Changes

The past week has been… crazy? Unexpected? Emotionally draining? Like nothing I’ve experienced before?

It started with a visit to a counsellor. Originally I made the appointment so I could work out some of the anger I felt about Mr W&C’s situation. Suddenly, other issues started to emerge, which explained why I was excessively emotional about something that hadn’t even happened to me. A couple of days later, I spoke to a work colleague (a person I trust and respect), only to explain to her Mr W&C’s situation and it all came out. Mr W&C is going through a hard time and I’m there to support him but I can see I have some issues of my own to resolve.

Suffice to say, there are going to be some changes in my world. I’ve lost my direction somewhere along the way and it seemed easier to worry about others problems than deal with my own. I need a little bit more ‘me’ in my life and it can’t all be about running a household or looking after someone who is quite capable of looking after themselves.

When my colleague asked me a few simple questions about what I wanted in life, all my answers seemed to be ‘I don’t know’. However, just giving myself time to think about it allowed the answers to flow rather quickly in the next few days. I even made a few decisions and changes and although it happened quickly, they didn’t feel rushed or wrong. I’d waited long enough and I was ready to finally make a move. Within a couple of days I finally made the commitment and joined the gym (I even have a gym buddy for this week!), sent in a volunteer application, started a new blog (hopefully up and running soon) and spoke to my manager about a secondment opportunity. It’s the blog I’m particularly excited about. It’s a small step towards a hobby and possibly a career in what I’ve always wanted to do – freelance writing.

It’s strange – I had a sense 2010 was going to be a big year. I was slightly worried because I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad (I think I’d decided it was bad). When I made the resolution that this year was going to be about staying healthy and keeping stress to a minimum, I wasn’t aware it was going to require a complete rethink of all aspects of my life. Even Mr W&C, who I thought would be dubious about my sudden change in attitude, has been supportive and interested. And now I’m up at 5am because I have too much energy to stay in bed. Urgh. That’s way too enthusiastic.

Tony Martin and Ed Kavalee Reunite for Sketch on The 7PM Project

And Get This fans rejoice everywhere. I have to sizzle this video. Normal transmission will resume shortly.

Work update

Study looks like a war zone. It was almost tidy, then we bought the new laptop and other equipment, which always comes with an unbelievable amount of paper stuffed into boxes. Somehow mess seems to breed overnight. Ironically, half the mess seems to be my home magazines, which promote how to keep an uncluttered house. There’s always something more exciting or important to be done though, like cleaning the toilet or writing polite letters telling someone to sod off.

Speaking of such, we sent a reply letter to Mr W&C’s manager regarding her sudden decision that everything that was wrong with the workplace was due to Mr W&C. She had requested that he come into work (whilst on leave) and discuss his position. The letter politely says no, he won’t be doing that, particularly as the situation has been stressful enough (had to bite my tongue to stop from pointing out that if she wanted him to have meetings with her then she shouldn’t have insisted he take leave). She’s also said she’ll be working with others to determine how the workplace will run, insinuating that Mr W&C won’t be involved in the process. The letter also politely says that yes he will and she’ll keep him informed. Not sure how she’s going to take to being told no. Probably only slightly better than when she finds out Mr W&C is discussing it with the union and they’ll be attending any meeting which negotiates pay and position.

I continue to be astounded by her ignorance of policy and procedure and her insensitivity in handling the matter. Her approach was completely unprofessional and unnecessary but I think it says a lot about her own insecurity. I could probably write a long post about the situation and our history with this person. Mr W&C has spent the past three years helping and supporting her. However, dwelling on someone else’s shortcomings is not productive. Thankfully, my manager is brilliant and I discussed the issue with her when I returned to work. She’s helped to point me in a more positive direction. I’ve made an appointment for counselling and just making the appointment has helped the anger subside. Whilst I am angry by this person’s behaviour, I also need help to support Mr W&C. I hope by moving forward that I can help Mr W&C do the same.

Don’t rock The Boat

Yesterday, we ate lunch at The Boat in Mindarie. On the way in, a poster caught my eye. It asked people to ‘respect the flag’ and anyone caught wearing the flag as a cape, would not be permitted entry to the pub on Australia Day. Ok, fair enough. The sentiment seems to back the recent movement of ‘The Flag Belongs On A Flagpole, not a Bogan’.

