Back To Basics

I’m back to where I was 2 years ago. It’s like déjà vu, except I don’t feel like the new kid on the block this time – more like the ratty old fart in the corner who drinks 3 cups of tea every day at exactly the same time. In other words, I feel like part of the furniture. The part that people don’t bat their eyelids at, even though you’ve been doing 2 more years of living since they last saw you.

Today I started my new temp role at the media company I previously worked for, and I’d already broken every rule in the book by 11am through opening gmail, facebook and my blog. The most important thing they teach you as temp is to never use the internet whilst on assignment. I don’t think I have ever managed to follow that rule.

It was nice walking in here this morning to some familiar faces. Not much as changed, although I remember the layout of the office as being different, and at least half the women I used to work with are off having babies. There must be something in the water here – every woman bar one in this department has either had or is about to have a baby, all in a period of 2 years. Please let me not catch this virus. Can you imagine; I work here for a couple of months and next thing my life is over because I have a sprog on the way. Heaven help us all. I can see myself buying weekly pregnancy tests, just to double check.

So I don’t have anything to do right now, as I’m waiting to get set up on the systems I need to start on the project they’ve given me. One thing is for sure, where I used to blog occasionally about funny work situations, I will now have to blog exclusively about my personal life. This is just not that kind of place.

I woke up an hour before my alarm today, and didn’t sleep very well last night. I felt like a piece of me was missing this morning when I passed Leicester Square station on the tube instead of getting off to go to work. I miss my old company so much already, and imagining all my mates going in this morning to gossip around the coffee machine about Friday night’s party makes my stomach feel hollow. I know it’s normal and that it will pass. I just wish it would hurry up and do so.

Friday night was a great night, though. A fitting end to a fantastic run of 10 months of truly enjoying my job. It’s rare to look forward to going to work everyday, but I did, and I will try to remember that feeling fondly rather than with bitterness at having to move on. But back to our big leaving do….. we partied from noon on Friday to around 4am. I got home at 5, and woke up again at 8am. Suffice it to say my weekend was a write off. My hangover on Saturday was of epic proportions, and I think my lowest moment came when I had to walk around Wimbledon in the rain for an hour because I thought if I got back on the bus to go home, I’d throw up. Good times.

Let’s see if this new role makes me any wiser.

Big Girls Don't Cry

My day at work today has consisted mostly of boring admin tasks, such as ordering refreshments for meetings and trying to track down a binding machine that mysteriously did not arrive with this week's stationary order.

As much as I am loving this company, I have to admit that I don't have an enormous amount to do in this role. I came from a position where I was supporting a team of 10, and am now only supporting one man. Of course, he is far more important than any of my previous team, but there is still only so much work one man can generate. He is also particularly easy-going, so if you had a mental picture of me running around after a high-powered suit clutching a clipboard and struggling to stay on top of things - think again. I manage my workload more than easily, and have plenty of time left to blog and read my tabloids. Which is great... in a way. It's not that I don't want time to do my own thing at work; in fact, I would hate a job which kept me so frantic all day that I couldn't send e-mails and check facebook. No CEO ambitions for me. But I do also want to be learning things in my job, and using the opportunities given to prove myself so I have a chance at moving up. I realise that this PA role was always going to be about getting a foot in the door - I don't really want to be a career PA. And because of this, I can't be seen to have major aspirations just yet; I need to prove myself a valuable asset in this position first, and show some loyalty and commitment before I can start making moves in other directions.

For the most part I am fine with this. But I do have days where I get pretty bored. So I've decided to try and do something about it in a non-threatening way, as the last thing I want is for people to be resentful of me moving in on their territory. So what better place to start than to help out with our annual Commercial Conference - the one day and one night away which is disguised as a brainstorming seminar, and is really just an excuse for 200 people to get as pissed as humanly possible and see who takes the most embarrassing photos (did I mention that sometimes I love England?). It's not an event that has any impact on our external clients and stakeholders, but is just a chance for staff to let loose and have fun. The Marketing Team are organising it, and I've let them know I'd like to help out if they need a hand. So far I've already been given two tasks to do. So there we go, baby steps. I definitely love it here and see a future for myself. I guess I'm just going to have to be proactive if I want to get ahead in any way - although that should go without saying, shouldn't it!

