Seeing the blank screen in front of me is a bad sign. I want to scream and shout my feelings in the direction of anyone who cares, and although lots of people do, I just seem to get the feeling that no one really understands. Even that sounds stupid, because most of the people I'm talking to have been through the same experience. But no one understands the feelings from inside my head. The same head that has taken an absolute battering over the past couple of years. The same head that has given up countless times. The same head who cannot hack the demands of life.
I can hear the laddish overtones of a group of guys heading out. A "lad" has just shouted "You Fat Bastard!" in the general direction of my open window, although I highly doubt it was aimed at me. Some more "lads" have seemingly just played a prank on another "lad" because the howling laughter that is now eminating from down below is too loud. I have no idea where people are going, whether it be to Brighton or to the seafront, and frankly, I don't care. All that is going through my head is the moment is the mountaneous desire to go home and the rising temptation to give in. Again. I cannot quite believe I'm feeling like this. After 8 months of looking forward to fun times with similarly joyous flatmates, I have been landed with a whole Halls worth of absolute cretins and louts. The disappointment and guilt that is slowly filling inside me is becoming too overpowering, and once more, I find myself in the same position as always. I cannot do this. And I'm really starting to think... Can I do anything?
It's not as if the day started badly either. I was nervous about our forthcoming coaching practice at the local primary school, but I was confident I would do OK. No one else in the group was seemingly enthusiastic, probably because they had been out the night before, but I was raring to go and give it all the energy I had left, despite the emotional draining I've had the last couple of days. We turned up, and got into our groups from yesterday, admittedly not really knowing what they were.. Yesterday was incredibly rushed and given I wasn't in the best of moods, I wasn't prepared to traipse through drills and exercises to use after our session, and decided that going with the flow would be the best thing. Turning up at the school this morning, I realised that this was the best thing, as I saw the kids running across the field. I swear I wasn't that small when I was 10?
The session, given it was an hour long, absolutely flew by. We played a few games of 'King of the Ring' as the whole group of 8 seemed to enjoy it, before doing a few shooting exercises that included scoring a lot of goals before a little game and a penalty shoot out at the end. We went with the flow, and concentrated on trying to make it fun for the kids, and I think that worked. They were amazingly hyperactive, and it was sometimes very difficult to keep control of them. Some of them were very handy young footballers, whereas some of them... weren't. It made it challenging, but the challenge was good!
So, this is my dilemma. The course, right from the off, is fun. Halls, is anything but. I want to carry on with my course, more than anything, but in equal measure, I want to leave this place. The university lifestyle is just not what I imagined, and I cannot see myself settling in at all. I just can't see it. I'm going home tomorrow, coming back on Monday, and many a discussion will take place about what to do next. But, after 8 months of looking forward to the craziness of it all, it's taken a single week for me to realise it really isn't what everyone says it is. Not in my eyes anyway.
Why am I like this?
Friday 30 September 2011
Thursday 29 September 2011
The First Signs
I wasn't looking forward to this bit. I knew deep down, that it would come eventually, but I didn't expect it to be so strong, and come so soon after leaving home. The inevitable feeling of homesickness has hit me, and it's hit me hard.
I don't know what it is. I've enjoyed my first few days here, going out and getting drunk, talking to new people, I have. But the last couple of days really have been a struggle, and although I know a couple of you are saying, right now as you read this, "That's because you didn't go out!", I don't believe it is that. I think the problem is, that despite making a lot of new friends, most of which call me 'MySpace' as a nickname, I haven't really found anyone who is like me. A couple of my flatmates are nice enough, but the ones I do get on with just seem to go off and do their own thing. Whether that be going for a smoke, or playing a guitar, or playing on the brand new FIFA 12 on their 32-inch widescreen. I don't want to feel like I'm getting in the way, and I take interest in none of these things. It sounds ridiculous reading it back. Along with this, there is definitely no one here who I can talk to about these things, no one I can trust, not by a long shot, to take my feelings seriously, although they can most probably relate to them. Most of the people here seem to have just taken it all in their stride, and me being me, I haven't. Now I've started to let these feelings in, I fear a domino effect that will only end in the same result it always ends in.
Today saw the beginning of our course, and I was sort of looking forward to it this morning. I had had an early night, (Nope, not Freshers behaviour), on the ridiculously hard beds we've been provided with. I was apprehensive, yes, but looking forward to hearing what we had to do. The feeling of apprehension is one that I have been feeling ever since I got here to be honest... It didn't help that I misread the article on StudentCentral, thinking we were coaching the school today, and not tomorrow. That was the main reason I didn't go out, knowing that I had to coach in a Primary school at 9.30am. The first impression I would have given, the impression that I'm a complete waster, wouldn't have been a good one. Instead what happened, was we met at Eastbourne Sports Park, right next to Sussex Downs College, after an expensive taxi, and were split into 4 groups of 5 and 6. We had to plan a session to deliver to 10-year old primary school children tomorrow afternoon, and I've got to admit, it was tough work. The guys, (who won't read this), were about as vibrant and enthusiastic as an oak tree, and I tried more than anything to bounce ideas around for our planned football session, but got the response of a group of scarecrows. The session we planned looked boring, disenchanting and downright rubbish. I highly doubt that these guys, (apart from maybe 1), will even think about looking for anything else, which means I've got to russle up an hour's worth of session, with no inspiration in my belly at all.
I can't say I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and I'm failing to think of anything I'm looking forward to in the near future unless you count Christmas, when I get to go home. I was hoping more than anything that I wouldn't be like this, but it has begun. And as you all know, I have no faith and confidence in myself to reverse the situation. I just want to give Mum a hug.
I don't know what it is. I've enjoyed my first few days here, going out and getting drunk, talking to new people, I have. But the last couple of days really have been a struggle, and although I know a couple of you are saying, right now as you read this, "That's because you didn't go out!", I don't believe it is that. I think the problem is, that despite making a lot of new friends, most of which call me 'MySpace' as a nickname, I haven't really found anyone who is like me. A couple of my flatmates are nice enough, but the ones I do get on with just seem to go off and do their own thing. Whether that be going for a smoke, or playing a guitar, or playing on the brand new FIFA 12 on their 32-inch widescreen. I don't want to feel like I'm getting in the way, and I take interest in none of these things. It sounds ridiculous reading it back. Along with this, there is definitely no one here who I can talk to about these things, no one I can trust, not by a long shot, to take my feelings seriously, although they can most probably relate to them. Most of the people here seem to have just taken it all in their stride, and me being me, I haven't. Now I've started to let these feelings in, I fear a domino effect that will only end in the same result it always ends in.
Today saw the beginning of our course, and I was sort of looking forward to it this morning. I had had an early night, (Nope, not Freshers behaviour), on the ridiculously hard beds we've been provided with. I was apprehensive, yes, but looking forward to hearing what we had to do. The feeling of apprehension is one that I have been feeling ever since I got here to be honest... It didn't help that I misread the article on StudentCentral, thinking we were coaching the school today, and not tomorrow. That was the main reason I didn't go out, knowing that I had to coach in a Primary school at 9.30am. The first impression I would have given, the impression that I'm a complete waster, wouldn't have been a good one. Instead what happened, was we met at Eastbourne Sports Park, right next to Sussex Downs College, after an expensive taxi, and were split into 4 groups of 5 and 6. We had to plan a session to deliver to 10-year old primary school children tomorrow afternoon, and I've got to admit, it was tough work. The guys, (who won't read this), were about as vibrant and enthusiastic as an oak tree, and I tried more than anything to bounce ideas around for our planned football session, but got the response of a group of scarecrows. The session we planned looked boring, disenchanting and downright rubbish. I highly doubt that these guys, (apart from maybe 1), will even think about looking for anything else, which means I've got to russle up an hour's worth of session, with no inspiration in my belly at all.
I can't say I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and I'm failing to think of anything I'm looking forward to in the near future unless you count Christmas, when I get to go home. I was hoping more than anything that I wouldn't be like this, but it has begun. And as you all know, I have no faith and confidence in myself to reverse the situation. I just want to give Mum a hug.
Tuesday 27 September 2011
I Believe I Can Fly
I have found a small window of opportunity to update you all on this University experience, seeing as I've just got back from a marathon bike journey. And besides, I have to tell those of you lucky enough not to get a phone call from me at a ridiculous time of the day last night.
It's all a bit hazy, so bear with me. After the potential on the first day, it was time for the 'Where's Wally' pub crawl. We had our t-shirts, that bizarrely cost us £8, and looked nothing like the ones seen in the popular childrens books and I had my glasses, drawn on in permanent black marker by a Student Union rep, and something else written on my forehead, that I never worked out what it said. I now know it was simply, "FRESHER" and nothing more... sinister! It was a slow start, admittedly, just sitting in the SU, chatting, having a couple of JD and cokes, and a couple of Agwabombs, (Nope, I don't know either), before we were ushered into different groups and left for the now familiar long walk to Town.
It was very strange on the way. The reps, (3 to a group), attempted to play some games that included different actions when 1 or 2 whistles were blown. Either getting on the floor or getting off the floor with the punishment if you were the last one, some unbeknown challenge that was designed to be embarrassing... I didn't lose at all, especially after jumping on Ryan's back to get off the floor, but my time would come later... We moved on to about 5 other bars, playing some games along the way including 'I Have Never', 'Boat Race', (which is pretty much a race to see who can see off a drink quickest) and, in the first bar, we had your generic, 'Go Round The Group And Introduce Yourself' game. Name, where you're from, what course and an interesting fact about yourself.
Now, I've never been very good at this. Not that amazing, despite my brief acting days, at standing up in front of a group and telling them about myself, especially when 99% of these people, I hardly knew at all. The only difference this time, from other times, is that I had a decent enough amount of alcohol circling my system, and I decided I would go for it. I couldn't think of a fact though, so Brummie Ryan suggested I tell them I was the creator of MySpace. You all know that story by now, right? I went for it, stood up on my chair, (that exuded confidence), and introduced myself, said I was from Bedford and told this group of around 50 Freshers that I created MySpace. Obviously, it went down well. The reps said it was 'Quite obviously bullshit' though, which was fair enough, and my punishment was to stand on the large table, in the middle of the squared group, and sing a song. Right. This is unfamiliar territory, but I decided that I would embarrass myself even more if I refused, so got up on the table and asked everyone what song they wanted to hear. There were quite a few suggestions, of which I can't remember, before I overheard someone shout, 'I Believe I Can Fly'.. I know that... (I thought). I can do that!
And, before the Rep could stop me, I was belting out a version of 'I Believe I Can Fly', in front of 50 people I had only just met..
"I believe I can fly! I believe I can touch the sky! I think about it every night and day! Spread my wings and flyyy awayyyy! I believe I can soar! See me runnin' through that open doooooor! I believe I can flyyy!"
Everyone joined in, and I have to say, it was amazing. The rep said to me after, "You know what, I felt a bit bad making you do that, because I thought it would be a bit awkward if you were shit, but that was fucking amazing". I was shocked. I'm no singer, but I've gotta admit, it did sound good, and I even got compliments from a few others saying I was "a very good singer". Ha! And just the fact I got EVERYONE to join in... It ranks up there as an amazing moment.
The rest of the night was your standard, but very enjoyable night. Of course, the old Jagerbomb trick came out, but I only ordered 6 this time, in fear of making a fool of myself, and, in 'Kings', Rachel very kindly spent a lot of money on a few double JD and cokes, and some ridiculous tower of shots that cost her £6, but I did return the favour later in the night, even if she did pour her Vodka all over me in revenge for me pouring water over her. Just ridiculous. And all of this was before we ended up laying in Eastbourne Royal Golf Course, for over an hour, on wet grass. Oh deary, deary me...
I was supposed to attend the Freshers Fair earlier, but I genuinely woke up at 8.30am, still drunk. I went back to sleep at 9.30am, and slept through until around half past 2, which signalled the start of my marathon bike ride to find a route to my college. It was insanely long, but simple, yet I do think there is a shorter route. I've just got to find it. One more word about the food, which is amazingly ridiculous, and certainly justifies the crazy amount of money I'm spending on these Halls. Talking of food, I suppose I'd better go get some!
I can only presume we're heading out again tonight, but I'm really not feeling going mental again. Clearly, that means another mental night ahead. No rest for the University wicked.