 

But hang on, wasn’t it just four years ago that the organisers of the Sydney Big Day Out requested that people did not bring the flag to the event as the previous year it had been used by people to harass others into proving their Australianness (whatever that is)? And weren’t the organisers completely derided in the media, and by politicians hoping to get their face on the nightly news, for stopping people from displaying their patriotic pride? The popular stance at the time seemed to forget that the flag was being hijacked and used to promote particular, racially-motivated agendas. The Cronulla riots, for example. Idiotic groups such as ‘Fuck off, we’re full’ were emerging, using the Australian flag as symbolic of their cause. I think this image, taken last year, embodies the age and intellect of such sentiments.

 

Suddenly, in 2010, bans on the flag are the way to go. I’ve just searched ‘Australia Day 2009 wearing flag as a cape’ and Google has vomited out numerous blogs proclaiming that the author will not be wearing the flag as a cape and/or cannot tolerate such behaviour as if we’re all in some undefined competition to be the best at being patriotic. Flags as capes are so 2006 and you are now a bigot, a racist and attempting to hijack celebrations. It is slightly mystifying as to why it is a cape-only vendetta. To be honest, drunks in flag board shorts, with a southern cross tattoo, no shirt and a watermelon helmet also require maligning.

 

But unlike years earlier, the banning is not ‘unAustralian’ (whatever that is) nor is it preventing people from displaying their patriotic pride. When did it all start to change? I suspect when the word ‘bogan’ started to be attached to the concept.

 

Back at The Boat, immediately upon walking into the establishment, I was met with an image on the wall of a cartoon depicting a well-endowed lass, bending over with two frosty jugs of beer in front of, well, hers. So it’s no to overt displays of racist nationalism but yes to boobs out. Just so we’re all clear.

Camping adventure

Camping was brilliant. I have not been camping since I was about 8, ignoring the forced camping we were to endure at school. We dropped Mia off at my parents’ place on the way through and headed for Margaret River. It was hot – about 40 that day in Perth. After enduring the heat, we found the most beautiful camping site in Boranup, half way between Margaret River and Augusta.

Although there were some rules of the campsite that I simply couldn’t adhere to.

Mostly because I’d already cracked open the bottle when I read the sign (I look shocking in that photo but it was after several hours in a car that is not air conditioned at the afore mentioned temperature. That’s my excuse anyway).

We stayed for two nights. On the first morning, we drove down to the beach for a swim. It was beautiful. Simply amazing. The water was so clear.

We headed to Augusta the next day and then onto Black Point. We took the long way in, which was scenic but I was pleased once we finally arrived. The temperature had also dropped 20 degrees and I had fortunately purchased a jumper at Augusta. I slept in it. I’d packed for summer. It was not summer on the southern coast.

The following day we braved the horizontal wind and misting rain to explore the beach at Black Point, then went around to Jasper Beach.

 

It was here that things seemed to go awry. After attempting to reverse out of the sand dunes at Jasper Beach, the reverse gear decided it’d had enough and packed up and went home, leaving us stuck on a sand dune with no opportunity to reverse or turn around. We made a trek back up the road and left a message on the signage announcing our need for help, then returned to the car. Remarkably, within 15 minutes, a couple with their small army of sons had appeared and preceded to spend the next 2 hours pulling us out. Drama.

It all ended fine and we made it back to camp but it did unfortunately cut the trip short and we returned to my parents’ the following day. Mia was happy to see us but we were both ready to get back out and go again. We’re hoping to make a big trip later this year. I’m hoping we can do another practice run before then. It helped to remove us from the stress of the past week. I wish it could last. It helped remind us that there are better and more important things in life than work issues.

How Not To Be A Manager 101

Where to start? On the first day back at work, Mr W&C’s manager (and I use the term ‘manager’ loosely) called a meeting and basically informed him in a blunt and accusatory way that he was crap at his job and directed him to take leave. Keep in mind, over the Christmas break, this woman invited us to her house for a friendly BBQ. Whilst we did not have problems with the content of the discussion because he has been dealing with some difficult issues at work, which were beyond his capability and job description, her strategy reeked of managerial incompetence. I suspect she’d had a bollocking herself and was simply looking for someone to blame. Not sure how suddenly dumping on Mr W&C was going to solve it though.

There were a few holes in her argument, such as the issues she raised were not actually part of his job description to deal with and he had flagged at the interview he was not capable of addressing. You know, minor factors in the overall argument. It is is still not clear why she has decided such a plan was the best course of action, particularly since it will result in spending more money to pay someone else higher duties to perform the job (someone who has stated they don’t want to do the job). However, we won’t be fighting it because although the execution of her plan was particularly poor, it is not a good job. It has developed into a different position requiring skills simply not possessed by the person who originally applied for the job. Besides, he is entitled to maintain his current pay rate (I don’t think she knows this as policies for HR are generally ignored in favour of What I Want: An Irresponsible Manager’s Guide to Bad Decisions. A rude shock awaits) and seems he will end up in a position more suited to his skills.

