Monday morning, the alarm seemed to sound too soon. I’d woken a few times during the night in the wee small hours, still with plenty of luxurious time to sleep some more, still with plenty of night ahead of me. Lovely.
At one time, Sam and I were awake together and I started to chat to him.
He shhhh’d me each time I said a word.
Then his finger was making a straight line across my lips.
I chatted some more.
“Don’t speak,” he whispered, putting words to his actions.
He told me "what for" in the morning. “What were you thinking?”
He’s no fun at all. I don’t mind waking up and chatting, it makes the night seem longer, it makes it seem more… more and more.
He and I got up when his iPhone sounded its gentle alarm. The next thing we were standing together in our dressing gowns in the kitchen bleary eyed. It was very quiet and dark. Then Sam is giving me directions on how much muesli I should pour into his bowl.
“Not too much! Not too much!”
In no time we were walking along Gertrude Street together in the cold. It was a winter’s morning, that’s for sure and it was disappearing quickly. Slipping away.
I put money on my myki card at the milk bar. The nice lady behind the counter had to get her glasses out of her bag to complete the transaction. I wondered what she had done up until that point during the morning? Think they open at 7am, had she done nothing for an hour?
I caught a tram. Sam continued walking.
I was stressing big time, freaking out, I felt like I didn’t know anything, that I was an ignorant expert on the brink of being found out.
The one thing I was thankful for was that the first EOY assignment was (the name of the client), my familiar assignment on my own, to learn.
It turned out to be easy, easy peasy. Once we got over the hurdle of me checking the system version number, and missing the fact that I got it wrong, and it hadn’t been updated… and having a problem because of it and the ensuing drama on the phone to (the name of my company) until they twigged as to what the problem was.
Once we got passed that, it was easy, a piece of cake, what I was stressing about I have no idea.
Stupid though, a stupid mistake that will not do my reputation or my confidence any good. I know I made it because I was stressing.
Gotta stop stressing, because I really do know what I am doing.
I just need more work so I can learn the new system back to front.
I used to just power though this stuff without any worries, once. I never made mistakes because I never used to stress about stuff. Everything was good, my confidence used to equal my ability. I’m still not back to the levels of confidence of before the black law firm’s betrayal. I now know that you can be sacked, gotten rid of, if you produce good work or bad, it doesn’t have to make a difference. The corporate world is full of poison, you can never underestimate it.
I checked everything with (the name of my colleague). What EOY reports she wanted. She didn’t ask for the super report and I didn’t print it, but I think I should have. She is, presumably, going to need it. That was stupid, I shouldn’t try to be so clever.
She ran through some mistakes from last week, but she and I had done those transactions together and I pointed that out to her and she soon shut up about it. That is, of course, still not good. That is not a correction, or good work done, it is simply a deflection and you can’t continually get away with that. Eventually, you get found out as a fraud, as hopeless. She could still blame me without me knowing that she has, to my boss in my appraisals. I hope she doesn’t.
Fuck! I’m still learning, I really am. On the job with all the mistakes that go with learning that way. The hope is though that the ratio of mistakes made never exceeds the number of praises given, naturally.
Come on knowledge (of the system) come to me quickly.
The funny thing is, that really, I feel that I have done relatively poor work for them (extenuating circumstances with standing, the fact they didn’t have the knowledge to instruct me properly) and yet they keep asking me back
I dropped an enormous log in the dunny, halfway through the morning. One of those unbelievably long ones that coils in the bowl on a seemingly never ending cable.
(the name of the client) always makes me take a dump, usually two of three times. It seems to be a natural laxative, like the RMIT Building is the brain tumour building. The (the name of the client) building is the shit building. It is too simple an explanation that it is a comment on the organisation.
I wonder if it is the instant coffee?
I was finished there at 4.30, so I headed home early. The afternoon was cold and dull. One thing, the mental St Kilda Road tram was quite at that time. I walked from Swanston Street, just trying to get some exercise in. Don’t they say that walking is the best exercise? Despite my office shoes not being the best for walking.
