tomorrow!
Monday 9 May 2011
Lies, Deceit and Sportsmanship
I've never been wholly competitive. Since I've been old enough to appreciate it, I've always been a gracious loser. My main aim in playing sport is to enjoy it whatever the result. I am the protagonist of the phrase, "It's the taking part that counts". At the level of sport I play at, there is no point in getting over competitive. The result of the match does not decide your level of pay for the next week. The result of the match does not decide whether you keep your job or not. It is not life or death. It is sport. And it is better and more fun, with a smile across your face, whether winning or losing. (Time to go to sleep, Billie).
Cricket is a sport that SHOULD encapsulate the above paragraph. How can you get over competitive on a cricket pitch? I don't see how you can. How can there be scuffles and confrontations on a cricket pitch? I don't really understand how it happens at international level, where the players are being paid for it, but in the Bedfordshire League? It shouldn't happen.
I've just had a dicussion with another fellow on whether you should, "walk", when playing cricket. The act of "walking" is practically giving yourself out. Knowing that you've edged a ball to the wicket keeper or close fielder, and acknowledging that fact, and walking off before the umpire has made his mind up. The last couple of seasons, I have tried to make a habit of doing it. (Walking, that is. Not getting myself out on purpose!) As most cricketing-acquaintances know, I edge the ball an amazing amount of times. I've even got my own shot, The Mitten Cut, which is the edging of a ball through the slip cordon for 4. However, sometimes I don't get it right, (Yeah, like I mean to play it on purpose!), and I nick it through to the keeper. I've done it lots of times, and I can only think of one time where I stood still and didn't walk, and I felt a bit guilty for it. Ever since then, I always do. Some people think I'm stupid, but I don't think so.
It is called 'The Spirit of Cricket' and on a Sunday afternoon, where your international future is most definitely not at stake, I feel more people can do more to capture the real meaning of the game. I take 2 things into account when "walking". 1) If I were the bowler, and I knew that the batsman had nicked it, I wouldn't be too cheery. You've already got him out, why are you still bowling to him? And 2) If I went on to make 50 or 100, knowing I should of been out when I was on 10, I'd feel like I've cheated myself. Like I didn't deserve it. And where's the fun in that? Your opponents hate you, and you feel like an idiot. I "walked" today. I glanced one down the leg side, saw the keeper take a fantastic catch, and despite only the bowler appealing, I knew I'd hit it, so went on my way. I got a "well done" from a few players for being a good sportsman, and everyone was happy. Ok, I was a bit annoyed for getting out for 13, but at the drinks break, their captain and the keeper came up to me and shook my hand for being a good sport and I felt good about myself. The atmosphere was cheery and it made the whole occasion just that little more happy. Exactly how it should be.
Also, I was umpiring later in the day, and the bowler wasn't happy with one of my LBW decisions. He seemed to think it was out, but I disagreed saying it was too high. It was my honest opinion, and despite the bowler not being happy, everyone knew I wasn't a cheat because of what I had done earlier, and it calmed down instantly. If I had given that not out, and had not walked earlier, I'd of been disliked. And who wants to be disliked? It makes the game a bit ... sour, and to spend the whole day in an atmosphere where you're disliked is my idea of Hell.
I base my life around being a popular person and to be a person who is a laugh to be around and doesn't get angry at everything. A person who always keeps a level head around others. And I think I take that on to any sports field.
I think that's why I have taken a dislike to football in recent years. Football is the opposite end of the spectrum to cricket. High octane, competitive, very zealous and it's just not my idea of fun anymore. I hate being confrontational and getting into arguments with players over something that really isn't worth the hassle. Again, we play every game on a hard, bumpy park pitch somewhere. Why does everyone feel that winning is everything?
And another thing, lying. I made the bad mistake of lying to a friend last year, (I think), over money and ended up spending that on alcohol. I paid the price and learnt the hard way, and since then I have made an effort to just be honest and up-front, even if it is a daunting prospect at the time. On Saturday morning, (it is Monday now after all), I got a text from a player who was supposed to be playing, saying his Grandad was seriously ill, and he couldn't play. My thinking was, "Obviously, family first. That's fine." I wished him well, and worked to find a late replacement. Today, I found out he went off to play for another team and completely lied. To lie in the first place was bad enough, but I'm not sure if many people would stoop so low as to use the excuse he did, and that annoyed me somewhat. I don't understand why people do it. I honestly wouldn't mind if he rang, 15 minutes before the start, and said, "Look mate, I'm stupidly hungover, (this guy wasn't), I don't fancy it and I'm just gonna feel worse, sorry". I wouldn't mind. It would be frustrating, but at least he was honest. Honesty really is the best policy.