Why she chose to address the issue in a way that caused a large amount of stress, anger and hurt is also a mystery. It could’ve been done in a better way (like, I don’t know, supporting and helping the person to do a better job, as was promised at the job interview). I could see that Mr W&C would spend his leave stewing over this, reading emails and answering his phone, causing more stress and upset so I took a week off and we threw everything in the back of the Landy and took off down south on our first camping adventure (more to come). It was a good decision and appears to have helped relieve stress.

Upon our return, there was a letter waiting from our favourite ‘manager’. Unlike her position the week before, the tone was calm, considered and accepting of the points Mr W&C had raised in a response email he’d sent prior to starting his leave. Unlike most of her reactive solutions, she appeared to have considered what she’d done not only to someone who had supported her but to someone she’d cultivated a friendship with outside of work. A friendship which cannot and will not be recovered. We simply do not need someone like that in our life. Someone who treats people badly because of their own mood or whims, then expects forgiveness for their actions because they feel guilty (although not remorseful enough to apologise or change their behaviour).

I am confident Mr W&C can benefit from the shift in position and will come out better off. If only it was approached more sensitively and intelligently. I almost feel sorry for her. To make a decision which causes more damage to a budget in deficit, upsets all your staff and spreads throughout the workplace that you’ve done something nasty to someone does not make for a pleasant work environment. Or guarantee you the job you’re acting in. Or repair a strong working relationship with two people. Or cultivate the respect of outside contractors who are carrying out your work. Almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

Whinge, whinge, whinge

The laptop and a glass of Peacetree wine are helping to console me on my final day of what has been a brilliant three weeks. Christmas Day was just the two of us, taking off to a remote beach location to cook breakfast on our new Weber Baby Q, which we have decided is the greatest contribution to outdoor cooking ever since a caveman wondered ‘what would happen if I rubbed these two sticks together?’.  There has since been many a warm evening spent on the back patio (our first summer with backyard paving), BBQing, drinking and generally enjoying the cool nights. Mornings have been spent at the beach, splashing about in the sheltered rock pools, then home for a gruelling day of shopping, napping, eating Xmas leftovers and arseing about on the new laptop.

 

The Q spends time pumping out perfectly roasted chickens and legs of lamb. Our vege garden is producing faster than we can eat, especially with the tomatoes, and having a selection of herbs in the garden is an absolute luxury. I’m loving making up spur-of-the-moment salads from garden greens.

I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to turn into the stressed out person I was before I started holidays. Any minor physical ailments I had have disappeared in the past three weeks. I don’t want to attempt to cram everything into a weekend or after work. I like having time to arse around on the computer, spend time in the garden and go to the beach.

It’s not that I hate work. It’s not ultimately what I want to be doing but I know it will get me there. And I enjoy working with the majority of people. I do get bored and sometimes feel underutilised or forgotten about. I feel I have to prove myself because the last person in my job was The Greatest Person Employed Ever. It has been a challenge but I feel it is for the wrong reasons. It is challenging because I don’t receive a lot of instruction in what to do so I learn by screwing up all the time. Whilst this is a good way to learn, so is guidance and instruction and would probably help my self esteem so I don’t feel like a complete arse everyday.

Then there’s the intensely cheery co-worker who I like but consistently avoid on Mondays because I can’t do cheery on Monday. I can’t do it any other day but I’m better equipped to handle it on subsequent days. The Thursday cake-a-thons where I’m asked why I’m not stuffing my face (who doesn’t like a double dose of cream cheese at 10 in the morning?) and the conversation manipulators who insist on talking about why Coles Wherever is so much better because their deli section sells a rare type of olive (not joking, this was an actual conversation). And the two co-workers who sit nearby who whinge about everything from someone who sent an email with a spelling mistake to the sun shining too brightly through the window. The blind are therefore drawn at all times.

This all shits me because -

I don’t like forced cheery. Let’s calm down and have a laugh together about something.

Regular intake of bakery cheesecake cake will make you fat. That’s right, I said it.

Middle class snobs who don’t know they are middle class snobs shit me beyond words.

I’m all for whinging but can generally find some good in the world. And going outside will make you feel better. And by the way, I used to sit by the window. You can see the computer fine. There is no glare. Except from me.

Every year I promise myself to maintain the calm, holiday vibe but always find it simply isn’t possible. My only resolution for the year is to find a healthy balance for myself – to be fit, eat healthy and keep stress to a minimum. I’m assuming this will last about three weeks at the most.