One of the best things about my company is Dagwood, my boss. He is a truly lovely human being - funny, irreverent and completely bullshit-free. He calls me "my little cherub", which makes me feel both young and cute - bonus points. If I put a call through to him and it's someone he likes, he tells them about his new "gorgeously efficient PA", and if it's someone he doesn't like, I am his "terrifying, dragon-like PA" and they are "truly lucky to have got through (her) cast-iron screen". He's full of wisecracks and expressions of delight / misery - he definitely has a flair for the dramatic. Last year at the Conference the theme was Rock Star, and he wore a full body purple Elvis suit, with sequins and ruffles at the sleeves. He enters wholeheartedly into the spirit of everything he does, which I find very inspiring.

My company is currently in the middle of a takeover bid by our main rival and up til now, arch enemy. Everything is a little tense and chaotic around here at the moment, but once we know for sure what is happening, I will hopefully be able to spend a bit of time shadowing and assisting other teams with their projects.

A New Day Has Come

So, today is my first day in my new job! I'm sitting in a new office, surrounded by new faces I don't know, and just about the only thing I can do by myself is go to the loo, because if I try and go anywhere else I get lost (this building is like a maze). But somehow, I feel ok. I thought I'd be sick when I walked in the door this morning - I have never been this nervous starting a new role. But I needn't have worried - deep down I knew all along that it would be fine. Everyone has been super friendly and welcoming, and I know I'm going to really love it here when I get settled.

At the moment I'm suffering through the typical new starter's issues of not having very much to do. My new boss, let's call him Dagwood (a reference to his nickname, which everyone - internal and external - all refer to him by) has been in meetings almost constantly since we all got in, so I haven't really had much time to talk to him or figure out how we're going to work together. My first impression I formed of him during my interview seems to be pretty much correct though - he is very busy, very important and very much one of life's over-achievers, but he is also down-to-earth, friendly and not at all intimidating.... ok, maybe a very small bit, but only in the way that everyone here is a stranger and therefore slightly intimidating.

I sit in a cosy little square shape with Dagwood, JM (the Director of the Trading team - Dagwood is Director of the Commercial Sales team) and Sammy, JM's PA. Sammy has all the luck though - there's no-one behind her so her screen is closed off from everyone on the floor. Not so with me - the 2 rows of peeps behind me can see what I'm doing, so that means I have to be all professional - at least, until I'm settled and I know how much mucking about I can get away with.

It is strange to be waiting for orders from someone other than my old team - I keep looking around expecting Jackie to come up behind me and start asking me to squeeze meetings into places where there aren't even any places, as she did several times a day. I am literally sitting here waiting for something to happen, so in the meantime I'm reading up about the company on the intranet. It reminds me of when I first started in all my other temp roles, and I know if I could fast forward a few weeks, I'd see myself laughing and chatting with colleagues (whom I'd be calling by name - a seemingly impossible feat right now), getting on with tasks that will be as familiar to me as breathing and generally feeling like part of the furniture (a good thing). I know I have that all to look forward to - I just have to get through the first few days.

The great thing about this office is the noise level. Sammy and I have a radio crossing the divider on our desks, and that along with two or three others in the office are permanently on, resulting in someone constantly retuning theirs as someone else changes stations, so we don't have conflicting broadcasts jarring our brains. It's so cool to work to a soundtrack of music - I'd forgotten how much I like the background noise.

Anyway, I think maybe I've spent long enough wasting company on my very first day, so hopefully soon I will have plenty of hot celebrity gossip to set these pages alight - I'm crossing fingers!

My Guitar Lies Bleeding In My Arms

This is just a quick update; for some reason I have been insanely busy today and now I've run out of time to do anything! It's been rather annoying really.