And, after learning this lesson with one of my best friends and in my first ever job, I have realised that lying gets you nowhere. Liars always get found out, and it's good practice to take the honesty policy on to any sports pitch, because it will only help you out when your job really is on the line.
Cricket is a sport that SHOULD encapsulate the above paragraph. How can you get over competitive on a cricket pitch? I don't see how you can. How can there be scuffles and confrontations on a cricket pitch? I don't really understand how it happens at international level, where the players are being paid for it, but in the Bedfordshire League? It shouldn't happen.
I've just had a dicussion with another fellow on whether you should, "walk", when playing cricket. The act of "walking" is practically giving yourself out. Knowing that you've edged a ball to the wicket keeper or close fielder, and acknowledging that fact, and walking off before the umpire has made his mind up. The last couple of seasons, I have tried to make a habit of doing it. (Walking, that is. Not getting myself out on purpose!) As most cricketing-acquaintances know, I edge the ball an amazing amount of times. I've even got my own shot, The Mitten Cut, which is the edging of a ball through the slip cordon for 4. However, sometimes I don't get it right, (Yeah, like I mean to play it on purpose!), and I nick it through to the keeper. I've done it lots of times, and I can only think of one time where I stood still and didn't walk, and I felt a bit guilty for it. Ever since then, I always do. Some people think I'm stupid, but I don't think so.
It is called 'The Spirit of Cricket' and on a Sunday afternoon, where your international future is most definitely not at stake, I feel more people can do more to capture the real meaning of the game. I take 2 things into account when "walking". 1) If I were the bowler, and I knew that the batsman had nicked it, I wouldn't be too cheery. You've already got him out, why are you still bowling to him? And 2) If I went on to make 50 or 100, knowing I should of been out when I was on 10, I'd feel like I've cheated myself. Like I didn't deserve it. And where's the fun in that? Your opponents hate you, and you feel like an idiot. I "walked" today. I glanced one down the leg side, saw the keeper take a fantastic catch, and despite only the bowler appealing, I knew I'd hit it, so went on my way. I got a "well done" from a few players for being a good sportsman, and everyone was happy. Ok, I was a bit annoyed for getting out for 13, but at the drinks break, their captain and the keeper came up to me and shook my hand for being a good sport and I felt good about myself. The atmosphere was cheery and it made the whole occasion just that little more happy. Exactly how it should be.
Also, I was umpiring later in the day, and the bowler wasn't happy with one of my LBW decisions. He seemed to think it was out, but I disagreed saying it was too high. It was my honest opinion, and despite the bowler not being happy, everyone knew I wasn't a cheat because of what I had done earlier, and it calmed down instantly. If I had given that not out, and had not walked earlier, I'd of been disliked. And who wants to be disliked? It makes the game a bit ... sour, and to spend the whole day in an atmosphere where you're disliked is my idea of Hell.
I base my life around being a popular person and to be a person who is a laugh to be around and doesn't get angry at everything. A person who always keeps a level head around others. And I think I take that on to any sports field.
I think that's why I have taken a dislike to football in recent years. Football is the opposite end of the spectrum to cricket. High octane, competitive, very zealous and it's just not my idea of fun anymore. I hate being confrontational and getting into arguments with players over something that really isn't worth the hassle. Again, we play every game on a hard, bumpy park pitch somewhere. Why does everyone feel that winning is everything?
And another thing, lying. I made the bad mistake of lying to a friend last year, (I think), over money and ended up spending that on alcohol. I paid the price and learnt the hard way, and since then I have made an effort to just be honest and up-front, even if it is a daunting prospect at the time. On Saturday morning, (it is Monday now after all), I got a text from a player who was supposed to be playing, saying his Grandad was seriously ill, and he couldn't play. My thinking was, "Obviously, family first. That's fine." I wished him well, and worked to find a late replacement. Today, I found out he went off to play for another team and completely lied. To lie in the first place was bad enough, but I'm not sure if many people would stoop so low as to use the excuse he did, and that annoyed me somewhat. I don't understand why people do it. I honestly wouldn't mind if he rang, 15 minutes before the start, and said, "Look mate, I'm stupidly hungover, (this guy wasn't), I don't fancy it and I'm just gonna feel worse, sorry". I wouldn't mind. It would be frustrating, but at least he was honest. Honesty really is the best policy.