It's all a bit hazy, so bear with me. After the potential on the first day, it was time for the 'Where's Wally' pub crawl. We had our t-shirts, that bizarrely cost us £8, and looked nothing like the ones seen in the popular childrens books and I had my glasses, drawn on in permanent black marker by a Student Union rep, and something else written on my forehead, that I never worked out what it said. I now know it was simply, "FRESHER" and nothing more... sinister! It was a slow start, admittedly, just sitting in the SU, chatting, having a couple of JD and cokes, and a couple of Agwabombs, (Nope, I don't know either), before we were ushered into different groups and left for the now familiar long walk to Town.
It was very strange on the way. The reps, (3 to a group), attempted to play some games that included different actions when 1 or 2 whistles were blown. Either getting on the floor or getting off the floor with the punishment if you were the last one, some unbeknown challenge that was designed to be embarrassing... I didn't lose at all, especially after jumping on Ryan's back to get off the floor, but my time would come later... We moved on to about 5 other bars, playing some games along the way including 'I Have Never', 'Boat Race', (which is pretty much a race to see who can see off a drink quickest) and, in the first bar, we had your generic, 'Go Round The Group And Introduce Yourself' game. Name, where you're from, what course and an interesting fact about yourself.
Now, I've never been very good at this. Not that amazing, despite my brief acting days, at standing up in front of a group and telling them about myself, especially when 99% of these people, I hardly knew at all. The only difference this time, from other times, is that I had a decent enough amount of alcohol circling my system, and I decided I would go for it. I couldn't think of a fact though, so Brummie Ryan suggested I tell them I was the creator of MySpace. You all know that story by now, right? I went for it, stood up on my chair, (that exuded confidence), and introduced myself, said I was from Bedford and told this group of around 50 Freshers that I created MySpace. Obviously, it went down well. The reps said it was 'Quite obviously bullshit' though, which was fair enough, and my punishment was to stand on the large table, in the middle of the squared group, and sing a song. Right. This is unfamiliar territory, but I decided that I would embarrass myself even more if I refused, so got up on the table and asked everyone what song they wanted to hear. There were quite a few suggestions, of which I can't remember, before I overheard someone shout, 'I Believe I Can Fly'.. I know that... (I thought). I can do that!
And, before the Rep could stop me, I was belting out a version of 'I Believe I Can Fly', in front of 50 people I had only just met..
"I believe I can fly! I believe I can touch the sky! I think about it every night and day! Spread my wings and flyyy awayyyy! I believe I can soar! See me runnin' through that open doooooor! I believe I can flyyy!"
Everyone joined in, and I have to say, it was amazing. The rep said to me after, "You know what, I felt a bit bad making you do that, because I thought it would be a bit awkward if you were shit, but that was fucking amazing". I was shocked. I'm no singer, but I've gotta admit, it did sound good, and I even got compliments from a few others saying I was "a very good singer". Ha! And just the fact I got EVERYONE to join in... It ranks up there as an amazing moment.
The rest of the night was your standard, but very enjoyable night. Of course, the old Jagerbomb trick came out, but I only ordered 6 this time, in fear of making a fool of myself, and, in 'Kings', Rachel very kindly spent a lot of money on a few double JD and cokes, and some ridiculous tower of shots that cost her £6, but I did return the favour later in the night, even if she did pour her Vodka all over me in revenge for me pouring water over her. Just ridiculous. And all of this was before we ended up laying in Eastbourne Royal Golf Course, for over an hour, on wet grass. Oh deary, deary me...
I was supposed to attend the Freshers Fair earlier, but I genuinely woke up at 8.30am, still drunk. I went back to sleep at 9.30am, and slept through until around half past 2, which signalled the start of my marathon bike ride to find a route to my college. It was insanely long, but simple, yet I do think there is a shorter route. I've just got to find it. One more word about the food, which is amazingly ridiculous, and certainly justifies the crazy amount of money I'm spending on these Halls. Talking of food, I suppose I'd better go get some!
I can only presume we're heading out again tonight, but I'm really not feeling going mental again. Clearly, that means another mental night ahead. No rest for the University wicked.
Sunday 25 September 2011
Vodka Helps
Some would argue that I shouldn't be here, in my room, typing up a blog post, but in fairness, I have spent the last 24 hours away from a computer. I'm starting to get withdrawal symptoms here! I have spent my time here getting to know my new flatmates, generally socialising, (the occasional drink may be included*), and just chatting.
I cannot put into words how nervous I was yesterday morning. I had had a dream, that Gordon Brown, Gok Wan and Mr.Blobby were my flatmates for the year. It was probably a nightmare, but being woken up by Mother Mitten was a happy thing, and the day had finally come. "Being nervous" doesn't cut the mustard in this particular situation, but I was never going to back out at that stage. I cannot imagine the regret that would fill the rest of my life if I backed out. And I'm not going to act like it didn't cross my mind. It did.
The journey here was frightful. I was couped up in the back with suitcases and bags, transporting my whole life to another location, 3 hours away. I felt sick, through the travelling and quite probably the nerves and it was quite generally a horrific journey. I was scared that 'being me' was not going to be good enough for my flatmates, and I would end up being secluded in my room, whilst everyone else was out making new friendships. The classic Mitten ritual of thinking up the worst possible situations was in full flow in the back of that car.
Upon parking in the Halls car-park however, it all seemed to vanish. This was going to happen, and woe betide me if I was going to panic and do naff-all. Everyone around me looked as nervous as I was, even if a couple of them were carrying in 32-inch plasma TV's. As I hauled everything into my room, of which I gained a first glance on entry, I completely calmed down. The nerves had almost gone, and I met the only other person who was here, Rachael, who is great, and then we went to get some lunch and some much-needed essentials. You all know what I mean when I say "essentials" right?
We went to Sainsbury's, which is a trek and a half into the town centre, and got in some food. And some beer. And maybe a bottle of vodka. And a bottle of Jack Daniels... Too much? Pah. Whatever. My parents then left me to it, leaving at about 3.30pm, (possibly the biggest anti-climax to an event, ever), and I went to talk to Rachael. There was no awkwardness there. We chatted for ages, then decided to go on a random spree and knock on everyone else's flat doors.
The night I had was insane. We didn't go anywhere, only to the Student Union, which is literally 30 seconds away, ordered a lot of JD and cokes, (bizarrely given as triples), and Jagerbombs in some wierd shaped glass, that was difficult to down, plus some shots of vodka that I will hopefully never do again, and I was well on my way. I spoke to so many people last night, (most of which said I looked like the creator of MySpace?), and the night was good. I think I've made a good amount of friends, and a perfect base to expand my university experience. Sorry, I didn't read that last sentence from a brochure.. Honest!
I'll leave you to it. Besides, I'm supposed to be socialising! All of you lot that wanted this blog to continue, have got your wish!
*As said before, "Occasional" may not be the literal meaning of the word. And to those who received any ridiculous phone calls last night... Expect some more! What am I like! (Camp voice optional)
I cannot put into words how nervous I was yesterday morning. I had had a dream, that Gordon Brown, Gok Wan and Mr.Blobby were my flatmates for the year. It was probably a nightmare, but being woken up by Mother Mitten was a happy thing, and the day had finally come. "Being nervous" doesn't cut the mustard in this particular situation, but I was never going to back out at that stage. I cannot imagine the regret that would fill the rest of my life if I backed out. And I'm not going to act like it didn't cross my mind. It did.
The journey here was frightful. I was couped up in the back with suitcases and bags, transporting my whole life to another location, 3 hours away. I felt sick, through the travelling and quite probably the nerves and it was quite generally a horrific journey. I was scared that 'being me' was not going to be good enough for my flatmates, and I would end up being secluded in my room, whilst everyone else was out making new friendships. The classic Mitten ritual of thinking up the worst possible situations was in full flow in the back of that car.
Upon parking in the Halls car-park however, it all seemed to vanish. This was going to happen, and woe betide me if I was going to panic and do naff-all. Everyone around me looked as nervous as I was, even if a couple of them were carrying in 32-inch plasma TV's. As I hauled everything into my room, of which I gained a first glance on entry, I completely calmed down. The nerves had almost gone, and I met the only other person who was here, Rachael, who is great, and then we went to get some lunch and some much-needed essentials. You all know what I mean when I say "essentials" right?
We went to Sainsbury's, which is a trek and a half into the town centre, and got in some food. And some beer. And maybe a bottle of vodka. And a bottle of Jack Daniels... Too much? Pah. Whatever. My parents then left me to it, leaving at about 3.30pm, (possibly the biggest anti-climax to an event, ever), and I went to talk to Rachael. There was no awkwardness there. We chatted for ages, then decided to go on a random spree and knock on everyone else's flat doors.
The night I had was insane. We didn't go anywhere, only to the Student Union, which is literally 30 seconds away, ordered a lot of JD and cokes, (bizarrely given as triples), and Jagerbombs in some wierd shaped glass, that was difficult to down, plus some shots of vodka that I will hopefully never do again, and I was well on my way. I spoke to so many people last night, (most of which said I looked like the creator of MySpace?), and the night was good. I think I've made a good amount of friends, and a perfect base to expand my university experience. Sorry, I didn't read that last sentence from a brochure.. Honest!
I'll leave you to it. Besides, I'm supposed to be socialising! All of you lot that wanted this blog to continue, have got your wish!
*As said before, "Occasional" may not be the literal meaning of the word. And to those who received any ridiculous phone calls last night... Expect some more! What am I like! (Camp voice optional)
Saturday 24 September 2011
The Day Has Come
8 months of waiting is finally over. 8 months of wanting this day to come more than anything I've ever wanted, ever. 8 months of waiting for the promised and rumoured brilliance of a university lifestyle. It's here. I have no more waiting to do. Tomorrow is it. It starts here.
In truth, I am terrified. Being nervous is natural, (as I have been told so many times today), but I'm not actually sure I've been so nervous in my life. I remember the times I've been very nervous. Before my first ever play performed at a professional theatre, my first ever cup final in adult football, the first ever match I refereed, the day of my GCSE results, (which ironically was never the case come A-Level time). All of these times have been so nerve-wracking that I've felt physically sick. This time is no different. But this time it's bigger. As Mother Mitten so rightly said earlier, "You're moving your whole life". I will have nothing to fall back on, no parents nearby to comfort me if something goes wrong, and in a place that I won't know my way around for a while.. It's all so daunting. So scary. So terrifying.
Packing took place earlier this evening, and it was only at this time it really hit me what I was doing. I stopped in my tracks a few times, just for a second, realising that tonight is the last time I will sleep in this hot, small bedroom at the back of the house, (for a few months at least). The steak and chips was the last meal I had cooked for me, (although that is not technically true, you know what I mean), and this is the last day I will officially live in the same house I've lived in my whole life. Tomorrow I am moving, for the first time ever. On my own.
I have spent the day thinking through what may happen. The people I may come across, and the events I will attend and the memories created that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I over-think things way too often, and this is very rarely a good thing. Most of it is negative, where the situation requires me to be relaxed and be myself. That is the one thing I am trying to urge myself to be. Myself. Don't go trying to impress the new people you meet by being someone you're not. I think I attacked Wednesday a bit too aggressively. I went to the Enrolment Day trying to be someone I wasn't, and because of it, I came out of it unsure of how it went. At least if I'm myself, I can expect nothing more or less than what I get in Bedford. I haven't got the best friendships a man could hope for, by being a general moron. And I hope similar friendships are built in the place they call 'The Sunshine Coast'..
I know it will take time. It won't come instantly, and the first few days are bound to be difficult, tricky and awkward. Everyone is in the same boat though, (another phrase I've heard a lot today), and I'm sure a few JD and cokes will make things a bit more sociable! But it still doesn't stop me being horribly nervous about the whole thing...
What's happened today? General housekeeping. The buying of final things that I had forgotten about, meeting up for a fantastic "goodbye lunch" with Kettle before packing my whole life into a suitcase and a few bags. All is complete, and everything is waiting downstairs, ready for the journey in the morning. The only complicated part is how to transport my bike to Eastbourne, and after failing to gain a bike rack to take it in, I think we have decided to go down the "dismantling of the bike" route. We considered taking the bike seperately, which involved another long and expensive train journey for me, or stealing one when I get down there, which I quickly dismissed as "a ridiculous idea".