Immediately, as I start to walk up the hill, some bitch with a nasal voice was talking loudly and excitedly to her male companion, a few steps behind me. They were keeping pace with me. My pet hate! Of course! That’s what you get for doing the right thing and hoofing it up the hill instead of picking the easier option of the tram. Why me, I think. I risk life and limb and run across Russell Street just as the lights change to escape them. So do they and we are stranded on the centre island together. Yabber, yabbber, yabber. No use getting angsty. Don’t be a complainer, as Sam would say. Getting fatter and grumpier, the woodman’s words come into my head. So, as we reached the other side, I dropped back and let them get a head. When they got to Market Lane, something down there attracted their attention and they stopped, proceeding again up Bourke just as I got level with them. Then they fell into step just behind me, as her screech threatened the sanctity of my eardrums once again. They turned left into Exhibition Street just as I was contemplating running out into the Exhibition Street traffic.
I don’t know why it is always girl’s with annoying voices walking behind me, usually on a phone, talking loudly. Of course, this can’t be true. Girls don’t have monopoly on being annoying, boys can be just as annoying. Maybe it is because girls have higher pitched voices and I find them less appealing? Is it because I am a big homo and I am prepared to forgive men more because of the promise of a bit of cock? Maybe it is because girls have been taught over the last fifty years of women’s lib that they have to speak up to get somewhere? Maybe girls just like to talk more? Supposedly, that is meant to be true, although I have always assumed it was a stereotype? Maybe not.
The house seemed unnaturally still when I got home. The light had just turned from day to the first blush of evening. Winter heading towards dusk.
I headed to bed early, it was cold and wintery and grey. I watched TV wrapped up in my doona with my laptop on my lap. I love it, it is like my warm comfy safety pod.
I ate the left over noodles from last night. They were yum. Are they better the next day too? You know, like lasagne? I didn’t warm them up until after Masterchef, when Shane is home and sitting in the lounge watching TV. He is very chatty and seems to want to talk, like everything is back to normal. I still take my dinner back to bed, because I am comfortable there and it suits me and I like it and it is about me and not about Shane.
He is sitting I the lounge room with a blanket and no fire. Still, after all this time, it would appear that a fire is beyond his capabilities.
I sorted the paperwork and directions for tomorrow’s job in Port Melbourne. It’s always good to get the names, address and charging details on to a piece of paper before I go. I have decided that I can, at least, be that organised. I can be, at least, that much less than totally slack.
I spoke to Mark on Skype. He said he missed me. He said he felt like he was never coming home.
Mark had posted some new photos on Facebook, so I signed in to see them… and then Perry was messaging me at the same time.
And then Mark’s diner was bought to him on a tray by one of his staff and he had to go.
So… I spoke to Perry.
G/day Christian
Perry
Hey Perry, how are you?
Christian
Pretty darn good my friend, loving life despite winter!!
Perry
I'm good too. It must be cold this year though because for someone who doesn't feel the cold, this last week, or so, I have been having dinner and then getting into bed to watch TV
christian
Sounds like a typical night for me Christian, love my bed and TV and warm doona… only stay up to play FB…
Perry
I think my bed is now my favourite thing
Christian
Do you have an electric blanket?
Perry
No, I hate electric blankets, always have. I actually like getting into cold sheets and going brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and wrapping myself up in the bed clothes
Christian
Whatever rocks your boat, I like a cold room with a Goose down doona
Perry
that sounds lovely
I'm liking going to bed earlier
and falling asleep in front of the TV
Sam thinks it is terrible
Christian
Not that this is a competition but is 5pm a winner?
Perry
maybe not quite that early š
but home, dinner and off to bed, certainly
shut the cold world out
Christian
We are so in tune with each other...bit spooky really!!
Perry
21:50
š
Christian
Nite
Perry
sweet dreams
Christian
I feel I have been a little estranged from Perry of late and it is nice to chat to him, but I am not sure if the standard of that conversation is really going to cut it, is really going to enhance our friendship any. I’m sure it is too stilted and too strained for that.
Missy came in late and lay in the middle of my bed purring loudly.
I got sleepy and drifted off to sleep watching teev. I love that feeling, it is, almost, my favourite thing to do. That lazy, sleepy, drifty kind of feeling. I dragged my sorry arse out of the bed at midnight to close my laptop and put it away safely. Sometime after that, I switched off the light and was asleep in no time.
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