And, after learning this lesson with one of my best friends and in my first ever job, I have realised that lying gets you nowhere. Liars always get found out, and it's good practice to take the honesty policy on to any sports pitch, because it will only help you out when your job really is on the line.
Sunday 8 May 2011
The 'F' Word
No, not THAT 'F' word... Another one. It's generally been a FRUSTRATING weekend on and off the cricket pitch.
Saturday, we had a game vs ... someone. They only had 10 vs our youthful 11, but to be fair, this probably made it more fair. Another player for them and it would have been much more difficult. But my Saturday, after getting to sleep at a quite frankly, ridiculous, 6.30am, started much earlier than I had anticipated given I was called at 10am, by a new found friend with an SOS call. Would be unfair to write publicly what's happened, but it mainly involved being a taxi to Clapham and back a few times. Despite the exhaust nearly falling off for a second time, given the first time was nearly a botch job, I made it back in time to go to cricket, (with a few team adjustments after a couple of people lied to go and play elsewhere), and got there just in time. Why some people make up ridiculous lies to go and play elsewhere, 2 hours before a game, is beyond me. Why do it?
Anyway, the game itself was short and sweet. We batted first, I got a nice 48 with 9 boundaries, and every1 else bar a couple got out fairly quickly, giving us a measly 125 to defend with them 6 wickets down by the end. Was generally quite boring and frustrating actually, but I sort of knew it was going to be like this. I only stayed to get a good bat, (anywhere else and I'd be useless), so I have to put up with it.
After a good night's sleep, Sunday was here and a prospect of a better game. We were up against Cople, (who I hd hit a ton against last season, remember?), but this time, we fielded first. Was desperately slow, and frustrating... (Those two words again..), and we came up 13 short of their 174 target. I was snaffled down the leg side for a rubbish 13, although I did walk. I'm proud of my sportsmanship these days, but like I say, there is no point in lying. Just creates confrontation, and that is the last thing I want, or need. I took a decent catch in the last over, positioned at cover, but all-in-all, was rather frustrating. It never helps when the captain attempts to cover his own tracks by blaming individuals. Over-competitiveness coming to the fore. Once again, I don't understand it. It's Sunday league cricket... Lay back and have a laugh...
This evening has been filled with people discussing their problems, (or lack of), and they all seemed to come to me for advice. I don't mind listening to people's problems. In fact, I almost like it, but it does get a bit much when 6 people are all doing so at once, even if 1 of them was a rather poor attempt at a prank. Mr Beddoe had attempted to get revenge for the Prince's Trust joke, but it kind of backfired as me and Kettle countered. I can't be arsed to explain it to be honest, but Beddoe needs to learn his lesson. Don't mess with the Mitten!
So, a frustrating sort of weekend. Only 1 game next weekend also, so an even longer week of complete boredom coming up. Unless something magical happens, and let's face it, it won't. More frustration.
Saturday, we had a game vs ... someone. They only had 10 vs our youthful 11, but to be fair, this probably made it more fair. Another player for them and it would have been much more difficult. But my Saturday, after getting to sleep at a quite frankly, ridiculous, 6.30am, started much earlier than I had anticipated given I was called at 10am, by a new found friend with an SOS call. Would be unfair to write publicly what's happened, but it mainly involved being a taxi to Clapham and back a few times. Despite the exhaust nearly falling off for a second time, given the first time was nearly a botch job, I made it back in time to go to cricket, (with a few team adjustments after a couple of people lied to go and play elsewhere), and got there just in time. Why some people make up ridiculous lies to go and play elsewhere, 2 hours before a game, is beyond me. Why do it?
Anyway, the game itself was short and sweet. We batted first, I got a nice 48 with 9 boundaries, and every1 else bar a couple got out fairly quickly, giving us a measly 125 to defend with them 6 wickets down by the end. Was generally quite boring and frustrating actually, but I sort of knew it was going to be like this. I only stayed to get a good bat, (anywhere else and I'd be useless), so I have to put up with it.