It is now exactly midnight. I suppose it would be sensible to go to sleep. How much sleep I am going to get though is anyone's guess. I imagine a sleepless night ahead.
It's been a long, tiring, boring and nasty road, the last couple of years. To get to this point. And it's only just beginning. Tom "Mitten" Carr. University beckons.
In truth, I am terrified. Being nervous is natural, (as I have been told so many times today), but I'm not actually sure I've been so nervous in my life. I remember the times I've been very nervous. Before my first ever play performed at a professional theatre, my first ever cup final in adult football, the first ever match I refereed, the day of my GCSE results, (which ironically was never the case come A-Level time). All of these times have been so nerve-wracking that I've felt physically sick. This time is no different. But this time it's bigger. As Mother Mitten so rightly said earlier, "You're moving your whole life". I will have nothing to fall back on, no parents nearby to comfort me if something goes wrong, and in a place that I won't know my way around for a while.. It's all so daunting. So scary. So terrifying.
Packing took place earlier this evening, and it was only at this time it really hit me what I was doing. I stopped in my tracks a few times, just for a second, realising that tonight is the last time I will sleep in this hot, small bedroom at the back of the house, (for a few months at least). The steak and chips was the last meal I had cooked for me, (although that is not technically true, you know what I mean), and this is the last day I will officially live in the same house I've lived in my whole life. Tomorrow I am moving, for the first time ever. On my own.
I have spent the day thinking through what may happen. The people I may come across, and the events I will attend and the memories created that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I over-think things way too often, and this is very rarely a good thing. Most of it is negative, where the situation requires me to be relaxed and be myself. That is the one thing I am trying to urge myself to be. Myself. Don't go trying to impress the new people you meet by being someone you're not. I think I attacked Wednesday a bit too aggressively. I went to the Enrolment Day trying to be someone I wasn't, and because of it, I came out of it unsure of how it went. At least if I'm myself, I can expect nothing more or less than what I get in Bedford. I haven't got the best friendships a man could hope for, by being a general moron. And I hope similar friendships are built in the place they call 'The Sunshine Coast'..
I know it will take time. It won't come instantly, and the first few days are bound to be difficult, tricky and awkward. Everyone is in the same boat though, (another phrase I've heard a lot today), and I'm sure a few JD and cokes will make things a bit more sociable! But it still doesn't stop me being horribly nervous about the whole thing...
What's happened today? General housekeeping. The buying of final things that I had forgotten about, meeting up for a fantastic "goodbye lunch" with Kettle before packing my whole life into a suitcase and a few bags. All is complete, and everything is waiting downstairs, ready for the journey in the morning. The only complicated part is how to transport my bike to Eastbourne, and after failing to gain a bike rack to take it in, I think we have decided to go down the "dismantling of the bike" route. We considered taking the bike seperately, which involved another long and expensive train journey for me, or stealing one when I get down there, which I quickly dismissed as "a ridiculous idea".
It is now exactly midnight. I suppose it would be sensible to go to sleep. How much sleep I am going to get though is anyone's guess. I imagine a sleepless night ahead.
It's been a long, tiring, boring and nasty road, the last couple of years. To get to this point. And it's only just beginning. Tom "Mitten" Carr. University beckons.
Wednesday 21 September 2011
The Warm-Up Act
I am monumentally tired. So tired, that I feel physically sick and my head is forcing its way out the side of my head, despite the taking of Nurofen tablets. It's almost as bad as the long, sleepless weekends I put myself through last Summer and a couple of weekends this Summer, but not quite as bad.
The reason I am like this? I have had a very long, interesting and generally quite nerve-wracking day. 3 days before I leave for Eastbourne, yet I had to enrol at the college I am studying at. It seemed tedious that I had to dedicate a whole day to enrol on a course, when it would of been much easier to do it next week, but hey ho. I had been invited, and it would of been suicidal not to attend, so I hauled myself out of bed at the crazy hour of 5am, (some would say I should be used to this by now!), and caught the 5.40am train to Brighton.
You know what? I'm so tired, that I'm not going to bother to continue. I need sleep, desperately. This is going to be a long post, so I shall continue it when I've had my required 14 hours kip. Until tomorrow.
Ok. I'm fully awake, completely aware, and positively ready to explain the madness that yesterday brought. Sorry about my apparent eagerness to sleep last night, but I needed it.
Where was I? That's right. The journey. There's no point making this part of the story any longer than it needs to be, but in short, the train was delayed 20 minutes, making me rush and pay an extra £18.10 for a faster route to Eastbourne plus an extra £6 for a taxi to the college. Even then, I was 5 minutes late, but the embarrassing entrance into the introductory talk was lessened somewhat by the fact that many people seemed to be in the same position as me. So much so, that the actual introductory talk didn't start until 30 minutes later than scheduled. I sat down on the assembled benches, and attempted to start a conversation with the chap sat next to me, which didn't get very far. He didn't look interested at all, and looking around the room, the atmosphere resembled more of a doctors surgery waiting room than a University Enrolment Day. In fairness, I can possibly get away with saying that the awkward nature of both are very similar. I recognised a few faces, some that I had added on Facebook in an attempt to get to know them before we start, but most people just looked like they didn't want to be known.
After the very brief introductory speeches, we started the main activity of the day. "Team-Building Exercises" ran by a company called Adventure Unlimited. Now. Bearing in mind none of us had ever met each other before, and our group was being headed by a man who looked like the behind of a particularly ugly, (and uninterested) gorilla, the first half an hour or so was extremely painful. The generic "team-building exercises" we were being asked to do though, after a fair while, helped us communicate and get to know each other more, and by the end a few jokes were being cracked and things seemed a lot better. These exercises included getting all of the "team" through a spider's web without touching the web, getting across a makeshift and imaginary river using only 9 lillypads, (or pieces of carpet if you're a realist), and a lot of things that included being blindfolded, which gave me a painful and disorientating headache. At the end of the session, we were split into three groups, and taken to enrol, followed by a tour of the campus and much-needed lunch.
At this stage, I had gotten into a group of about 6 people. My initial evaluation of the group was that some people were outgoing, loud and ready to get to know people, and the other lot mainly kept themselves to themselves, not keen on keeping a conversation going for too long and were mainly pretty quiet. I wanted to get to know people, so talked to the outgoing group, who were ... I don't know how to describe it... "classic lads". They are the sort of people I wouldn't usually hang around with in Bedford, the sort of people who comment on every girl passing them as "f****** hot!" or "I would definitely smash her back doors in!" The sort of people who are incredibly homophobic and their only joys in life are sex, football and FIFA. They talk like they're wannabe gangsters, and boast about their holidays in Malia, where they slept with at least 6 girls a night and are going back next Summer to be a rep. They are the sort of people I would do my best to stay away from if I'm honest, but it was either them or stand on my own all day and be non-sociable, and I had told myself that I wouldn't be like that. There were a couple of potential friends, who were not like this, who were more .... human, (for want of a better word), but we shall wait and see what develops.
After lunch, the actual enrolment happened, a lot of forms were filled in and I received my student card and NUS Extra card, that apparently can save me £500 over the course of a year, if I "use it wisely", and more talking about FIFA and the nickname-giving began. For the rest of the day, I was merely known as "The Ref", for obvious reasons, with other nicknames including 'Cardle' for a Matt Cardle lookalike, Abou Diaby, for the same reason, and 'Pav' as one of them looked like a carbon copy of Spurs striker Roman Pavlyuchenko. I gathered from the rest that no-one liked a referee, (common knowledge), and 3 different people throughout the day stated that I even "looked like a referee".. Not sure how that is possible? It was all "banter" though and I took it on the chin.
After a few more talks, that dragged on, plus the giving of our first ever assignment, (that I have already completed, like the apparent "mature" student I am!), we got to go home. The long, and expensive journey home then started, and included arranging a lift to my first fixture as a referee for this season, (that commeces in a few hours time), and having to listen to the rambles of a group of medical students who talked as if everything in life was a life-saving operation.
I'm not quite sure what to make of the day as a whole. After seeing the two groups for the initial coaching that starts next week, I see I have been thrown in with the people I spent most of the day with. I don't see myself moulding into their stereotypical views though, and I think I'd need to get to know some other people to work with. More even-minded, less "laddish" people to work with. Of course, the main event begins in 2 days, where I find out which people I am living with, and move down to Eastbourne for good. I'm nervous, and excited in equal measure, but I have been assured that after things settle down, I will be absolutely fine.
I am officially a student now, and the next few months and then the succeeding 3 years are going to be huge. Things have changed in a heartbeat, and for once I'm ready to tackle them head on. Let's do it.
The reason I am like this? I have had a very long, interesting and generally quite nerve-wracking day. 3 days before I leave for Eastbourne, yet I had to enrol at the college I am studying at. It seemed tedious that I had to dedicate a whole day to enrol on a course, when it would of been much easier to do it next week, but hey ho. I had been invited, and it would of been suicidal not to attend, so I hauled myself out of bed at the crazy hour of 5am, (some would say I should be used to this by now!), and caught the 5.40am train to Brighton.
You know what? I'm so tired, that I'm not going to bother to continue. I need sleep, desperately. This is going to be a long post, so I shall continue it when I've had my required 14 hours kip. Until tomorrow.
Ok. I'm fully awake, completely aware, and positively ready to explain the madness that yesterday brought. Sorry about my apparent eagerness to sleep last night, but I needed it.
Where was I? That's right. The journey. There's no point making this part of the story any longer than it needs to be, but in short, the train was delayed 20 minutes, making me rush and pay an extra £18.10 for a faster route to Eastbourne plus an extra £6 for a taxi to the college. Even then, I was 5 minutes late, but the embarrassing entrance into the introductory talk was lessened somewhat by the fact that many people seemed to be in the same position as me. So much so, that the actual introductory talk didn't start until 30 minutes later than scheduled. I sat down on the assembled benches, and attempted to start a conversation with the chap sat next to me, which didn't get very far. He didn't look interested at all, and looking around the room, the atmosphere resembled more of a doctors surgery waiting room than a University Enrolment Day. In fairness, I can possibly get away with saying that the awkward nature of both are very similar. I recognised a few faces, some that I had added on Facebook in an attempt to get to know them before we start, but most people just looked like they didn't want to be known.
After the very brief introductory speeches, we started the main activity of the day. "Team-Building Exercises" ran by a company called Adventure Unlimited. Now. Bearing in mind none of us had ever met each other before, and our group was being headed by a man who looked like the behind of a particularly ugly, (and uninterested) gorilla, the first half an hour or so was extremely painful. The generic "team-building exercises" we were being asked to do though, after a fair while, helped us communicate and get to know each other more, and by the end a few jokes were being cracked and things seemed a lot better. These exercises included getting all of the "team" through a spider's web without touching the web, getting across a makeshift and imaginary river using only 9 lillypads, (or pieces of carpet if you're a realist), and a lot of things that included being blindfolded, which gave me a painful and disorientating headache. At the end of the session, we were split into three groups, and taken to enrol, followed by a tour of the campus and much-needed lunch.
At this stage, I had gotten into a group of about 6 people. My initial evaluation of the group was that some people were outgoing, loud and ready to get to know people, and the other lot mainly kept themselves to themselves, not keen on keeping a conversation going for too long and were mainly pretty quiet. I wanted to get to know people, so talked to the outgoing group, who were ... I don't know how to describe it... "classic lads". They are the sort of people I wouldn't usually hang around with in Bedford, the sort of people who comment on every girl passing them as "f****** hot!" or "I would definitely smash her back doors in!" The sort of people who are incredibly homophobic and their only joys in life are sex, football and FIFA. They talk like they're wannabe gangsters, and boast about their holidays in Malia, where they slept with at least 6 girls a night and are going back next Summer to be a rep. They are the sort of people I would do my best to stay away from if I'm honest, but it was either them or stand on my own all day and be non-sociable, and I had told myself that I wouldn't be like that. There were a couple of potential friends, who were not like this, who were more .... human, (for want of a better word), but we shall wait and see what develops.
