Out To The Burbs

Sam had games to pick up he'd ordered online. So, like the good boyfriend of the non-driving boyfriend type, I had to drive him. So we had to drive to a couple of suburban shopping centres to pick the games up. Joy. These were games on special that were only available at the retail outlets. 

Ah, Northland, how I loath thee. These high rise shopping meccas are there places that are more awful than them? Shopping places? They are awful, really they are. The Great Unwashed converging, fighting for car space just to have the privilege of shopping there.

I took Otto, so he and I waited outside, so I didn't have to go in. No dogs allowed. You have to be suspicious of anywhere that has a no dogs allowed policy, I reckon. No dogs allowed, I don't want to go there either.

(did you know in some parts of Italy, you can take your dogs into the supermarket)

Otto and I went to the Chemistwarehouse. I can take him into the Collingwood, or Fitzroy Chemistwarehouses, how about Northland? I don't know, I didn't ask. We just went in. I wasn't sure if I was getting looks, or not, but the checkout boy didn't say anything, so I can only assume it was okay. I thought it was okay, so we were okay. Every thing was okay.

The last time I was in Chemistwarehouse, in Fitzroy, there was me and my dogs, and a woman with an Airedale. There was another woman standing in the middle of the entrance foyer having an absolute meltdown to who, I assume, is the chief pharmacist about dogs in the shop. She was borderline hysterical, as I walked past, at which point she turned from him to me and beseeched me not to bring my dogs into the space, to which I replied with, “Go get some therapy, luv.”

So, it makes you a little wary,

So, after our expedition to the suburban swell, we came home via Carlton and bought fish burgers & chips for lunch. Lovely. The Rathdowne fish & chippery makes the best chips.

The rest of the day was a breeze, pissing around at home.

Dinner. And fall asleep on the couch for a few hours. Lovely.

Milo's face

It's not quite that bad, but you get the picture

I'm up early. I make coffee and I sit on the couch.

Milo jumps up and cuddles up like he does every morning, getting in cuddles before the bulldog gets up and wrecks it.

He looks at me, and I look at him. The side of his face is swollen. Oh, really?  I say. Haven't we had enough of vets for this year?

Milo has twenty four legs when it comes to putting him in the cat box for a vet visit. It is just about impossible to get him in, so that will be a joy, I think, to come, very shortly by the look of his face.

First up, I need to make an appointment.

When I had a cat that used to fight all the time, the vet taught me just to find the scab abd pull it off, and that will usually allow the abscess to drain which is usually as good as any vet visit.

I got pretty good at it with my other cat. You just can't think too much about it, just find it and pull. It worked like a charm.

I feel around the side of Milo's face for a scab, much to his catty annoyance, but I can't find a scab.

Grrrr!

He jumps off the couch and heads for parts unknown.

No reply from Josh.

Well, That Was Easy

Boris replied to my getting out of me doing her job email while she is away with, Okay, thanks for telling me. No phone call, just the email.

It seemed like a completely unsatisfactory answer to what I felt was a major issue, all at the same time being the best response I could possibly wish for.

I wondered momentarily, if she'd misunderstood my email, due to the complete calmness of her reply.

I dunno. I guess we will see. Ha?

I spoke to her a number of time during the day and she never bought it up.

It was a busy day sorting stuff out for the new year and we had lots of interaction despite me being at home and her being, well, I'm not 100% if she was in the office, or at home, wherever she never bought it up once.

So, that is good. Job done.

No reply from Josh.

Snatching Victory from the Jaws Of Defeat

I woke up worrying about the decision I made to fill in for Boris while she goes away for her annual 6 weeks holiday back to LapLand every year.

I think she goes beginning of August.

Okay, yeah, sure, I said I would do it.

What was I thinking?

Monday we had to have a meeting with the Big Poo and The Midget because HR's FishFace in Sydney escalated an issue to the both of them relaying her serious concerns, about a practise that we have always done.

Now, I'm not saying FishFace is a problem often forgetting procedures, or long standing practises that we have, no I'm not saying that.

(She is a fucking problem, that is what I am saying, let's be clear)

Anyway, that bought into sharp focus how I so don't want to work any more than I am doing now.

The PonyTail in Melbourne is also a problem.

You can add that to the fact that in the last 12 months HR has replaced existing staff with know-all millennial, straight out of uni not-actually-knowing-anything types who are all about promoting their own careers in the process of their day to day work, who will push every issue to the nth degree to get the answer they want, even if the answer they want is wrong. Couple this with The Midget's personality altering promotion in the last year where she micromanages us all now to an unbearable degree. Add to that we are now expected to turn up to the office 3 days a week if we are working full time. 

Boris and I say to each other regularly now that working for our company has almost become unbearable. The work/life/enjoyment has seriously deteriorated in the last 12 months, or so.

And I am beating myself up for the terrible mistake I made agreeing to work full time and take on her responsibilities, juggling HR/Finance/the Partners in a deteriorating environment for 6 weeks.

I sat in my lounge room at 4am (yesterday afternoon when the realisation hit me, I lay on the couch with Otto and dosed off in front of the open fire. Sam woke me at 5pm when he came home. I stayed awake long enough to eat dinner, but then went back to sleep until 11pm when Sam woke me to go to bed. So I had slept a lot) this morning writing out my resignation letter.

There is another minor issue too. They don't pay me a higher pay rate when I do holiday relief for Boris, my boss, which I don't care about, I get paid well. But, this year, I also didn't get a pay rise, or a bonus, either. The Big Poo called me and apologised personally for that, something about he pushed for it, but HR knocked it back. Really? Straight out of the mouth of the CFO of the Southern hemisphere. Really.