Boner

I was standing in the meat section of the local supermarket yesterday, assessing different cuts of lamb and internally debating their merits when I was approached by an elderly gentleman. He looked in his seventies although I wasn’t paying much attention as I was engrossed in my meat evaluations. He ambles over and asks, ‘Is that a good one, love?’. I, in my distracted shopping state, inform him I am assessing the two cuts of lamb to discern whether one contains a bone. He laughs as if in on a private joke and wanders off. I think nothing of this until later, when I realise his question was prompted by the fact I was standing by the meat fridge, in a short sundress, squeezing a long lump of meat. And then replying I was searching for a bone. They seem to be in short supply because I think he was looking for one too.

Wishing you a kick in the pants for Xmas

It is my first ‘official’ day of leave and I wish I could say I am relaxed. Alas, I am not. Thursday night we came home to discover the house had been broken into. The being of both supreme intelligence and integrity mainly went through the bedroom, seemingly looking for money. They must’ve been incredibly disappointed because we just don’t stuff large bundles of cash in with our underwear, which is where they looked. Bizarrely, we keep our money in the bank and use one of those new fangled EFTPOS cards all the kids are into. Perhaps more people than I realise stash large amounts of cash in their house though.

They also went through all my jewellery and the only item they took was my late Nanna’s watch, which was worth probably the grand sum of about $50. I can be a hoarder when it comes to those little jewellery boxes and they looked in all the empty ones but didn’t seem to connect that they were empty because all the jewellery was (amazingly) in my large jewellery box. I have nothing of significant value, but they did bypass several gold rings, gold earrings, silver necklace, silver earrings and an expensive bracelet for a watch that had sentimental value only. Because it was in a box. Top work.

Other items worthy of nicking were the brand new GPS I bought Mr W&C for his birthday (which was that day. I’d only given it to him that moring), a Pandora gift voucher (since cancelled), my iPod (recovered – had it engraved), Mr W&C’s golf clubs (as a friends said, ‘You don’t steal a man’s golf clubs.That’s just wrong!’), some Xmas presents (also recovered – not sure why they decided to steal a fluffy cat toy or what they thought it would potentially be) and a bag for them to put it all in. Items which are apparently not worth stealing include a laptop, digital camera, wireless modem, digital set top box, TVs, DVD players, power tools, car keys or jar full of coins.

They didn’t even open the majority of the presents – they just took a couple, which they were clearly enthused about because they dumped them in the bush. They also dumped my iPod, either by mistake or because it was engraved with my name and phone number and they wanted something they could hock straight away. It is a lesson though and I am going out today to buy an engraver and start making a register of all our valuables. The iPod and presents were found by a woman who was kind enough to collect them up and call me so they could be returned. Always nice to be reassured that the world is not completely full of dickheads.

It has made me jumpy though. Mia is too, especially after her ordeal with EBC and the neighbours dog wandering into our house. We think she probably hid under the spare bed during the ordeal (or followed them around the house giving them a ‘what are you doing?’ look). I am scared to leave the house in case they come back for all the items they left. Particularly as we were the only house in the street targeted so it feels like we were being watched. Anyone walking past is given a suspicious eye. The feeling will pass though. Hopefully. I really need and want to relax but I realise I am sitting here, looking out the front window for any suspicious cars or people walking past.

Very upset about the watch, though. There is one faint glimmer of hope but I don’t expect anything will come of it… ok, I don’t want to expect anything will come of it but I can’t help but hope that maybe we will be lucky.

Evil Black Cat

On Sunday night, whilst eating dinner, I heard the unmistakeable sounds of cats fighting. Knowing one cat would be Mia, I raced out of the house to find her scrambling in the side garden with Evil Black Cat, which we have not seen for months. It stopped once it realised I was there and Mia took off for her impenetrable sanctuary (under the spare bed). I then saw EBC had a chunk of white fur in its mouth. Mia’s fur. Cue insane YOU TOUCHED MY CHILD attack revenge mode. I followed it over the low wall and into the neighbours yard all the time yelling at it. Once in the yard, it stopped, turned and just looked at me, whilst I continued to wave my arms around and scream at it. It wasn’t scared, or even concerned. It just looked confused. Eventually Mr W&C threw a thong at it and the cat departed with Mia’s fur and my dignity as surely the neighbours will now refer to me as that crazy lady who chases cats. Mia was fine. EBC only took fur and she has more than enough of that. I don’t know if I can grow my neighbourhood reputation back as ‘not insane’ though.