tick tock ... tick
Things that drain you:
1. Dental invasion. Two and a half hours under the drill. After 75 minutes, the dentist leant back and said "Ah. That's done." I was ready to weep real tears of gratitude, when he continued, "Now to do the really difficult one."
More hours of crunching jaw growlers next week.
2. Trying to get refunds from Ellis-Brigham, deniers of the refund, and also the worst camping gear shop in the known universe.
I was feeling a tad guilty for having fired off angry letters of complaint to head office, but that dissipated fast.
Responses from staff included, "I'd take a credit note if I were you, and stand outside the store trying to flog it," to "You've got no chance mate, the only people I've ever seen get a refund got it by going absolutely mental. Course you could try it," to "Why not take a credit note and flog it to your friends?" to "Nah, never accept the credit note. Head office sees that as accepting defeat."
Continually, as I steadily wore them down with my true method of standing still and speaking very quietly even though you want me to go away.
The situation only changed by chance - one manager saying, "hold on, are you the person who writes the letters? Oh, here you go then. Here's your refund."
£300 back in my pocket. Wankers.
3. NHS nurses who respond to questions about which anti-malarials to take with the line "wait till you get there, then see what the locals take, and you'll be fine."
Scuse me, but don't anti-malarials need to bed down for a fortnight before you offer your thin pasty skin up for the biting?
4. People. People people people. The most draining fucking conversations on the planet. The most saddening, tedious, belittling conversations. The beigeness of it all, the feeling that you're a cipher for how someone else wants you to be. And the disappointment when you realise that by standing there and being their 'other' you're playing their game.
Cancelled my leaving party, gave up returning calls, and the minute I stop running around energising others' fears, a weight lifts. Bingo.
5. I still have nowhere to put my cats or my belongings. My family have offered a damp garage. If I buy a groundsheet, will that keep my photos safe for three years?
6. Blogs. Sick of the showmanship.
But ... there's a hard deadline here. Whether I do it well, whether I do it badly, it's four weeks to go. At some point, I'll be here, and these things will be behind me.
1. Dental invasion. Two and a half hours under the drill. After 75 minutes, the dentist leant back and said "Ah. That's done." I was ready to weep real tears of gratitude, when he continued, "Now to do the really difficult one."
More hours of crunching jaw growlers next week.
2. Trying to get refunds from Ellis-Brigham, deniers of the refund, and also the worst camping gear shop in the known universe.
I was feeling a tad guilty for having fired off angry letters of complaint to head office, but that dissipated fast.
Responses from staff included, "I'd take a credit note if I were you, and stand outside the store trying to flog it," to "You've got no chance mate, the only people I've ever seen get a refund got it by going absolutely mental. Course you could try it," to "Why not take a credit note and flog it to your friends?" to "Nah, never accept the credit note. Head office sees that as accepting defeat."
Continually, as I steadily wore them down with my true method of standing still and speaking very quietly even though you want me to go away.
The situation only changed by chance - one manager saying, "hold on, are you the person who writes the letters? Oh, here you go then. Here's your refund."
£300 back in my pocket. Wankers.
3. NHS nurses who respond to questions about which anti-malarials to take with the line "wait till you get there, then see what the locals take, and you'll be fine."
Scuse me, but don't anti-malarials need to bed down for a fortnight before you offer your thin pasty skin up for the biting?
4. People. People people people. The most draining fucking conversations on the planet. The most saddening, tedious, belittling conversations. The beigeness of it all, the feeling that you're a cipher for how someone else wants you to be. And the disappointment when you realise that by standing there and being their 'other' you're playing their game.
Cancelled my leaving party, gave up returning calls, and the minute I stop running around energising others' fears, a weight lifts. Bingo.
5. I still have nowhere to put my cats or my belongings. My family have offered a damp garage. If I buy a groundsheet, will that keep my photos safe for three years?
6. Blogs. Sick of the showmanship.
But ... there's a hard deadline here. Whether I do it well, whether I do it badly, it's four weeks to go. At some point, I'll be here, and these things will be behind me.
"Since you're here, why not take an hour or so to do some "wave supervision". Simply sit on the beach and direct the surf. Make sure each wave is breaking exactly as you dictate. It takes a while to get the hang of this, so don't be disappointed if your first duty shift is not a total success. You may need to come back tomorrow for more practice."
posted by Lectrice at lunes, junio 20, 2005
2 Advice:
that is a brilliant quote there, think I may do some of that myself.
It's good time to do it!
Publicar un comentario
<< Home