After a good night's sleep, Sunday was here and a prospect of a better game. We were up against Cople, (who I hd hit a ton against last season, remember?), but this time, we fielded first. Was desperately slow, and frustrating... (Those two words again..), and we came up 13 short of their 174 target. I was snaffled down the leg side for a rubbish 13, although I did walk. I'm proud of my sportsmanship these days, but like I say, there is no point in lying. Just creates confrontation, and that is the last thing I want, or need. I took a decent catch in the last over, positioned at cover, but all-in-all, was rather frustrating. It never helps when the captain attempts to cover his own tracks by blaming individuals. Over-competitiveness coming to the fore. Once again, I don't understand it. It's Sunday league cricket... Lay back and have a laugh...
This evening has been filled with people discussing their problems, (or lack of), and they all seemed to come to me for advice. I don't mind listening to people's problems. In fact, I almost like it, but it does get a bit much when 6 people are all doing so at once, even if 1 of them was a rather poor attempt at a prank. Mr Beddoe had attempted to get revenge for the Prince's Trust joke, but it kind of backfired as me and Kettle countered. I can't be arsed to explain it to be honest, but Beddoe needs to learn his lesson. Don't mess with the Mitten!
So, a frustrating sort of weekend. Only 1 game next weekend also, so an even longer week of complete boredom coming up. Unless something magical happens, and let's face it, it won't. More frustration.
Saturday 7 May 2011
Disenchanting
It has possibly been the most boring Monday to Friday I have ever experienced. I genuinely have done nothing with my days. The only bit of "excitement" I can think of, is the bottom half of the car coming off and then spending a lot of money I simply don't have getting it fixed, and even then it hasn't been done properly. Also, some egid, whilst on my way to the garage, felt the need to get out of his car and alert me to the fact that my exhaust was hanging off..
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed the tractor-like noise of the car as it was chugging along, and the scraping sound of metal on concrete!" Moron. He was driving a Mercedes aswell, so naturally he was a prick.
Anyway. Despite being woken up on numerous occasions by Ian The Bathroom Fitter, a Leeds United fan with an accent and demeanour to match, who makes an appearance in the Mitten Household at 8.30am, every morning, without fail, to work on putting a whole new bathroom on to the back of the house... *Breathe*, I do somehow still awake in the early hours of the afternoon, even if Ian The Bathroom Fitter is drilling, sawing, de-tiling, shouting... thus meaning my sleeping pattern is as shot as Osama's brain. Sorry, I had to get that in there...
My attempts to look for work has stepped up a gear. Out of neutral, into 1st.. Part of me just thinks there's no real point. I mean, even if I wanted to work, the opportunities at the moment are scarce and the jobs I do apply for, I receive no reply from whatsoever. It quickly drains you. I am yearning for a rejection letter at the moment, simply to say I've taken a step forward and got a reply!
And then there's University.. All of the Student Finance is sorted, I have my offer and I have sent off my decleration stating I have not told them I am a Saudi national and live in a 5-storey mansion in Islington, and indeed just boring old Mitten from the suburbs of Bedford town. My accommodation application is in the air, split into many an atom and will, and most probably has, landed in the inbox of the Brighton University Accommodation Office, and will, most probably, not be acted upon until the last dregs of the Summer. Everything is sorted. Except my own brain.
I cannot wait to go. The anticipation of beginning a new life 200 miles away is eating away at my brain like a heavily weighted man would eat away at a chicken pie. I want my life to be filled with purpose and meaning, and to be respected amongst my friends and family again, but my brain switches from excitement to pure apprehension and nervousness every time I start to think about it. Small things appear, and suddenly I have a 4-hour discussion with my own brain on what could and could not happen. In short, my brain is being frazzled alive.
'The awkward moment when you realise University is 10 times harder than A-Levels' ... Really? As most of you probably well know, I didn't handle my A-Levels with the greatest ability, and I wonder, what if I am getting myself into the worst possible mess imaginable? I don't know what it's like. I mean, I've almost forgotten what it was like to be in education at all. What if I fall apart again?