So, my interview yesterday went well, I think. I am fully aware that what I think is successful might be just the opposite, as evidenced by my last experience with this, so I'm not getting too hopeful, or indeed anticipating much at all. It was only the first round anyway; if I get through to the second, I'll meet with the two Directors I would be supporting. The interview this time was with the HR manager, who was lovely but most employers tend to come across as congenial on first meeting; it doesn't mean anything. She said she hoped to be able to tell me by the end of this week if I had made the cut or not, so perhaps I will hear back tomorrow.

Last night the others were all watching footie, and I had some to kill so I decided to pick up my abandoned guitar. I've had it since January, and like anything novel, I couldn't put it down for the first few months, as I listened to Eric Clapton make his magic on my mp3 player and imagined myself wowing the world with my incredible skill. Then, as with anything else that requires major effort, I sort of lost interest once I realised I would have to practice every single day, and do boring things like scales and strumming patterns if I wanted to play properly. I am of the instant gratification generation; when I want things I want them now, not in 6 months time. Patience is not my strong suit, and it annoyed me to find that even if I practiced religiously every day for 3 weeks, the improvements at first are very marginal, and I didn't pick up my guitar one day and find I was suddenly pinky perfect.

Everyone has a rock star fantasy. In some people's dreams they are the singers; until recently so was I. However, let's face it - playing the guitar really well lends a moody, rebellious nature to the musician, plus they have a claim to fame that few can dispute. There are no guitar players on stage today who cannot play, while there are many singers who cannot sing. It's infinitely harder to fake playing an instrument. I should probably mention here that my guitar is acoustic, so it's not exactly dripping rock n roll. But you can't run before you can walk, and acoustic is the easiest thing to learn on.. plus, if I'm honest, I doubt I will ever find it in myself to devote enough time to this hobby to warrant the purchase of an electric guitar.

Both my parents are musical. My mom plays piano and sings, my dad plays acoustic and bass. I had piano lessons when I was younger, and if I remember correctly, my teacher told my parents I had talent but, surprise surprise, I was lazy and wouldn't get anywhere because I didn't practice. Even as a wee lass I wasn't interested if it required hours of repetition. In fact, that is very much a theme throughout my life, which possibly explains my penchant for last minute cramming during exams, projects only started the night before the deadline and why I like alcohol so much - it doesn't require an awful lot of repetition to get to where you want to be.

Anyway. So I really do want to play the guitar well. Not brilliantly, but passably enough so that if someone walks into the room and I am wailing along to my plucking and strumming, they might stay and listen and nod thoughtfully instead of look at me in horror and dive for the ear plugs. So last night I played, I'd like to say til my fingers bled, but that would be a lie - it was more like til they went rather pink and puffy looking. This didn't take long, as the slight callouses I built up 6 months ago are long gone, and it stings like a bitch while you try to build them up again. My problem at the moment is trying to get a strumming rhythm right according to the song I am playing, while still changing chords and singing the right words. It's like rubbing your stomach and patting your head - when you manage to get the pattern right you realise you are two chords behind and you're singing the chorus when your fingers are trying to play the first verse. I must say, I am grateful for the fountains in our pond that mask the cacophony; we've just made friends with our neighbours and I wouldn't want to be responsible for the erosion of good will.

She Works Hard for the Money

I have an interesting update on my work situation. L recently got promoted to Planning Manager, as I posted previously, and her former PA position is now open for a permanent candidate. They have a temp in at the moment, and they will start interviewing for her post possibly next week. At the same, they have decided to make my post permanent. Once again I was offered the job, and not only that, but sort of begged to stay - what can I say, I am just the most charming PA to walk through these doors. Mostly my team like me because I am unable to keep my mouth shut. When I am not entertaining them with my sparkling conversations with S or engaging in witty verbal sparring with Grumpy Pants, the oldest and most sour person in my team (although he's only pretending to be, he's a giant softie underneath and he truly loves my lack of diplomacy), I am talking fashion with the girls or dirty with the guys - how could they not love me? Anyway, despite all this obvious adoration, they're still kicking me out on my ass.