After lunch, the actual enrolment happened, a lot of forms were filled in and I received my student card and NUS Extra card, that apparently can save me £500 over the course of a year, if I "use it wisely", and more talking about FIFA and the nickname-giving began. For the rest of the day, I was merely known as "The Ref", for obvious reasons, with other nicknames including 'Cardle' for a Matt Cardle lookalike, Abou Diaby, for the same reason, and 'Pav' as one of them looked like a carbon copy of Spurs striker Roman Pavlyuchenko. I gathered from the rest that no-one liked a referee, (common knowledge), and 3 different people throughout the day stated that I even "looked like a referee".. Not sure how that is possible? It was all "banter" though and I took it on the chin.
After a few more talks, that dragged on, plus the giving of our first ever assignment, (that I have already completed, like the apparent "mature" student I am!), we got to go home. The long, and expensive journey home then started, and included arranging a lift to my first fixture as a referee for this season, (that commeces in a few hours time), and having to listen to the rambles of a group of medical students who talked as if everything in life was a life-saving operation.
I'm not quite sure what to make of the day as a whole. After seeing the two groups for the initial coaching that starts next week, I see I have been thrown in with the people I spent most of the day with. I don't see myself moulding into their stereotypical views though, and I think I'd need to get to know some other people to work with. More even-minded, less "laddish" people to work with. Of course, the main event begins in 2 days, where I find out which people I am living with, and move down to Eastbourne for good. I'm nervous, and excited in equal measure, but I have been assured that after things settle down, I will be absolutely fine.
I am officially a student now, and the next few months and then the succeeding 3 years are going to be huge. Things have changed in a heartbeat, and for once I'm ready to tackle them head on. Let's do it.
Sunday 18 September 2011
One More Week(ish)
It hasn't quite sunk in yet. The fact I'm leaving in 6 days.
My room at the moment resembles a landfill site, with bags here and things there, but packing is only at the planning stage at the moment. Making sure I have everything I need before I trek off down the M25 towards the south of our great country. Whether we'll be able to fit everything I need into Father Mitten's new car, which is fairly minute on the inside, remains to be seen. On Wednesday, I have my "warm-up act" so to speak, as I begin my journey to the official Enrolment Day at 5:40am. The alarm will be set for 5am, which is the exact time I've been waking up all weekend, seeing as I'm not quite finished my set of shifts at the "Berp". This weekend has been pretty painful, waking up at ridiculous times, walking to work in the pitch black of darkness, avoiding late drunks, coming home from their nights out. Those two shifts, one of which started at 6am this very morning, were long, painful and phenomonal tests of patience. I didn't need to be there, but I suppose the money would come in handy.
Saturday morning was a pain in the backside. I turned up, at 5:50am, positively awake as I had woken up a good 3 hours previously due to my crazy sleeping patterns, but with the covering manager nowhere to be seen, it could of got potentially tricky. Luckily, nothing untoward happened before the manager, who had travelled from Clarendon, North London to join us, walked in at 8.30am without a care in the world. Him and his unknown pal then proceeded to do nothing except stand there texting on their iPhones and then completely tear the shift apart as they not once, but twice, charged the wrong person for the wrong fuel. It was chaotic, and I was glad to climb in the back seat of the new 3-door and go home. I was tired, but I had promised myself I was going to stay awake to go for a curry with The Hawkers, providing a last opportunity to see everyone before we go our seperate ways for a few months at least. To keep myself awake, I grabbed a can of Red Bull, (who used to sponsor me), and headed in the direction of Mowsbury Park to watch some football before running home to avoid the inevitable promised thunderstorm.
I'm glad to say I did make it to the curry in the end, and I was greeted by a bearded Mason and Lottie, who left for University today, before being joined by a particularly tanned Master Beddoe, Kettle and Billie and a curry was enjoyed by all amid the usual plethora of innuendo. Oh Beddoe... Despite Mason's attempted efforts to try and get me to join them on a night out, I returned home at 10pm and collapsed. I remember the last time I tried a night out before a shift that started at 6am, and I seem to remember I nearly died. I'm 20 now you know, I'm getting on a bit! My body cannot handle it! Some would argue that isn't the talk of a Fresher...
As soon as I conked out, the alarm went off and it was 5am. It felt like I had been asleep 2 minutes, but I hauled myself awake and went on my way again. Once more, I had to avoid a group of particularly loud and aggressive drunks, who shouted at me in a way that suggested I was about to be knifed, but I negotiated them with apparent ease. Sober beats drunk any day of the week you see. This morning's shift was horribly long. Very quiet, and when it isn't busy, you do the next best thing. And clockwatch. The worst possible thing.
Tomorrow is my last ever shift at BP. Wait... Where have I heard that before...?
My room at the moment resembles a landfill site, with bags here and things there, but packing is only at the planning stage at the moment. Making sure I have everything I need before I trek off down the M25 towards the south of our great country. Whether we'll be able to fit everything I need into Father Mitten's new car, which is fairly minute on the inside, remains to be seen. On Wednesday, I have my "warm-up act" so to speak, as I begin my journey to the official Enrolment Day at 5:40am. The alarm will be set for 5am, which is the exact time I've been waking up all weekend, seeing as I'm not quite finished my set of shifts at the "Berp". This weekend has been pretty painful, waking up at ridiculous times, walking to work in the pitch black of darkness, avoiding late drunks, coming home from their nights out. Those two shifts, one of which started at 6am this very morning, were long, painful and phenomonal tests of patience. I didn't need to be there, but I suppose the money would come in handy.
Saturday morning was a pain in the backside. I turned up, at 5:50am, positively awake as I had woken up a good 3 hours previously due to my crazy sleeping patterns, but with the covering manager nowhere to be seen, it could of got potentially tricky. Luckily, nothing untoward happened before the manager, who had travelled from Clarendon, North London to join us, walked in at 8.30am without a care in the world. Him and his unknown pal then proceeded to do nothing except stand there texting on their iPhones and then completely tear the shift apart as they not once, but twice, charged the wrong person for the wrong fuel. It was chaotic, and I was glad to climb in the back seat of the new 3-door and go home. I was tired, but I had promised myself I was going to stay awake to go for a curry with The Hawkers, providing a last opportunity to see everyone before we go our seperate ways for a few months at least. To keep myself awake, I grabbed a can of Red Bull, (who used to sponsor me), and headed in the direction of Mowsbury Park to watch some football before running home to avoid the inevitable promised thunderstorm.
I'm glad to say I did make it to the curry in the end, and I was greeted by a bearded Mason and Lottie, who left for University today, before being joined by a particularly tanned Master Beddoe, Kettle and Billie and a curry was enjoyed by all amid the usual plethora of innuendo. Oh Beddoe... Despite Mason's attempted efforts to try and get me to join them on a night out, I returned home at 10pm and collapsed. I remember the last time I tried a night out before a shift that started at 6am, and I seem to remember I nearly died. I'm 20 now you know, I'm getting on a bit! My body cannot handle it! Some would argue that isn't the talk of a Fresher...
As soon as I conked out, the alarm went off and it was 5am. It felt like I had been asleep 2 minutes, but I hauled myself awake and went on my way again. Once more, I had to avoid a group of particularly loud and aggressive drunks, who shouted at me in a way that suggested I was about to be knifed, but I negotiated them with apparent ease. Sober beats drunk any day of the week you see. This morning's shift was horribly long. Very quiet, and when it isn't busy, you do the next best thing. And clockwatch. The worst possible thing.
Tomorrow is my last ever shift at BP. Wait... Where have I heard that before...?
Friday 16 September 2011
The End of Summer 2011
Wednesday never happened in the way I intended it to. I did promise stories of a special meeting with the papers, but that never happened as it was replaced by other things. We'll leave that one there.
My countdown to university has been getting ever slower, as friends start to drift off to their new lives. Monsieur Field and Madam Ellie Goulding have both already gone to Swansea and Plymouth respectively, starting their Freshers weeks earlier than the rest of us. I believe Beddoe is going back to the biggest year of his life in Manchester as he will surely gain a 1st in his degree in Facebook Studies. No pressure though Beddoe! Kettle goes back to Coventry on the same day as me, (I think), to start the 2nd year of his degree in Pretending To Be Someone Who is Fictional. Watty goes back to Loughborough some time next week to finally reach the end of a degree, Billie goes back to the gun capital of the UK if she survives the Islamic fundamentalists that may well plague her flight back from Spain, while Colin decides whether he wants to join the RAF, go to University, (despite it being way too late), become a neurological scientist, or an author, or a semi-professional footballer while studying archeology? You never know with him.
Everyone's going their seperate ways, and even though I am involved this time, I can't help but feel a little sad. This time last year, I sank quickly into depression as I realised I would lose my friends once more to the lure of University banter, while I was stuck. This year, I am joining in the fun, and I am drifting between being on top of the world through excitement and not shitting bricks, but shitting whole houses instead. One day I am amazingly excited at the prospect of a new life, the next I am deathly nervous about what lies ahead and whether I will be able to cope with it all. On Tuesday, I was dangerously excited, albeit wasting away behind Till 2 of the "berp", but Danica, (the hyper, chatty Serbian one!), joined in with the excitement of it all. Her son is going to Nottingham, so she sort of knows what it's feeling like. On Wednesday though, after the failed plans, I was rather down and nervous about it all. And today I've been back to excited, so tomorrow won't be a good day if the pattern is to believed. And given it's now 04:34, and I have the alarm set for 10:00, I imagine I might be quite irritable aswell...
I'm not sure this Summer has been the best of the lot. It hasn't been great weather-wise, I've always seemed to be working when the Hawkers go out on the town, and I have missed a fair bit of activity, while wasting away in what is now considered Hell. Don't get me wrong, it's certainly had it's moments. The nights out at the beginning of the Summer, involving a lot of foam and water, the golf and cricket and the poker nights of late. It's certainly had it's moments, but there have been too many times that I have missed out on. I can't even remember the last time I went out on the town, and for once, that isn't because of excessive alcohol.
And now I'm 8 days away from leaving the house I've lived in for over 20 years. The small room at the back of the house, where I have hidden away, had some of my darkest days in, yet enjoyed many times in. 8 days away from the complete independance I once dreamed of, and despite being excited of what lies ahead, I am so, so nervous of failing. If I fail, I won't know where to go. I dread to think what I will do if I don't succeed and complete this adventure. It is that, I am most nervous about. Some, if not most, would say, "Make sure you don't fail then", or, "You won't fail!", but it's easier said than done with me. You all know that.
My countdown to university has been getting ever slower, as friends start to drift off to their new lives. Monsieur Field and Madam Ellie Goulding have both already gone to Swansea and Plymouth respectively, starting their Freshers weeks earlier than the rest of us. I believe Beddoe is going back to the biggest year of his life in Manchester as he will surely gain a 1st in his degree in Facebook Studies. No pressure though Beddoe! Kettle goes back to Coventry on the same day as me, (I think), to start the 2nd year of his degree in Pretending To Be Someone Who is Fictional. Watty goes back to Loughborough some time next week to finally reach the end of a degree, Billie goes back to the gun capital of the UK if she survives the Islamic fundamentalists that may well plague her flight back from Spain, while Colin decides whether he wants to join the RAF, go to University, (despite it being way too late), become a neurological scientist, or an author, or a semi-professional footballer while studying archeology? You never know with him.
Everyone's going their seperate ways, and even though I am involved this time, I can't help but feel a little sad. This time last year, I sank quickly into depression as I realised I would lose my friends once more to the lure of University banter, while I was stuck. This year, I am joining in the fun, and I am drifting between being on top of the world through excitement and not shitting bricks, but shitting whole houses instead. One day I am amazingly excited at the prospect of a new life, the next I am deathly nervous about what lies ahead and whether I will be able to cope with it all. On Tuesday, I was dangerously excited, albeit wasting away behind Till 2 of the "berp", but Danica, (the hyper, chatty Serbian one!), joined in with the excitement of it all. Her son is going to Nottingham, so she sort of knows what it's feeling like. On Wednesday though, after the failed plans, I was rather down and nervous about it all. And today I've been back to excited, so tomorrow won't be a good day if the pattern is to believed. And given it's now 04:34, and I have the alarm set for 10:00, I imagine I might be quite irritable aswell...