I tell myself I will put in 100%, but what if I let myself get under too much pressure again? What if I fail 1st year? Then what? No. I can't think like that. It definitely won't happen if I think like that. But I do have this discussion with myself at least once a fortnight. It's a killer. Of course, University is life changing. Personality changing. Life defining. It will most definitely be better than the disenchanting life I lead at the moment... It has to be.
Back to the present, and of course, you have guessed it, it's 2.30am. Of course it is. I have cricket tomorrow and Sunday, (Wonderfully British weather permitting, obviously), and I will admit to being slightly nervous. After last week's calamities, I have put myself under pressure to at least survive more than 1 ball, and you know me.. Always thinking negatively. I've got a bad feeling I may well think myself into surrender. Father Mitten has earnt a debut call-up aswell, at late notice. Even more embarrassing if I fail in front of him! A small part of me, is genuinely hoping for rain.
And don't even get me started on Nick Clegg. Deary me.
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed the tractor-like noise of the car as it was chugging along, and the scraping sound of metal on concrete!" Moron. He was driving a Mercedes aswell, so naturally he was a prick.
Anyway. Despite being woken up on numerous occasions by Ian The Bathroom Fitter, a Leeds United fan with an accent and demeanour to match, who makes an appearance in the Mitten Household at 8.30am, every morning, without fail, to work on putting a whole new bathroom on to the back of the house... *Breathe*, I do somehow still awake in the early hours of the afternoon, even if Ian The Bathroom Fitter is drilling, sawing, de-tiling, shouting... thus meaning my sleeping pattern is as shot as Osama's brain. Sorry, I had to get that in there...
My attempts to look for work has stepped up a gear. Out of neutral, into 1st.. Part of me just thinks there's no real point. I mean, even if I wanted to work, the opportunities at the moment are scarce and the jobs I do apply for, I receive no reply from whatsoever. It quickly drains you. I am yearning for a rejection letter at the moment, simply to say I've taken a step forward and got a reply!
And then there's University.. All of the Student Finance is sorted, I have my offer and I have sent off my decleration stating I have not told them I am a Saudi national and live in a 5-storey mansion in Islington, and indeed just boring old Mitten from the suburbs of Bedford town. My accommodation application is in the air, split into many an atom and will, and most probably has, landed in the inbox of the Brighton University Accommodation Office, and will, most probably, not be acted upon until the last dregs of the Summer. Everything is sorted. Except my own brain.
I cannot wait to go. The anticipation of beginning a new life 200 miles away is eating away at my brain like a heavily weighted man would eat away at a chicken pie. I want my life to be filled with purpose and meaning, and to be respected amongst my friends and family again, but my brain switches from excitement to pure apprehension and nervousness every time I start to think about it. Small things appear, and suddenly I have a 4-hour discussion with my own brain on what could and could not happen. In short, my brain is being frazzled alive.
'The awkward moment when you realise University is 10 times harder than A-Levels' ... Really? As most of you probably well know, I didn't handle my A-Levels with the greatest ability, and I wonder, what if I am getting myself into the worst possible mess imaginable? I don't know what it's like. I mean, I've almost forgotten what it was like to be in education at all. What if I fall apart again?
I tell myself I will put in 100%, but what if I let myself get under too much pressure again? What if I fail 1st year? Then what? No. I can't think like that. It definitely won't happen if I think like that. But I do have this discussion with myself at least once a fortnight. It's a killer. Of course, University is life changing. Personality changing. Life defining. It will most definitely be better than the disenchanting life I lead at the moment... It has to be.
Back to the present, and of course, you have guessed it, it's 2.30am. Of course it is. I have cricket tomorrow and Sunday, (Wonderfully British weather permitting, obviously), and I will admit to being slightly nervous. After last week's calamities, I have put myself under pressure to at least survive more than 1 ball, and you know me.. Always thinking negatively. I've got a bad feeling I may well think myself into surrender. Father Mitten has earnt a debut call-up aswell, at late notice. Even more embarrassing if I fail in front of him! A small part of me, is genuinely hoping for rain.
And don't even get me started on Nick Clegg. Deary me.
Thursday 5 May 2011
Exhaustion
Nothing has happened this week to be honest. This blog post is going to be arduously short. But it's been 3 days, and my commitment to my avid set of readers is big!