I should make another mention here that they have all repeatedly rallied for me stay and take this role permanently, and I have repeatedly refused, so the kicking out on ass thing isn't at all as nasty as it may sound. I won't commit, and they want me to, so we're at a stalemate. I've been through my reasons for not going permanent here before, so I won't bore you with them again. Besides, talking about why I am not going to make a career at the LDA puts me to sleep, and then as I nod over my keyboard people could come up behind me and read this irreverent post and perhaps kick me out quicker than otherwise intended.

What I will say is that I have experienced a sudden streak of motivation to find a new job, powered by the fear of floundering in London unemployed. I am seeing a couple more agencies (covens) this week, although by George I do hate them. Their snobby attitude, their goal of many candidates, superfast turnover; it's not conducive to finding your perfect job, it only helps if you're desperate and willing to take the first thing they throw at you, which is of course what they are counting on. Nevertheless, I will enter the lairs of evil again and try to burn my image into their retinas so as to leave an impression lasting more than say, oh, 30 seconds. I've considered dressing up in an unusual costume, or being really loud and/or overenergetic, but am afraid either of these tactics might get security sicced on me. Or worse, Agency Blacklisting. Not that there is such a thing, but can you imagine? Like Credit Blacklisting, only worse, cos not only are you not able to get a job through an agency, you would also end up with Credit Blacklisting automatically due to your lack of funds and subsequent inability to pay your rent/credit card bill/Sky TV account. Nightmare.

I never hold out much hope for these visits, possibly because I am so vehemently negative about tham in the first place, but don't challenge me unless you've been through it - it would try the patience of Mother Theresa.

Travelling Band

It's 22:45 and we have to be up in 4 hours and 15 minutes to be at Gatwick by 4:30am. Ok, so the cheap flights seemed like a good idea at the time! We're all packed (took us 3 hours cos we kept taking breaks to wah-hey! around the house) and we're hoping that by some miracle we haven't forgotten anything. Sod's law says of course we have. But as long as we have passports, money and party tickets, everything else can be begged for, bought, borrowed or stolen. It's pissing with rain outside right now; we really couldn't have picked a better night to leave sodding old London behind.

I went for a job interview this morning - my first actual London interview rather than agency meet and greet. It's a role that I initially thought was kind of cool; now I am obssessed with getting it and feel that my life will be over if I don't. Yeah, it's definitely easier not to give a shit. It's for Accounts Assistant at Redwoods Publishing House, working on one of their client magazines. It's the oppotunity of a lifetime - I could have a career in publishing and who knows, maybe one day I'd even get to write a magazine article.

Anyway, I really meant this to be a full post but with all the excitement of the day, I never quite got there. So I think my best option is to get to sleep as soon as humanly possible so this frikkin holiday can finally arrive.

Later, my peeps, I will tell you all. Prepare yourself. ;-)

Working Class Hero

Wow, it's been more than a week since I've written! That'll do wonders for my hit counter. ;-P I've just been lazy, really, and also have not been allowed to comment on the biggest thing that's happened in my life this week, so it seemed easier to slack off. I won't make you gag for it: Shoes has got a new job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-) :-) :-) Here's how it all went down:

Last week he received an e-mail from an IT company called MMRIT. They do legal and financial IT, IT consulting, networking and general support. The director has seen his CV online, and wanted to know if he was interested in a helpdesk position. Helpdesk is like the reception of the IT world. You answer calls, do light technical support (in some companies) and direct calls according to the issues. It's not what Shoes wants to do in the long run, but he almost certainly has to start off in a position like this to get a foot in the door. Nobody is going to put him on the technical side of things with his lack of experience, especially because he's only just started studying his Networking Qualification, and that seems to be compulsory for technical work. So he phoned the director to set up an interview, and was slightly surprised by what turned out to be a half hour phone interview, rather than a simple arranging of times. Luckily, the night before he made the call, we were lying in bed thinking up the sort of questions he'd get asked in the face-to-face, and preparing answers. He sailed through the phone round fine, and went in on Friday last week to meet the director and the helpdesk manager. I was banned from mentioning anything to anyone, although I did cave and tell my mother and my sister, unbeknownst to him, and swore them to secrecy under pain of death.