I'm not sure this Summer has been the best of the lot. It hasn't been great weather-wise, I've always seemed to be working when the Hawkers go out on the town, and I have missed a fair bit of activity, while wasting away in what is now considered Hell. Don't get me wrong, it's certainly had it's moments. The nights out at the beginning of the Summer, involving a lot of foam and water, the golf and cricket and the poker nights of late. It's certainly had it's moments, but there have been too many times that I have missed out on. I can't even remember the last time I went out on the town, and for once, that isn't because of excessive alcohol.
And now I'm 8 days away from leaving the house I've lived in for over 20 years. The small room at the back of the house, where I have hidden away, had some of my darkest days in, yet enjoyed many times in. 8 days away from the complete independance I once dreamed of, and despite being excited of what lies ahead, I am so, so nervous of failing. If I fail, I won't know where to go. I dread to think what I will do if I don't succeed and complete this adventure. It is that, I am most nervous about. Some, if not most, would say, "Make sure you don't fail then", or, "You won't fail!", but it's easier said than done with me. You all know that.
Wednesday 14 September 2011
Big Wigs in Hi Vi's
The pressure was supposed to be on today at the "berp". A few weeks of supposed hard graft and vigorous cleaning and tidying, around serving the not so mountaneous amount of customers that come through the doors these days. The duty managers, (apart from Cool Will of course, who doesn't give a damn, remember?), have been on an extra vigilant watch to see if everyone is doing there jobs properly, almost to unbelievable proportions when it comes to The Goddess of All Evil, who had a fit when she found out the young lad I worked with on Sunday night hadn't done a thing. He was from another store, why should he care?
Anyway. There must be a reason why the managers have, all of a sudden, taken an interest in their jobs, and you'd be right. There was. Today, between 1pm and 3pm, we were to be visited by no more and no less than 44 potential investors who were looking to buy the site. No jobs were being affected, nothing physical was changing to the site, just fat cats wanting to expand their collection with a petrol forecourt. "Nothing out of the ordinary" apparently. For 3 weeks solid, staff who were on shift had been cleaning under displays, cleaning under tills, cleaning mars bars, cleaning chillers, cleaning wine covers, cleaning cracks in the walls, cleaning customer's faces... The place was sparkling like a palace made of crystal. I arrived at work, half an hour early, as I had wanted to discuss the possibility, (or if you look at it from my point of the view, the certainty) of the fact that I couldn't work the Tuesday night shift next week, (more on that later), but when I got there, I was greeted by no duty manager, but an RTM, (Retail Territory Manager), who was awaiting the party of investors. Sesiri Jayasena his name is, (no, not Sanath Jayasuriya, the famous Sri Lankan batsman), and he nodded in my direction with the air of a man that means business. He is a nasty piece of work though. I have only met him twice, and once, he had a go at me for standing behind a till when I could of been, "doing something productive" and the 2nd time, he completely blanked me as I greeted him. As he nodded in my direction today, my mind flashed back to that moment, but thought today wasn't the time to repay karma, and acknowledged his greeting with a simple, "Hello".
10 minutes in to my long 8-hour afternoon shift, a HUGE coach pulled up outside the station. This could only be one thing. As I looked outside, a procession of people, wearing Hi-Vi's filed off the coach. One... Two...Three...Four....Five.... That's it. No more than 5. We had been promised 22 in this first party, but only 5 had been bothered to turn up, and after they wandered around the store for a few minutes, with one dopey looking lady taking a couple of photographs, which had not been sanctioned, they filed back on to their coach again. All the cleaning, the preperation, the berating of managers on staff, and for what? For some bald men and a woman who looked disgusted at the very thought of wearing a yellow-coloured jacket to come and have a nosey round the fresh bread. How stupid.
Exactly one hour later, the exact same thing happened. A huge coach, with only 6 people on it, pulled in and dropped off a group of bored looking middle-aged morons, one of which came to my till and demanded he be given the winning EuroMillions ticket, into the store. They did nothing but stand by the door and speak to the RTM. After that, (they hadn't even looked round for 2 minutes), they were back on the coach. What a waste of time, and preperation, and as the final coach pulled away, I got ready to settle down on Till 2 and work my way through customer after customer, with the only consolation being that I was able to offer EuroMillions tickets with a £139million jackpot, which was sort of fun.. But I was glad to be going home at 10pm.
Before any of this happened though, I received a letter in the post. It outlined the schedule for the upcoming Enrolment Day for University, (Weds 21st September), and it said I needed to be at the college for 9.20am.. Ah. I knew already that I had been given the Tuesday night shift, so some serious negotiating or fighting needed to be done to get me off that! I had looked at train times already, and the latest one I can possibly get is 5:58am, 2 minutes before the end of a usual night shift. Oh well. University is much, much more important than the "berp" these days, so the management will have to either like it or lump it. I have warned them that I will not be coming in that night, and whether they choose to find cover or not, is none of my business. I shall be gone, forever!*
Now the time is 02:26, and I actually have a busy(ish) day tomorrow, (or today, depending on how you look at it!) I promised Kettle I would do a bit of a nostalgia trip with him, and have lunch with him at "Pinnnerrrrrssssss", before he shoots off to work, before I jet off into town for what will be an intriguing meeting with the Beds on Sunday. Now. I won't explain why I'm having a meeting with the Beds on Sunday, as I may ruin a surprise, but I can assure you it isn't a job interview and that I am not in any sort of trouble. A couple of you know what it's about, but most of you don't. I will probably update you tomorrow on that. All this before another poker night at Magic Man's, with usually a lot of fun and laughs along the way!
Have I left that on a bit of a cliffhanger? Ah well! Until tomorrow then!
*Yes I know. Admittedly, I said I had left "forever" last time, and I will probably be the first to agree, that I will no doubt end up back in that store throughout the time I'm at home in the "in-betweeny" bits of University. I could do with the money though, right?
Anyway. There must be a reason why the managers have, all of a sudden, taken an interest in their jobs, and you'd be right. There was. Today, between 1pm and 3pm, we were to be visited by no more and no less than 44 potential investors who were looking to buy the site. No jobs were being affected, nothing physical was changing to the site, just fat cats wanting to expand their collection with a petrol forecourt. "Nothing out of the ordinary" apparently. For 3 weeks solid, staff who were on shift had been cleaning under displays, cleaning under tills, cleaning mars bars, cleaning chillers, cleaning wine covers, cleaning cracks in the walls, cleaning customer's faces... The place was sparkling like a palace made of crystal. I arrived at work, half an hour early, as I had wanted to discuss the possibility, (or if you look at it from my point of the view, the certainty) of the fact that I couldn't work the Tuesday night shift next week, (more on that later), but when I got there, I was greeted by no duty manager, but an RTM, (Retail Territory Manager), who was awaiting the party of investors. Sesiri Jayasena his name is, (no, not Sanath Jayasuriya, the famous Sri Lankan batsman), and he nodded in my direction with the air of a man that means business. He is a nasty piece of work though. I have only met him twice, and once, he had a go at me for standing behind a till when I could of been, "doing something productive" and the 2nd time, he completely blanked me as I greeted him. As he nodded in my direction today, my mind flashed back to that moment, but thought today wasn't the time to repay karma, and acknowledged his greeting with a simple, "Hello".
10 minutes in to my long 8-hour afternoon shift, a HUGE coach pulled up outside the station. This could only be one thing. As I looked outside, a procession of people, wearing Hi-Vi's filed off the coach. One... Two...Three...Four....Five.... That's it. No more than 5. We had been promised 22 in this first party, but only 5 had been bothered to turn up, and after they wandered around the store for a few minutes, with one dopey looking lady taking a couple of photographs, which had not been sanctioned, they filed back on to their coach again. All the cleaning, the preperation, the berating of managers on staff, and for what? For some bald men and a woman who looked disgusted at the very thought of wearing a yellow-coloured jacket to come and have a nosey round the fresh bread. How stupid.
Exactly one hour later, the exact same thing happened. A huge coach, with only 6 people on it, pulled in and dropped off a group of bored looking middle-aged morons, one of which came to my till and demanded he be given the winning EuroMillions ticket, into the store. They did nothing but stand by the door and speak to the RTM. After that, (they hadn't even looked round for 2 minutes), they were back on the coach. What a waste of time, and preperation, and as the final coach pulled away, I got ready to settle down on Till 2 and work my way through customer after customer, with the only consolation being that I was able to offer EuroMillions tickets with a £139million jackpot, which was sort of fun.. But I was glad to be going home at 10pm.
Before any of this happened though, I received a letter in the post. It outlined the schedule for the upcoming Enrolment Day for University, (Weds 21st September), and it said I needed to be at the college for 9.20am.. Ah. I knew already that I had been given the Tuesday night shift, so some serious negotiating or fighting needed to be done to get me off that! I had looked at train times already, and the latest one I can possibly get is 5:58am, 2 minutes before the end of a usual night shift. Oh well. University is much, much more important than the "berp" these days, so the management will have to either like it or lump it. I have warned them that I will not be coming in that night, and whether they choose to find cover or not, is none of my business. I shall be gone, forever!*
Now the time is 02:26, and I actually have a busy(ish) day tomorrow, (or today, depending on how you look at it!) I promised Kettle I would do a bit of a nostalgia trip with him, and have lunch with him at "Pinnnerrrrrssssss", before he shoots off to work, before I jet off into town for what will be an intriguing meeting with the Beds on Sunday. Now. I won't explain why I'm having a meeting with the Beds on Sunday, as I may ruin a surprise, but I can assure you it isn't a job interview and that I am not in any sort of trouble. A couple of you know what it's about, but most of you don't. I will probably update you tomorrow on that. All this before another poker night at Magic Man's, with usually a lot of fun and laughs along the way!
Have I left that on a bit of a cliffhanger? Ah well! Until tomorrow then!
*Yes I know. Admittedly, I said I had left "forever" last time, and I will probably be the first to agree, that I will no doubt end up back in that store throughout the time I'm at home in the "in-betweeny" bits of University. I could do with the money though, right?
Saturday 10 September 2011
Final Stretch
I have 11 more days before I finally leave BP, (for the second time), and embark on my new journey and the anticipation is becoming too much. My excitement is so much that I may have let out a little scream at 3am this morning, my nervousness has resulted in me daydreaming about drowning in the Channel and the whole situation, after 8 months in the waiting, has nearly exploded into an epiphony of Jack Daniels and vomit. Ladies and Gentleman, I am so close, yet so far.
The imaginary little calendar and accomponying little red pen has crossed off another day, but before I reach the promised mark of Saturday 24th September, (exactly 2 weeks away), I must negotiate 3 more night shifts, a weekend of outrageously early starts, that may include suicidal drinking in between, and a fair few long afternoons and, as you can probably work out, I am not looking forward to it. I officially leave in 11 days and I have only 2 of those days completely off work, so I will not have a lot of time to dwindle on the future. I suppose the more money I take to Brighton, and to probably give to various bars and clubs there, the better.
Tonight was the start of another working week, and cycling to work at 9.30pm wasn't the best of experiences. I was in a vicious mood, a couple of drivers pressed the middle of their steering wheel, meaning that a loud horn-like noise was made, as they seemed angry at the fact I couldn't be seen, despite having a massive flashing light on my bike, and generally, it was horrible. Things didn't improve as I got to work, as I was asked to clean something that was genuinely impossible to clean, a man tried to pay for £60's worth of fuel with a Polish bank card and another pair of Europeans attempted to buy a barrels worth of Budweiser accompanied by vodka, despite barely having the ability to walk because of intoxication. I think it was safe to say they had had their share of alcohol for one night, and given there was Police standing behind them, I wasn't going to risk getting fined by making their night more enjoyable.
Things didn't get better, as my colleague decided to get into a very heated argument with a taxi driver about the amount of time he took to get his fuel. Apparently, the taxi driver had sat in his taxi forever, leaving my colleague in limbo with authorising the fuel, and as soon as my colleague decided he wasn't going to, the taxi driver decided he was going to, and ended up waiting forever. He came in, and told him calmly that he had waited a long time, but my colleague got annoyed with him. It was all a bit silly, and I had to come off my break to calm the two parties down, using skills probably gained in the refereeing department to defuse the situation. It was a bit awkward though, and they left it on bad terms. This, including the fact I won f-all on the EuroMillions once again, meant it was generally a pretty rough night. And of course, to cap it all off, The Goddess of All Evil came in, at 5.25am, and started criticising. Just shut up woman.