There's this bloke. He fits new bathrooms, and this week it's the Mitten Household's turn. He has come in, every day this week, at 8.30am, without fail. Every morning, making a racket, destroying the old bathroom, with the loudest set of tools possible. And every morning, without fail, he has the loudest ringtone that rings once every 3 and a half minutes, because this guy is the Head of the Bedford Mafia or something. Obviously, it doesn't wake me up. There would have to be a tsunami to wake me up, and even then I would contemplate another 10 minutes... On Tuesday, I was sort of embarrassed coming out of my room at 3 o clock in the afternoon, (as my sleeping pattern has reached ridiculous heights), so stayed in there until he had gone at 5, just dossing on the laptop.. (Don't!) Today, I went out to introduce myself, to the shock of the Bathroom Fitter, as he realised there was indeed another person living in this house. No, I am not an intruder.
The other big story of the week, is the Mittenmobie. The exhaust[ion] had nearly fallen off, until I dragged it round to the garage, (as Mick doesn't do exhausts, hey Kettle!), and they charged me a ridiculous £130 for a couple of bits of metal. It's still there now, waiting to be completed in the morning. I've got to wake up at 11 to collect it. 11am?! That's before lunchtime! Twice in 2 weeks? How unlucky is that...
Still, another weekend of cricket to look forward to, hopefully with better results than last weekend and then we're back at square one, hopefully with a working exhaust and no Yorkshire-accented bathroom guy. Great.
There's this bloke. He fits new bathrooms, and this week it's the Mitten Household's turn. He has come in, every day this week, at 8.30am, without fail. Every morning, making a racket, destroying the old bathroom, with the loudest set of tools possible. And every morning, without fail, he has the loudest ringtone that rings once every 3 and a half minutes, because this guy is the Head of the Bedford Mafia or something. Obviously, it doesn't wake me up. There would have to be a tsunami to wake me up, and even then I would contemplate another 10 minutes... On Tuesday, I was sort of embarrassed coming out of my room at 3 o clock in the afternoon, (as my sleeping pattern has reached ridiculous heights), so stayed in there until he had gone at 5, just dossing on the laptop.. (Don't!) Today, I went out to introduce myself, to the shock of the Bathroom Fitter, as he realised there was indeed another person living in this house. No, I am not an intruder.
The other big story of the week, is the Mittenmobie. The exhaust[ion] had nearly fallen off, until I dragged it round to the garage, (as Mick doesn't do exhausts, hey Kettle!), and they charged me a ridiculous £130 for a couple of bits of metal. It's still there now, waiting to be completed in the morning. I've got to wake up at 11 to collect it. 11am?! That's before lunchtime! Twice in 2 weeks? How unlucky is that...
Still, another weekend of cricket to look forward to, hopefully with better results than last weekend and then we're back at square one, hopefully with a working exhaust and no Yorkshire-accented bathroom guy. Great.
Monday 2 May 2011
Sporting Torture
1st May. After 6 months of waiting, frustrating indoor practice and watching the snow wanting the Summer to be here, it had finally arrived. The cricket season. After my midweek claims that I wasn't as excited as I should be, Saturday night came quickly, (after a refereeing postponement), and the excitement was through the roof. A long, and hopefully, successful Summer awaits. I was like a little kid at Christmas, trying to get to sleep, but not being able to. Sounds sad? I don't care.
Maybe I was dreaming when I finally drifted off to sleep, because despite being excited and looking forward immensely to the start of a new season, everything that could of gone wrong, did. I'll talk you through it, (if you're not interested.... Billie... Skip to the bit about the pub, where things get MUCH better!)
Anyway. We turned up to this ground in Hitchin, (well, near Hitchin..), and upon arrival, found out we had a late, late drop-out, leaving us with 10 players. Losing a player in cricket is vitally important. You can really see the gap in the field, and at the end of the day, you have 1 less person to bat. But, no matter. We would fight on! We lost the toss on a good-looking early season track, (apologies for the jargon), at which point I would be asked to keep. No matter. I've done it a few times before and I'm surprisingly confident with a pair of wicket-keeping gloves. We started off quite well. We got an early wicket, thanks to a diving one-handed catch from Yours Truly, (Of course, I have a reputation to uphold), but that is honestly about as good as it gets. Their number 3, hit us all around Hertfordshire and finally got out for 97. A few other contributions of 50+, even with a nifty take standing up to Collins by me, left them with a total, after 45 thigh-bursting, sweat-inducing, brain-muddling overs, of 316. It was nothing short of sporting torture.