So he arrived at the station at 9:40am, to start the interview at 10am. What followed, he says, were the worst 65 minutes of his life. I got a panicked phone call at 9:50am - he'd made a wrong turn on leaving the station and couldn't find the road. I google-mapped it, and sat on the phone directing him to the right street. Of course, London had chosen that Friday to warm up after months of torrential rain, and he was wearing a suit for the first time in his life. So he ran, sweating and claustrophobic, up and down roads in Temple looking for this street. He drank a whole bottle of water whilst on the move, and when he finally arrived at the company, was desperate for the loo but too frantic to go. He was ushered into a room to sit at a desk opposite two rather imposing figures, and offered a glass of water, which he promptly declined on account of his needing the loo so badly. Big mistake. What followed was 45 minutes of hard-core grilling, the likes of which he has never encountered before, this being his first real job interview and all. Although he said he managed not to stumble over his words, he couldn't answer three quarters of the questions the director put to him. Apparently most of the interview centred around networking, which is the second part of his course so he has literally only just started it - I think he's read through the introduction the day before the interview. He not only felt stupid and green, but his extreme nervousness, toilet issues and suit-phobia had all combined to make his mouth dryer than Ghandi's sandle, and his lips began to stick to his teeth when he spoke. At the end of the interview, where we had practised that he would close with a short statement about what he could bring to the company, he just about teleported himself out of there in his rush to get away, all carefully thought out self-promotions scattering in the dust of his haste.

He phoned me afterwards, quite dejected, saying he had completely blown the interview and never expected to hear back from them again. Fast forward 5 days, to where he has made his peace and chalked it all up to experience, and he gets a call this morning to say he's got the job! Like I said to him, if it was meant to be, then despite his less-than-perfect showing, he'd still get the chance; if not, his next interview would be a hell of a lot better. I guess it was meant to be! He starts on Monday 13th August, just three days before we go to Portugal. One of the really great things about this job is that it pays about £3,000 per annum more than all the other entry level positions he was looking at. It's alot more admin based than what he wants, but it's all about the first year or so of basic experience; once he has that he will be able to apply for the type of job he can sink his teeth into.

So, as you can imagine, we are both extremely happy, and I am very proud of him. When we came to London in 2005, he was still very lost in terms of where he was going and what kind of career he wanted for himself. In a year and a half, he decided on the path he would take, studied what he needed to get himself there and now has a brand new job in the industry. I feel like I should be taking a few tips from him!

In other news, this last week was one of the best we've had in a very long time. I volunteered at an RSPCA event on Saturday morning, and then came home and changed and we headed off to a boat party on the Thames - a sunset cruise. We couldn't really see the sunset of course, as despite the change of fortune this is still London and the weather was still shit, but at least it was warm enough to stand out on deck for the first three hours with our drinks. A boat party is a bit different from a normal party, because it feels like a lock-down, which psychologically makes people that extra little bit crazy. You board at 6pm, and you can't get off til the boat docks again at 12pm. It's a raging, out-of-control, mayhem-filled cracker of a party, with everyone in the best spirits you can imagine. It was organised by party promoter Friendz, which is a South African promoter, and the majority of people at their events are all saffas. Even more reason to rock the house (boat). Rock it we did - and when we finally docked at 12pm, the Awesome Foursome, Neutrino, OJ and G-Days took the party back to our place and continued well into the early hours.

Scarves and I had to be up at 12pm on Sunday to get ready for the UK Street Dancing Championships. It was a bit of a rough ride getting there, but I'm glad we went - the dancing was fabulous, and the experience well worth it. Since Scarves is the former dancer and I am the former gymnast, we have agreed to go to each other's beloved events when and where we can find them. Unluckily for me, the number of big league gymnastics events around London - and anywhere in the world, for that matter - is very tiny. Gymnastics has a very small following in comparison to many other sports, and the major events tend to be splashed across the world, making them hard to see even on TV. At least I get to watch the dancing though, which I do enjoy. I am determined one way or another to be in London in 2012 with tickets for the Olympics Gymnastics events.... it has always been one of my dreams, and this is the first time it has ever looked possible!