Funnily enough, another manager came in also, which was strange as he doesn't live anywhere near Bedford, but he claimed he "needed to do important work". It had nothing to do with the fact he's seeing off one of the cashiers and had given her a lift to work... Of course it didn't... *wink wink*
I hope tonight goes better. But seeing as it's a Saturday night, chances are it won't. I'll be missing out on general Saturday night madness, while I serve drunks with their customary 20 Mayfair, as they complain that £6.54 is too much for cigarettes, with me thinking that they should just give up if it's all too much for them.
Same old story, but in 2 weeks, my own liver won't know what's hit it. And my liver is usually pretty prepared.
The imaginary little calendar and accomponying little red pen has crossed off another day, but before I reach the promised mark of Saturday 24th September, (exactly 2 weeks away), I must negotiate 3 more night shifts, a weekend of outrageously early starts, that may include suicidal drinking in between, and a fair few long afternoons and, as you can probably work out, I am not looking forward to it. I officially leave in 11 days and I have only 2 of those days completely off work, so I will not have a lot of time to dwindle on the future. I suppose the more money I take to Brighton, and to probably give to various bars and clubs there, the better.
Tonight was the start of another working week, and cycling to work at 9.30pm wasn't the best of experiences. I was in a vicious mood, a couple of drivers pressed the middle of their steering wheel, meaning that a loud horn-like noise was made, as they seemed angry at the fact I couldn't be seen, despite having a massive flashing light on my bike, and generally, it was horrible. Things didn't improve as I got to work, as I was asked to clean something that was genuinely impossible to clean, a man tried to pay for £60's worth of fuel with a Polish bank card and another pair of Europeans attempted to buy a barrels worth of Budweiser accompanied by vodka, despite barely having the ability to walk because of intoxication. I think it was safe to say they had had their share of alcohol for one night, and given there was Police standing behind them, I wasn't going to risk getting fined by making their night more enjoyable.
Things didn't get better, as my colleague decided to get into a very heated argument with a taxi driver about the amount of time he took to get his fuel. Apparently, the taxi driver had sat in his taxi forever, leaving my colleague in limbo with authorising the fuel, and as soon as my colleague decided he wasn't going to, the taxi driver decided he was going to, and ended up waiting forever. He came in, and told him calmly that he had waited a long time, but my colleague got annoyed with him. It was all a bit silly, and I had to come off my break to calm the two parties down, using skills probably gained in the refereeing department to defuse the situation. It was a bit awkward though, and they left it on bad terms. This, including the fact I won f-all on the EuroMillions once again, meant it was generally a pretty rough night. And of course, to cap it all off, The Goddess of All Evil came in, at 5.25am, and started criticising. Just shut up woman.
Funnily enough, another manager came in also, which was strange as he doesn't live anywhere near Bedford, but he claimed he "needed to do important work". It had nothing to do with the fact he's seeing off one of the cashiers and had given her a lift to work... Of course it didn't... *wink wink*
I hope tonight goes better. But seeing as it's a Saturday night, chances are it won't. I'll be missing out on general Saturday night madness, while I serve drunks with their customary 20 Mayfair, as they complain that £6.54 is too much for cigarettes, with me thinking that they should just give up if it's all too much for them.
Same old story, but in 2 weeks, my own liver won't know what's hit it. And my liver is usually pretty prepared.
Thursday 8 September 2011
The Mark Rutherford Days
Tonight has been a good night. Plan A of going out into town for a midweek night of what may have been madness, was shelved in favour of a 2nd poker night in 3 days, and I have to say, I think we made the right choice. The choice between winning your own height in VK or winning on a King High Full House, and by the end of the night, it was clear we had gone down the right road, despite a brief thought that we could fit in both.
I won the poker. I made hard work of it, but through a mixture of getting the right cards and maybe a bit of skill of knowing when to fold and when to bet high, I eventually beat Adam and the novice, Lucy, into submission, after the other remaining players had been knocked out with relative ease. It does sound like a boxing bout now. It wasn't. It was after the game of poker however, where the craziness of the night really revealed itself, as the remeniscing began about our days at Mark Rutherford Upper School.
I had a feeling I would feel a little left out, as all of the players sat round that table are in the same year, a year below me, but the stories they told were amazing. All from Fallis' Christmas Records Special CD that was created in a particularly interesting IT lesson, to Mr.Woodhouse dropping a particularly expensive piece of science equipment after warning the whole class not to drop the particularly expensive science equipment. Apparently the look on his face was priceless.
There were many, many more, but I did contribute with stories of my own, which were greeted with many a laugh from my fellow playing partners. And seeing as I'm typing, I may aswell tell you a few!
My favourite, without a doubt, was the Larkin Remix. Mr.Larkin was our IT teacher in Years 9 to 11, and he was marginally the best teacher I've ever had, followed not long after by Mr.Nicholls. Mr. (Raymond) Larkin used to come out with some cracking phrases, in his strong Irish accent, and all of these were first emalgimated into a 'Larkin Dictionary' by myself, before a few of these phrases, caught on camera by a lad called Will, was remixed into a rhythmic and mesmorizing song. This "remix" was then switched on halfway through your bog-standard IT lesson, with no prior warning, to the howling laughter of the class and genuine shock of Larkin. He was that good a teacher, and a man, to laugh along with the rest of us and put it down to "interesting use of software". Another phrase, that along with "Macromedia Glue Flash" and "Ipipi", went into the dictionary!
Another story, again in the humming of the IT rooms, was a couple of years later, in the same classroom none the less, with a chap called Peter Clough and a supply teacher with an uncanny resemblence to Denise, who used to be, (or still is), in EastEnders. We were doing PowerPoint presentations on devices, and this teacher was clueless. How she had qualified as a teacher, I don't know, but after everyone had completed their presentations, Peter stood up and requested to present another piece about the development of the iPod. The teacher, Ms. Yinka, with genuine surprise that a student had put in extra work written across her face, obviously gave the go-ahead and sat down to enjoy what was going to be, in her eyes, an excellent piece of work. What she didn't know, and we all did, was that this presentation was COMPLETELY BLANK. Nothing on the screen at all, and as Peter went through his pre-prepared speech on the rise of the iPod, with all of us nodding in agreement, trying desperately not to laugh, Ms. Yinka, who must have thought she had lost it, decided to go along with it, and even said something along the lines of, "So that picture on the screen right now is a... 3rd generation?" It. Was. Too. Funny. I swear I broke a rib that day...
There are so many other little stories, including histories' Mr. Jardine disappearing out of the room, and returning wearing a metal hat, claiming to be Ned from the 1st World War. Mr. Masango, another supply teacher from IT, promising the whole class that he would take us on a field trip to Kenya and the many times we decided that it was indeed possible to get to Tesco's and back in the 15 minutes break we had before Ms.Samosa's IT lessons, and every time, failing, and walking into the Scouse shouting that burnt our ears, as we dragged our Tesco bags along the floor. Plus the Citizen teacher who was constantly pregnant, and her substitute, who was 3 foot tall, Mr Navarro's inability to speak English, the convicted peadophile that was Mr. Mushtaq, who allegedly didn't turn up to his first court appearance because, "His mother didn't give him the letter telling him of the date", the high Mr.Gowing's art room that smelt constantly of cannabis and the incredibly boring Fabio Capello lookalike, Mr.Burke, shouting at Sam McConville and telling him to "fuck off!", with the video appearing on YouTube that afternoon... So many memories, from a place that looks more like a prison from the outside than a school.
It was severely disappointing then, to hear what the school has become these days. A whole 3 years after I left, the Headteacher, Mr.Peacey is now 'Principal', (a ridiculous Americanism), with the square-jawed Mr.Millard now 'Head of School' and Ms.Samosa, despite being a terrible teacher, now 'Deputy Head'. Mr Nicholls, once the famed and absolutely incredible Head of 6th Form, is now a lowly Year 7 History teacher, being replaced by Mr.Morgan, (who was apparently "cool", but I wouldn't know, as I thought Geography was one of the worst subjects on the curriculum). Mr.Nicholls, apparently, suffered a double demotion from his job as 6th Form Head, because of his outspoken views on the new 6th form rules, which include banning jeans and any sort of writing on tops, which, in short, means you now have to wear a suit, (jacket optional). They seem to have banned any sort of social outing that includes drinking and being involved in what 50 year olds would call "anti-social behaviour", or any fun at all in that school, and seem to aiming more for the "private school" look, despite having the appearance of a state-run care home or a run down prison. It's really sad...
Long gone are the days of banter, in the 6th form common room or a Politics classroom, between the dry humour of Nicholls and the challenge of a student who tried, and most probably failed, to outwit him. Long gone are the days of final day pranks, (such as covering Nicholls' car in post-it notes), and long gone are the days of fun that I never really appreciated in that school. Just talking about memories and reminiscing about outrageous times spent in the parameters of the 4 walls of Mark Rutherford Upper School, and now it has been turned into a crap-looking, very poor excuse of a state school trying to be a private school by public sector workers who think they know better.
I won the poker. I made hard work of it, but through a mixture of getting the right cards and maybe a bit of skill of knowing when to fold and when to bet high, I eventually beat Adam and the novice, Lucy, into submission, after the other remaining players had been knocked out with relative ease. It does sound like a boxing bout now. It wasn't. It was after the game of poker however, where the craziness of the night really revealed itself, as the remeniscing began about our days at Mark Rutherford Upper School.
I had a feeling I would feel a little left out, as all of the players sat round that table are in the same year, a year below me, but the stories they told were amazing. All from Fallis' Christmas Records Special CD that was created in a particularly interesting IT lesson, to Mr.Woodhouse dropping a particularly expensive piece of science equipment after warning the whole class not to drop the particularly expensive science equipment. Apparently the look on his face was priceless.
There were many, many more, but I did contribute with stories of my own, which were greeted with many a laugh from my fellow playing partners. And seeing as I'm typing, I may aswell tell you a few!
My favourite, without a doubt, was the Larkin Remix. Mr.Larkin was our IT teacher in Years 9 to 11, and he was marginally the best teacher I've ever had, followed not long after by Mr.Nicholls. Mr. (Raymond) Larkin used to come out with some cracking phrases, in his strong Irish accent, and all of these were first emalgimated into a 'Larkin Dictionary' by myself, before a few of these phrases, caught on camera by a lad called Will, was remixed into a rhythmic and mesmorizing song. This "remix" was then switched on halfway through your bog-standard IT lesson, with no prior warning, to the howling laughter of the class and genuine shock of Larkin. He was that good a teacher, and a man, to laugh along with the rest of us and put it down to "interesting use of software". Another phrase, that along with "Macromedia Glue Flash" and "Ipipi", went into the dictionary!
Another story, again in the humming of the IT rooms, was a couple of years later, in the same classroom none the less, with a chap called Peter Clough and a supply teacher with an uncanny resemblence to Denise, who used to be, (or still is), in EastEnders. We were doing PowerPoint presentations on devices, and this teacher was clueless. How she had qualified as a teacher, I don't know, but after everyone had completed their presentations, Peter stood up and requested to present another piece about the development of the iPod. The teacher, Ms. Yinka, with genuine surprise that a student had put in extra work written across her face, obviously gave the go-ahead and sat down to enjoy what was going to be, in her eyes, an excellent piece of work. What she didn't know, and we all did, was that this presentation was COMPLETELY BLANK. Nothing on the screen at all, and as Peter went through his pre-prepared speech on the rise of the iPod, with all of us nodding in agreement, trying desperately not to laugh, Ms. Yinka, who must have thought she had lost it, decided to go along with it, and even said something along the lines of, "So that picture on the screen right now is a... 3rd generation?" It. Was. Too. Funny. I swear I broke a rib that day...
There are so many other little stories, including histories' Mr. Jardine disappearing out of the room, and returning wearing a metal hat, claiming to be Ned from the 1st World War. Mr. Masango, another supply teacher from IT, promising the whole class that he would take us on a field trip to Kenya and the many times we decided that it was indeed possible to get to Tesco's and back in the 15 minutes break we had before Ms.Samosa's IT lessons, and every time, failing, and walking into the Scouse shouting that burnt our ears, as we dragged our Tesco bags along the floor. Plus the Citizen teacher who was constantly pregnant, and her substitute, who was 3 foot tall, Mr Navarro's inability to speak English, the convicted peadophile that was Mr. Mushtaq, who allegedly didn't turn up to his first court appearance because, "His mother didn't give him the letter telling him of the date", the high Mr.Gowing's art room that smelt constantly of cannabis and the incredibly boring Fabio Capello lookalike, Mr.Burke, shouting at Sam McConville and telling him to "fuck off!", with the video appearing on YouTube that afternoon... So many memories, from a place that looks more like a prison from the outside than a school.