We were never going to win. Despite claims that the situation needed, "a big attitude" and "confidence", the conviction in the voices suggesting it, were not there. I knew this. Everyone else knew this. Nevertheless, I would still go out and bat. Personal milestones up for grabs, but what happened was nothing short of a nightmare. I opened the batting all of last year, never really that afraid I would get out first ball of the innings. Today... My legs had gone. Keeping for 45 overs really takes it out on your thighs and hands, and as I walked out in to the middle, my legs were wobbling like jelly. Being inactive for the last 3-4 months has taken it's toll. There was a fairly considerable pause as the sight-screens were sorted and the wicket-keeper grabbed his gloves, but finally, after the longest Winter imaginable, I was out there, in the middle.
And then I was back in the changing room. I don't know what happened. This bowler, (allegedly an overseas bowler), had an average run-up, and looked fairly lazy, but before I even knew what happened, I heard the crack of ball on wood. Clean bowled. 1st ball. Diamond Duck. I had been beaten for pace, and as I trudged off, head bowed more out of embarrassment than annoyance, I felt the anger surge up inside me. Upon reaching the changing rooms, I chucked my bat at the wall, took off my pads, grabbed my phone and a drink, and went to sit down where no one could see me. This is unlike me. I don't get angry when I lose out. I just don't. I'm a very good loser, content with taking part. My competitiveness is all but zero, but today was different. The anticipation of another season.. The excitement of being out there again... All ruined.
Those 20 minutes, sat round the back of the pavilion, were dark. I had just embarrassed myself in front of all my team-mates, and provided no fight to a situation that needed it. The words of the captain were still ringing in my ears. "Preserve your wicket"... For those 20 minutes, I was as down as I ever have been..
I came round however, helping to score our very average innings of 154, losing by 162 runs... We hadn't even got halfway to our target. Annihalation. To be honest, by this stage, I just wanted to go home. The worst possible start, to what I have a strange feeling, is going to be an awfully long season...
But now, the pub quiz! Upon getting back from cricket, I was out the door as quickly as you can say, "Jack Daniels", and was on my way to the weekly Sunday night quiz. I won't mention the quiz itself, as we were missing our usual brainboxes, but on Sundays, there is a special game of Bingo, that you don't need a brain cell to play. 1 line wins a tube of pringles, 2 lines wins a tube of pringles and something else, (today being a fair amount of Dairy Milk), and a full house wins a round of drinks for your team. Upon winning 2 lines, and an insanely loud call of "YEP!", from myself, we were greeted with our prize, and after a tense and long wait for my single number, 48, to come up, we cheered as I had won our team a free drink each! Lovely! I took advantage and had a JD and coke, as you do, and my mood from earlier had brightened considerably!
Towards the end of the night, there was a power cut. For some reason, I thought this warranted a trip to the old stomping ground, BP. I have been in there a couple of times in recent weeks, just to say hello to the cool people that worked there, so I thought I'd do the same tonight. Expecting to run in to The Wall again, I was greatly surprised to see Female Alex and Kash working the night-shift and after letting me in, (as the doors were locked), I went ahead and stole all of the waste food from the day before. Sandwiches, cakes, bottles of drink. I had the lot, and seeing as there was a power cut, there were no cameras to see me! Kerching! I also learnt that The Wall was not there, and will not be there for the next 12 weeks, which must surely spell the end of his BP career. Just a shame it never happened while I was there! Never mind...
It's a shame about today. I had been looking forward to today for so, so long, and for it to go like that is a killer. However, I shall remind myself that I got a duck in my first competitive match last year, and went on to get my first ton and a good season. There is a long way to go, but many more matches like today... No thanks.
Maybe I was dreaming when I finally drifted off to sleep, because despite being excited and looking forward immensely to the start of a new season, everything that could of gone wrong, did. I'll talk you through it, (if you're not interested.... Billie... Skip to the bit about the pub, where things get MUCH better!)