There I am working my 3 days, going to the office one day, not needing, or wanting to, do any more than that, being happy enough with my lot (despite the whinging) as it stood.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?

You idiot! You idiot! You idiot! You idiot!

So, letting Boris down because I said I would work, withstanding, at 6am, I wrote out an email saying that I had changed my mind and that I no longer want to do her holiday relief, rather than resigning all together.

She's got 4 to 6 weeks to sort out an alternative.

And although I feel bad about my lousy timing, I'm sorry, but it came down to me, or Boris in the end.

Weirdly, I won. 😐

She is going to be pissed off, sure. Oh why didn't I just say no 2 weeks ago. Stupid me. 

Wet Tuesday

Sam went to his office early. Charlie dressed up in his Nija outfit and rode off on his bike to parts unknown. So, I was home by myself for the day.

Lovely. I don't hate that.

Mid morning I went to the bakery and got a muffin.

Just after I'd finished the muffin, Tattslotto sent me a message about a 40 million dollar draw. Stop sending me this shit, I thought. I'm not wasting any more money.

The rain fell all day, kind of dribbly non-stop depressing wet and grey really.

Late morning, I went to the Tattslotto shop and bought a ticket in the big draw, as advised. I so want to give up work and put my feet up. You know, I actually win enough so as not to make it a total loss.

I walked to the shop in the rain. I don't mind walking in the rain. I can hardly say it was romantic when I am doing it on my own. Hey?

It's my end of month, as much as I have an end of month, so I got that out of the way and clocked off at 2.15 with a heated up chicken curry for lunch.

I lit the open fire and Otto and I are on the couch together. The rest of the afternoon on the couch, you have to love that.

puffing up some pillows as I type.

The rain is still falling.

I should go to the gym, it is my gym day. The rain falling outside is hardly enticing. Nah, I'm not going, I'm too comfortable.

No response from Josh, but that isn't surprising. Apart from the fact that he may have hated me, it was an old hotmail email address. Does anyone have hotmail email adresses any more?

In The Office Monday

Monday, in the office day. BooHoo. I'm up early as per usual, getting ready in the day. Otto has developed this funny habit of suddenly getting all excited when I am up getting dressed to go to the office, as though, you know, I have just come home, or something. Suddenly, 35 kilos of dog is wiggling at me in the dark

I'm making breakfast and, of course, the rain starts to fall. Jasus! I momentarily consider pulling the 'its raining, I'm working from home' trick, but it is just a fleeting thought.

And I don't stay home. 

The rain stopped.

And I went to the office. It is still dark when I leave the house.

Er. Kill me now.

Totally pointless. I do exactly the same things, but I have to leave the house and spend time getting there to do the exact same things.

There are lots of beefy blokes in hiviz on the tram early in the morning.

Josh

Reading back over my old blog posts not only have I reacquainted myself with my old mate Tom, I have also read back over old writing from my old mate Josh.

Josh and I had a falling out 15 years ago and we haven't spoken since. It was kind of dumb, the falling out. I thought he used me... three times. He may, or may not, have been in genuine need when I felt he tried to use me for a fourth time, and I refused to help him. He may have felt I betrayed him. Oh, you know, something along those lines.

Neither one of us has contacted the other since.

We used to write each other wordy emails, which we thought were clever, we both thought the other one was clever.

I did try to contact him through Facebook a number of years ago, but nothing came of it.

I might be able to remember his old email address, I might, would he still even have the same address. He now lives in Berlin.

I wrote the below email. I'm going to send it to what I think was his email address.

It took me all of 5 minutes to write, so I have really nothing to lose.

Let's see what happens.

Hello.

Say hello.

I just said hello.

Hello is always a good way to start.

I did.

And?

And what?

What happened?

Well, nothing. 

Nothing happened?

Nothing happened.

No?

No.

Well, that is hardly ideal.

No, not ideal at all. 

No, not at all?

No

Well, say hello again.

Hello. 

Not to me.

Oh.

A-ha.

Hello.

Still nothing?

Still nothing.

Well, do you think you are getting through?

I don’t know.

You don’t know.

No. 

No?

No.

Well, did you ask for someone intelligent.

Not yet.

Is there intelligent life?

I don’t know.

You don’t know?

No. 

No?

Who knows.

Well, again, not ideal. 

Well, why don’t you do it. 

No, you do it.

I am doing it.

Not very successfully.

No, I know that.

Well, as long as you know that.

What would you suggest? 

Oh, tell him this may well be the last transmission.

The last transmission?

Yes, the last transmission.

Oh, okay. 

What else would you call it?

An apology.

Oh, no, I don’t think I’d call it that.

Wouldn’t you?

No.

No?

Never eulogise or apologise.

Never what?

Eulogise…

Eulogise? 

Or apologise.

What? 

The Queen mum.

The Queen mum?

The Queen mum.

The old dear with a gin? 

That’s the one.

You mean complain, or explain. 

Oh… yes.

Well, I think a certain amount of explanation may well be in order.

Really?

Yes 

Really? 

Oh?

Tell him you are dying.

Dying? 

That always makes people get a wriggle on.

I’ll just say we are the last people alive and…

Alpha Centauri to the mother land.

This is all we can manage now.

All we can manage

The years go slow, but times passes quickly. 

Never the less.

Never the less.

He clicks his fingers.

Transmission ends.