It was severely disappointing then, to hear what the school has become these days. A whole 3 years after I left, the Headteacher, Mr.Peacey is now 'Principal', (a ridiculous Americanism), with the square-jawed Mr.Millard now 'Head of School' and Ms.Samosa, despite being a terrible teacher, now 'Deputy Head'. Mr Nicholls, once the famed and absolutely incredible Head of 6th Form, is now a lowly Year 7 History teacher, being replaced by Mr.Morgan, (who was apparently "cool", but I wouldn't know, as I thought Geography was one of the worst subjects on the curriculum). Mr.Nicholls, apparently, suffered a double demotion from his job as 6th Form Head, because of his outspoken views on the new 6th form rules, which include banning jeans and any sort of writing on tops, which, in short, means you now have to wear a suit, (jacket optional). They seem to have banned any sort of social outing that includes drinking and being involved in what 50 year olds would call "anti-social behaviour", or any fun at all in that school, and seem to aiming more for the "private school" look, despite having the appearance of a state-run care home or a run down prison. It's really sad...
Long gone are the days of banter, in the 6th form common room or a Politics classroom, between the dry humour of Nicholls and the challenge of a student who tried, and most probably failed, to outwit him. Long gone are the days of final day pranks, (such as covering Nicholls' car in post-it notes), and long gone are the days of fun that I never really appreciated in that school. Just talking about memories and reminiscing about outrageous times spent in the parameters of the 4 walls of Mark Rutherford Upper School, and now it has been turned into a crap-looking, very poor excuse of a state school trying to be a private school by public sector workers who think they know better.
Wednesday 7 September 2011
Customer Complaints
I've worked in retail, (on and off, obviously), for around 18 months now and I have come across some fairly stupid customer complaints since I started out in the world of customer service. Some of them have been understandable, such as the unfortunate time the BP toilet exploded and leaked on to a waiting customer's foot or the time a customer complained about The Wall's ridiculous fits. At the time, I was pleased that customer complained about him, but that is the only time I remember a customer complaint being a good experience.
This afternoon was just plain stupid. I was experiencing a rare PM shift at the "berp", and I was sure it was going to be a long 8 hours. It was, but it was made slightly quicker by the insane, tedious and downright silly complaints that some people came up with. The first one came not very long into our shift, so everyone was still a bit grumpy and generally not looking forward to the same humdrum of the afternoon, when a woman came in, came to my till, and asked for a £1 discount, because the fuel had splashed her BMW after she took it out of her car. Now, really? She continued to the point where my manager had to go outside and look at the problem, (of which there wasn't), and the customer came back in, without mentioning the incident, and glared at me like an opening bowler who had delivered a vicious bouncer that the batsman had just avoided, before leaving in a huff. Why she expected me just to say, "Oh ok then, you can have a measly £1 off, because a green-coloured liquid splashed your car because you didn't let go of the trigger", I don't know. Stupid. Is it called a 'trigger' when it comes to filling up with petrol?
The 2nd incident was arguably even more comical. Just before I went on my break, at about 5.30pm, arguably the busiest time of the day, another woman came in, (noticing a pattern here?) and bought some salad noodle dish thing. I thought nothing of it, took her money and moved on to the next customer. Nothing special, let's get this over and done with. Only 5 minutes later, she strolled back in, jumped the sizeable queue entirely, to the disgruntlement of many people, and came up to my till and demanded to know why it was empty. Now. I can assure you, when she bought it, it was full to the rafters, so I can only assume she had gone back to her car, eaten the contents, and then decided that I would have not noticed that it was empty upon selling her it. How stupid do these people think we are? She stood at the till for a whole 10 minutes, while the clearly angry queue dispersed behind her, and she went through my answers and my duty manager's answers before she refused to move along until she saw the Store Manager, who had gone home, many many miles away. Clearly this was going to be a troublesome situation unless someone spoke up, so I said, I was certain that I had sold her the product in a perfectly good condition, before she stood down. But she did mention that she would be back when the Legend Alex, the store manager, was in town. Quite frankly, I am looking forward to what she comes with.
That 2nd woman does it all the time apparently. She comes in, at the busiest time of day, and tries to fool the staff into thinking they sold her something empty. She seems to think that everyone there is lacking in the lighthouse department, when really, it is her who is the one without a working brain cell. Now I know the reason why my Duty Manager ran off the tills as she saw her in the queue, leaving me, blissfully unaware, to serve her and subsequently deal with the daft consequences. The reactions of the people in the queue were fantastic, and understandable, also, with one man claiming, "Some of us have things to do aswell you know!" with another, a white van man, simply shouting, "Hurry the f*** up woman!". I would of nodded in agreement, if I wasn't dealing with a woman with a mind of a coconut and eyes that resembled Lord Voldermort.
I was pleased for 10pm to come around, despite the ridiculousness of the afternoon providing a laugh or two at the end of the shift, once the complainers had long gone. It's just incredible that some people can think they can get away with the most outrageous of lies, without us clocking on to what they are doing. The amount of paperwork to be completed after these stupid "official complaints" were made also, is mind-boggling. Such a waste of time, for people who are essentially, time wasting. It really does seem the Social Group of Official Complainers were out in full force this afternoon, and they converged on BP. When I was on shift.
Typical.
In other news, I was greeted by Sister Mitten yesterday, as she told me there were "presents waiting downstairs for me". I thought for a second, but despite the adverts and promotions starting ALREADY for Christmas, it is still a long way away and my birthday set solidly in the middle of May, I struggled to think of any reason why they had bought me "presents". Upon entering the kitchen however, I soon realised, as I saw the Beales and Wilkinsons bags sitting on the table, that these so-called "presents" were not going to be exciting. Sure enough, despite the collection of tumblers, pillowcases and tea-towels and the like, sporting interesting patterns, they were not very exciting. Useful? Yes. Exciting? Not really. The start of my university experience draws ever closer though, and I am starting to think about it daily now. Everything is happening ladies and gentlemen. Everything is happening.
I just hope I don't get landed with complainers in Halls, otherwise they might find their eyes stuck on the end of my forks, so kindly bought for me from Beales.
This afternoon was just plain stupid. I was experiencing a rare PM shift at the "berp", and I was sure it was going to be a long 8 hours. It was, but it was made slightly quicker by the insane, tedious and downright silly complaints that some people came up with. The first one came not very long into our shift, so everyone was still a bit grumpy and generally not looking forward to the same humdrum of the afternoon, when a woman came in, came to my till, and asked for a £1 discount, because the fuel had splashed her BMW after she took it out of her car. Now, really? She continued to the point where my manager had to go outside and look at the problem, (of which there wasn't), and the customer came back in, without mentioning the incident, and glared at me like an opening bowler who had delivered a vicious bouncer that the batsman had just avoided, before leaving in a huff. Why she expected me just to say, "Oh ok then, you can have a measly £1 off, because a green-coloured liquid splashed your car because you didn't let go of the trigger", I don't know. Stupid. Is it called a 'trigger' when it comes to filling up with petrol?
The 2nd incident was arguably even more comical. Just before I went on my break, at about 5.30pm, arguably the busiest time of the day, another woman came in, (noticing a pattern here?) and bought some salad noodle dish thing. I thought nothing of it, took her money and moved on to the next customer. Nothing special, let's get this over and done with. Only 5 minutes later, she strolled back in, jumped the sizeable queue entirely, to the disgruntlement of many people, and came up to my till and demanded to know why it was empty. Now. I can assure you, when she bought it, it was full to the rafters, so I can only assume she had gone back to her car, eaten the contents, and then decided that I would have not noticed that it was empty upon selling her it. How stupid do these people think we are? She stood at the till for a whole 10 minutes, while the clearly angry queue dispersed behind her, and she went through my answers and my duty manager's answers before she refused to move along until she saw the Store Manager, who had gone home, many many miles away. Clearly this was going to be a troublesome situation unless someone spoke up, so I said, I was certain that I had sold her the product in a perfectly good condition, before she stood down. But she did mention that she would be back when the Legend Alex, the store manager, was in town. Quite frankly, I am looking forward to what she comes with.
That 2nd woman does it all the time apparently. She comes in, at the busiest time of day, and tries to fool the staff into thinking they sold her something empty. She seems to think that everyone there is lacking in the lighthouse department, when really, it is her who is the one without a working brain cell. Now I know the reason why my Duty Manager ran off the tills as she saw her in the queue, leaving me, blissfully unaware, to serve her and subsequently deal with the daft consequences. The reactions of the people in the queue were fantastic, and understandable, also, with one man claiming, "Some of us have things to do aswell you know!" with another, a white van man, simply shouting, "Hurry the f*** up woman!". I would of nodded in agreement, if I wasn't dealing with a woman with a mind of a coconut and eyes that resembled Lord Voldermort.
I was pleased for 10pm to come around, despite the ridiculousness of the afternoon providing a laugh or two at the end of the shift, once the complainers had long gone. It's just incredible that some people can think they can get away with the most outrageous of lies, without us clocking on to what they are doing. The amount of paperwork to be completed after these stupid "official complaints" were made also, is mind-boggling. Such a waste of time, for people who are essentially, time wasting. It really does seem the Social Group of Official Complainers were out in full force this afternoon, and they converged on BP. When I was on shift.
Typical.
In other news, I was greeted by Sister Mitten yesterday, as she told me there were "presents waiting downstairs for me". I thought for a second, but despite the adverts and promotions starting ALREADY for Christmas, it is still a long way away and my birthday set solidly in the middle of May, I struggled to think of any reason why they had bought me "presents". Upon entering the kitchen however, I soon realised, as I saw the Beales and Wilkinsons bags sitting on the table, that these so-called "presents" were not going to be exciting. Sure enough, despite the collection of tumblers, pillowcases and tea-towels and the like, sporting interesting patterns, they were not very exciting. Useful? Yes. Exciting? Not really. The start of my university experience draws ever closer though, and I am starting to think about it daily now. Everything is happening ladies and gentlemen. Everything is happening.
I just hope I don't get landed with complainers in Halls, otherwise they might find their eyes stuck on the end of my forks, so kindly bought for me from Beales.
Sunday 4 September 2011
The Good Samaritan
I did something wonderful (forward slash) stupid last night. The time was roughly 2am, and after an unusually manic first few hours, in which I was constantly on till with my colleague, Mr. Relaxed George, a man came in, clearly in some sort of discomfort, and asked if he could borrow the phone. Not wanting to get into any sort of argument, I obliged and handed him the small-shaped handset and thought nothing more of it. I went on my break.
5 minutes later, I was asked back by Mr. Relaxed George asking if I could have a word with the gentleman. Slightly bemused, I went out the front to talk to him, and he then asked if he could borrow my personal mobile phone, as the work one he was offered was, "being shit". He did look in pain, so to help him out, I handed him my antique 80's phone, and stood next to him, as he rang his friend to ask if he could come and pick him up. Apparently, he had just been discharged from hospital, (understandable), and he was stranded in Bedford and needed to get home to Biggleswade. He rang 3 people, none of which could be bothered to come and collect him, so he was well and truly out in the cold. I can only presume he had started to think of places to sleep rough for the night, just like I had done when I was stranded in Milton Keynes in February 2010, admittedly after a night out. I hadn't just been discharged from hospital...
I felt sorry for him. Very sorry for him. He was in pain, had nowhere to go for the night and was in trouble. It was almost laughable how the hospital had let him go in such a state, he was even wearing a head bandage. I offered to pay for his taxi, a whole £18.60, back to Biggleswade, and he reluctantly agreed, with no other alternative. I got £20 out the cash machine and gave it to him, and he seemed very relieved. He said he had to go back to hospital tomorrow, (which is now today), so he would come back and leave £20 with one of my colleagues for me to pick up. In all honesty, I highly doubt he will do that, but I don't think I've been scammed here. I genuinely do think I've done a good deed. Maybe karma will come back and help me?