Anyway. We turned up to this ground in Hitchin, (well, near Hitchin..), and upon arrival, found out we had a late, late drop-out, leaving us with 10 players. Losing a player in cricket is vitally important. You can really see the gap in the field, and at the end of the day, you have 1 less person to bat. But, no matter. We would fight on! We lost the toss on a good-looking early season track, (apologies for the jargon), at which point I would be asked to keep. No matter. I've done it a few times before and I'm surprisingly confident with a pair of wicket-keeping gloves. We started off quite well. We got an early wicket, thanks to a diving one-handed catch from Yours Truly, (Of course, I have a reputation to uphold), but that is honestly about as good as it gets. Their number 3, hit us all around Hertfordshire and finally got out for 97. A few other contributions of 50+, even with a nifty take standing up to Collins by me, left them with a total, after 45 thigh-bursting, sweat-inducing, brain-muddling overs, of 316. It was nothing short of sporting torture.
We were never going to win. Despite claims that the situation needed, "a big attitude" and "confidence", the conviction in the voices suggesting it, were not there. I knew this. Everyone else knew this. Nevertheless, I would still go out and bat. Personal milestones up for grabs, but what happened was nothing short of a nightmare. I opened the batting all of last year, never really that afraid I would get out first ball of the innings. Today... My legs had gone. Keeping for 45 overs really takes it out on your thighs and hands, and as I walked out in to the middle, my legs were wobbling like jelly. Being inactive for the last 3-4 months has taken it's toll. There was a fairly considerable pause as the sight-screens were sorted and the wicket-keeper grabbed his gloves, but finally, after the longest Winter imaginable, I was out there, in the middle.
And then I was back in the changing room. I don't know what happened. This bowler, (allegedly an overseas bowler), had an average run-up, and looked fairly lazy, but before I even knew what happened, I heard the crack of ball on wood. Clean bowled. 1st ball. Diamond Duck. I had been beaten for pace, and as I trudged off, head bowed more out of embarrassment than annoyance, I felt the anger surge up inside me. Upon reaching the changing rooms, I chucked my bat at the wall, took off my pads, grabbed my phone and a drink, and went to sit down where no one could see me. This is unlike me. I don't get angry when I lose out. I just don't. I'm a very good loser, content with taking part. My competitiveness is all but zero, but today was different. The anticipation of another season.. The excitement of being out there again... All ruined.
Those 20 minutes, sat round the back of the pavilion, were dark. I had just embarrassed myself in front of all my team-mates, and provided no fight to a situation that needed it. The words of the captain were still ringing in my ears. "Preserve your wicket"... For those 20 minutes, I was as down as I ever have been..
I came round however, helping to score our very average innings of 154, losing by 162 runs... We hadn't even got halfway to our target. Annihalation. To be honest, by this stage, I just wanted to go home. The worst possible start, to what I have a strange feeling, is going to be an awfully long season...
But now, the pub quiz! Upon getting back from cricket, I was out the door as quickly as you can say, "Jack Daniels", and was on my way to the weekly Sunday night quiz. I won't mention the quiz itself, as we were missing our usual brainboxes, but on Sundays, there is a special game of Bingo, that you don't need a brain cell to play. 1 line wins a tube of pringles, 2 lines wins a tube of pringles and something else, (today being a fair amount of Dairy Milk), and a full house wins a round of drinks for your team. Upon winning 2 lines, and an insanely loud call of "YEP!", from myself, we were greeted with our prize, and after a tense and long wait for my single number, 48, to come up, we cheered as I had won our team a free drink each! Lovely! I took advantage and had a JD and coke, as you do, and my mood from earlier had brightened considerably!
Towards the end of the night, there was a power cut. For some reason, I thought this warranted a trip to the old stomping ground, BP. I have been in there a couple of times in recent weeks, just to say hello to the cool people that worked there, so I thought I'd do the same tonight. Expecting to run in to The Wall again, I was greatly surprised to see Female Alex and Kash working the night-shift and after letting me in, (as the doors were locked), I went ahead and stole all of the waste food from the day before. Sandwiches, cakes, bottles of drink. I had the lot, and seeing as there was a power cut, there were no cameras to see me! Kerching! I also learnt that The Wall was not there, and will not be there for the next 12 weeks, which must surely spell the end of his BP career. Just a shame it never happened while I was there! Never mind...
It's a shame about today. I had been looking forward to today for so, so long, and for it to go like that is a killer. However, I shall remind myself that I got a duck in my first competitive match last year, and went on to get my first ton and a good season. There is a long way to go, but many more matches like today... No thanks.
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