Every single person I've told think I've been done over by a scam artist, but I don't think so. He gave me a friendly wave, as I walked back to complete the break I had started before completing a 2nd quick night in succession, which is almost a rarity. Tonight was ridiculously busy though. Apparently there was some free festival going on somewhere, which would make sense, but I had no knowledge about it, meaning I was expecting a slow and uneventful night, sitting in a chair, reading the paper. I didn't even get to sit down though, and I suppose that's a good thing.
I have chosen to stay awake for as long as I can today, as I am not working another night shift until Friday, (with only one afternoon shift to complete before then). I have finished my marathon of 8 night shifts in 9 days and I have a couple of days off to relax, and do what I like with! Cushty!
For now though, I will chill out before going to watch Mowsbury Athletic FC's first game of their new season, which, of course, I will play no part in. I am merely a spectator these days, given I am off in under 3 weeks, but something just tells me I won't just be a spectator...
5 minutes later, I was asked back by Mr. Relaxed George asking if I could have a word with the gentleman. Slightly bemused, I went out the front to talk to him, and he then asked if he could borrow my personal mobile phone, as the work one he was offered was, "being shit". He did look in pain, so to help him out, I handed him my antique 80's phone, and stood next to him, as he rang his friend to ask if he could come and pick him up. Apparently, he had just been discharged from hospital, (understandable), and he was stranded in Bedford and needed to get home to Biggleswade. He rang 3 people, none of which could be bothered to come and collect him, so he was well and truly out in the cold. I can only presume he had started to think of places to sleep rough for the night, just like I had done when I was stranded in Milton Keynes in February 2010, admittedly after a night out. I hadn't just been discharged from hospital...
I felt sorry for him. Very sorry for him. He was in pain, had nowhere to go for the night and was in trouble. It was almost laughable how the hospital had let him go in such a state, he was even wearing a head bandage. I offered to pay for his taxi, a whole £18.60, back to Biggleswade, and he reluctantly agreed, with no other alternative. I got £20 out the cash machine and gave it to him, and he seemed very relieved. He said he had to go back to hospital tomorrow, (which is now today), so he would come back and leave £20 with one of my colleagues for me to pick up. In all honesty, I highly doubt he will do that, but I don't think I've been scammed here. I genuinely do think I've done a good deed. Maybe karma will come back and help me?
Every single person I've told think I've been done over by a scam artist, but I don't think so. He gave me a friendly wave, as I walked back to complete the break I had started before completing a 2nd quick night in succession, which is almost a rarity. Tonight was ridiculously busy though. Apparently there was some free festival going on somewhere, which would make sense, but I had no knowledge about it, meaning I was expecting a slow and uneventful night, sitting in a chair, reading the paper. I didn't even get to sit down though, and I suppose that's a good thing.
I have chosen to stay awake for as long as I can today, as I am not working another night shift until Friday, (with only one afternoon shift to complete before then). I have finished my marathon of 8 night shifts in 9 days and I have a couple of days off to relax, and do what I like with! Cushty!
For now though, I will chill out before going to watch Mowsbury Athletic FC's first game of their new season, which, of course, I will play no part in. I am merely a spectator these days, given I am off in under 3 weeks, but something just tells me I won't just be a spectator...
Saturday 3 September 2011
Les Arbitres
I received my long awaited DVD from Amazon today, simply entitled 'The Referees'. It's a docu/film based around the Euro 2008 referees, as it followed them round their pressure-filled lives on and off the pitch. It covered Howard Webb's death threats from Polish fans, the constant, (and sometimes comical) communicating they do, and the harsh X-Factor-like process of elimination. I honestly think it's up there with one of the best films I've ever seen, simply because it opened my eyes to how much pressure these guys are constantly under. I can only presume it will surprise non-referees even more, because the crockpit of pressure they are in, is just unbelievable. One mistake, and you're going home.
It has inspired me to want to referee today, but after some late enquiries to see if there were any matches going, with no luck, I think I will settle for a day of sleep before tonight's shift. The last of my marathon 8 shifts, and I have to say, I've done well. Last night seemed to go quite quickly, for a change, even if I was working with a randomer from another store and cycling home, bacon and cheese turnover in hand, was easier than usual. Maybe my fitness is getting back to 100%, with the illness now almost non-existant, with the only symptom remaining, the apparent deafness in my left ear.
My day off was spent in good company, and despite only a few hours sleep, I played well at golf, hitting 3 birdies in a round of 81. After a curry, myself, Birthday Boy (Magic Man), Kettle and Mario had a good crack at the pub quiz, but to no avail, and then I went home to continue my magical Football Manager game before crashing out. What an interesting life I lead...
No news on the University front. And why, oh why, is everyone jabbering on about Holland's 11-0 win against San Marino? I'm fairly confident I could beat San Marino on my own, so winning 11-0 isn't absolutely incredible. I'd expect at least triple figures against a team which would do better on ice. Anyway, seeing as it's 10am, I'd say that was good night from me! (And a good night from him!)
By the way, for those of you without a 'B' in GCSE French, 'Les Arbitres' is French for 'The Referees'. But you already knew that right?
It has inspired me to want to referee today, but after some late enquiries to see if there were any matches going, with no luck, I think I will settle for a day of sleep before tonight's shift. The last of my marathon 8 shifts, and I have to say, I've done well. Last night seemed to go quite quickly, for a change, even if I was working with a randomer from another store and cycling home, bacon and cheese turnover in hand, was easier than usual. Maybe my fitness is getting back to 100%, with the illness now almost non-existant, with the only symptom remaining, the apparent deafness in my left ear.
My day off was spent in good company, and despite only a few hours sleep, I played well at golf, hitting 3 birdies in a round of 81. After a curry, myself, Birthday Boy (Magic Man), Kettle and Mario had a good crack at the pub quiz, but to no avail, and then I went home to continue my magical Football Manager game before crashing out. What an interesting life I lead...
No news on the University front. And why, oh why, is everyone jabbering on about Holland's 11-0 win against San Marino? I'm fairly confident I could beat San Marino on my own, so winning 11-0 isn't absolutely incredible. I'd expect at least triple figures against a team which would do better on ice. Anyway, seeing as it's 10am, I'd say that was good night from me! (And a good night from him!)
By the way, for those of you without a 'B' in GCSE French, 'Les Arbitres' is French for 'The Referees'. But you already knew that right?
Thursday 1 September 2011
A Day Off From The Tyrants
Thank God, I have finally got a day, (or night), off from the humdrum and incredibly average routine of the dreaded "berp". Albeit it is only one night before I am back for 2 more nights of serving drunks and being awake at stupid o'clock. I have to keep on thinking of the money, and being an adult about it all.
I am quite pleased at how I have held out this past week. My chewbacca impression has worn off slightly, meaning I am recovering from SARS, which apparently is a rare event, and I am well on my way back to full fitness. I am pleased how I didn't give in, and went to work anyway, even sacrificing the final weekend of the cricket season so I could make it, and I think everyone at work seemed to appreciate the effort aswell, given we are dangerously short-staffed at the moment. I think the "old me", would not have been so... committed? Is that the right word? I know the "old me" would have put social events before work, citing enjoyment and mental sanity as the reason, but I suppose I have matured in the past couple of years when it comes to working. I know it has to be done, so this is a good thing as we enter the "University Month".
Preperations are going OK I suppose.. I have set up my account, sorted online enrolment, bought a few things, (although much more needs to be done on that front), and everything with accommodation and student finance is cushty. The only problem I seem to be having is finding a suitable enough photo for my NatWest Railcard and Student Card. They ask for a 'passport-style' photograph, but every single one of the 1,154 photographs that are plastered, somewhat embarrassingly, on my facebook profile, are most definitely not suitable. Most of these pictures, bar a couple of football snaps and the like, are of me horribly drunk, and apparently this is "not suitable". Trying to take a photo, without any sort of camera for a few days, is, well, impossible, so this is the only challenge that remains in my way before I actually leave. Many more challenges will come my way, but I am confident I will overcome them.
Today? Well, seeing as I've just woken up after a few hours of average kip, I suppose I'd better make the most of it! I leave for a round of golf with Beddoe and the Run Machine in a bit, and seeing that Summer has decided to join us for the occasion, I'm guessing, despite my probable disability with a golf bat, it's going to be a good laugh. Later I join Kettle and probably the Birthday Boy, (Magic Man), for a pub quiz that may or may not be happening given the quizmaster is maybe on holiday. Even if it isn't though, I imagine we will go to the pub to celebrate Magic Man's departure from the teens into true adulthood. Then, I'm guessing, I will collapse to sleep. Ok, it will put me in completely the wrong sleeping pattern, but it will be good to actually sleep when it's dark!
There's not really any point in telling you any stories from work, unless you count the pair of troublesome drunks that came in at impossible o'clock last night. I went to school with one of them, and can tell you now, he is a complete ****. So much so, that when they finally left, staggering out the doors to "carry on getting pissed init", he left his provisional driving licence behind. He and his gangster friend had annoyed me so much, that I grabbed a pair of scissors and spent the next 20 minutes cutting it into small pieces and then threw the small pieces into a black binbag. That'll teach him to be an idiot, and in fairness, I've done his liver a favour, as I doubt he'll be heading out into town without any ID! That's about as good as it gets I'm afraid...
Right now though, I'm going to prepare for golf. It almost feels weird being awake at a normal time of day given the past week or so... But I shall enjoy every minute of it, despite my obvious tiredness.
I am quite pleased at how I have held out this past week. My chewbacca impression has worn off slightly, meaning I am recovering from SARS, which apparently is a rare event, and I am well on my way back to full fitness. I am pleased how I didn't give in, and went to work anyway, even sacrificing the final weekend of the cricket season so I could make it, and I think everyone at work seemed to appreciate the effort aswell, given we are dangerously short-staffed at the moment. I think the "old me", would not have been so... committed? Is that the right word? I know the "old me" would have put social events before work, citing enjoyment and mental sanity as the reason, but I suppose I have matured in the past couple of years when it comes to working. I know it has to be done, so this is a good thing as we enter the "University Month".
Preperations are going OK I suppose.. I have set up my account, sorted online enrolment, bought a few things, (although much more needs to be done on that front), and everything with accommodation and student finance is cushty. The only problem I seem to be having is finding a suitable enough photo for my NatWest Railcard and Student Card. They ask for a 'passport-style' photograph, but every single one of the 1,154 photographs that are plastered, somewhat embarrassingly, on my facebook profile, are most definitely not suitable. Most of these pictures, bar a couple of football snaps and the like, are of me horribly drunk, and apparently this is "not suitable". Trying to take a photo, without any sort of camera for a few days, is, well, impossible, so this is the only challenge that remains in my way before I actually leave. Many more challenges will come my way, but I am confident I will overcome them.
Today? Well, seeing as I've just woken up after a few hours of average kip, I suppose I'd better make the most of it! I leave for a round of golf with Beddoe and the Run Machine in a bit, and seeing that Summer has decided to join us for the occasion, I'm guessing, despite my probable disability with a golf bat, it's going to be a good laugh. Later I join Kettle and probably the Birthday Boy, (Magic Man), for a pub quiz that may or may not be happening given the quizmaster is maybe on holiday. Even if it isn't though, I imagine we will go to the pub to celebrate Magic Man's departure from the teens into true adulthood. Then, I'm guessing, I will collapse to sleep. Ok, it will put me in completely the wrong sleeping pattern, but it will be good to actually sleep when it's dark!
There's not really any point in telling you any stories from work, unless you count the pair of troublesome drunks that came in at impossible o'clock last night. I went to school with one of them, and can tell you now, he is a complete ****. So much so, that when they finally left, staggering out the doors to "carry on getting pissed init", he left his provisional driving licence behind. He and his gangster friend had annoyed me so much, that I grabbed a pair of scissors and spent the next 20 minutes cutting it into small pieces and then threw the small pieces into a black binbag. That'll teach him to be an idiot, and in fairness, I've done his liver a favour, as I doubt he'll be heading out into town without any ID! That's about as good as it gets I'm afraid...
Right now though, I'm going to prepare for golf. It almost feels weird being awake at a normal time of day given the past week or so... But I shall enjoy every minute of it, despite my obvious tiredness.
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