Tag Archives: reality check

An Odd reaction

When I was in Sainsburys I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.

Now, she’s always been a bit unconventional and not in the “dye your hair odd colours and live off an artists wage” way.  More in the “self-absorbed” way. (Coming from someone who writes a blog purely so she can bitch about how life is so cruel this is rich, I know. But this is my blog and I will write what I like!)

I was on my way in, pushchair loaded with children, when I saw her at the self check-out.  I couldn’t decide whether to talk to her or not.  One day I’ll go into the history behind my friendship, but this is not that day.  Remind me though.  It’s another self-indulgent ramble.

Anyway, turns out I didn’t need to make that call as she came over to say hi.  I’m not entirely comfortable when this happens and I tend to get a bit hypersensitive.  (Really?! I hear you cry. You?! Oversensitive?! I don’t bloody believe it!  Well, it’s true.)

Me: hey!

Her: hi! Is this number 1 or number 2?

She points to The Toddler

Me: Number 1. Number 2 is under there.

I point out the much hated baby under arrangement.

She smiles and says “I’ve gotta go, I’m on my way to a funeral.”

“Oh no!” I say, pulling my I’m so sorry face. I hate saying I’m so sorry. This comes from when I used to work at British Gas. Obviously, when you’re dealing with gas and electricity bills, you have people tell you that the owner of the property they are calling about has passed away. You are trained to say “I’m so sorry”. For this reason, I just cannot say it. It sounds so trite. I’m not very good with grief anyway. One day I will talk about my highly inappropriate reactions to emotions, but not today.

Back to the story.

In response to my poor response about the funeral, she goes “yeah, it’s a bit sad. Anyway, gotta go.” and dashes off.

A bit sad?

I need not have worried about my “Oh no!” *sympathetic face* if she was just going to be “a bit sad” about it!

Advertisements

Baby jabs – Part 1

What happens when you phone our Drs surgery for an appointment for baby jabs

*RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING.*

Receptionist: hello, Drs surgery, how can I help?

Me: I need to book o in for jabs.  I have the letter…

R: are you sure you phoned the right number?

Me: yes

R; this is the general enquiries number. I can’t get to the computer to book it from this phone.  You’ll have to call back on the appointments number.

*click*

Me: *phones appointments*
ENGAGED

Me: *phones appointments*
ENGAGED

Me: *phones appointments*
*RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. RING RING.*

Phone is answered by receptionist who sounds suspiciously like receptionist who told me to phone back.

R: hello Drs surgery, how can I help?

Me: I need to book Oscar in for his jabs.  I have the letter.  We also need to have our 6 week check.

R: certainly. 3.20 monday for jabs.  Someone will call you back about the check.

Me: kthxbai.

W T F.

The dangers of blogging

I fear I may have made a bit of a faux pas.

You see, the other day, I emailed someone who is quite central to some very important decisions for me (a similar thing happened last time I was on mat leave) but I left the link to my blog on the replying email.

Then I had someone go through my entire blog.  Cue Paranoia.

Paranoia:It was her, she read through your blog.  It’s why she hasn’t replied.

Rational: she’s busy.  That’s why she hasn’t replied.  And her being busy is a good thing.

Paranoia: She’s decided she wouldn’t want someone with your temperament sullying the good name of the occupation.

Rational: Ok, so you had some shit days.  We all have shit days.  So what?  You just aren’t afraid to talk about them.

Paranoia: She’s sorting out a visit from social.

Rational: Even your health visitor isn’t doing that! She’s most likely talking to some people in the area so she can give you more info.

Paranoia: You’ve totally screwed up your chances.

Rational: The blog is about personal stuff.  Not business.  Business would require a new email which is unrelated.

So, should I censor what I write about? No. This is my space which gives me my freedom to write about my opinions. No one should be able to take that away.

Should I go careful before sending emails with the blog address in the signature? For sure.

Lesson learned.

52 weeks

As I will be discussing some work related bits and bobs over the next few weeks and don’t want to keep repeating myself, tonight’s blog is to tell you about my maternity arrangement with my employer.

I started my current job in February 2009 as a temp.  There were some politics involved in my appointment but they are for another post.

Anyway, I was pregnant at the time and, as I’d suffered as part of the first wave of recession redundancies, was just glad to have a job.  They made me a permanent member of staff on the 1st of April 2009.

I left for maternity leave the first time on 17th July 2009 but didn’t qualify for maternity pat from them, so I claimed statutory maternity from the government for 9 months and returned to work three days a week in April 2010.

This time, I left for maternity on the 11th of April 2011 and as I had served over a year (they count maternity leave as continuous employment) I qualified for full pay for six months…provided I return and serve 52 weeks.

So, there you have it.  We needed the full pay, so I had to promise to go back for 52 weeks.  If I decide not to return now, I have to pay back everything paid to me above statutory, including pre tax and tax and NI deductions.

I think I made the wrong decision.

On blogging

About ten years ago, before I really understood that very few people are lucky enough to be able to make a living doing something they love, I had aspirations to become a writer.

I was a bit of an “artsy” child; drawing, music, creative writing, clothes making…you name it, I’ve dabbled in it.   I was never really great at any of it.  Well, music, but that’s probably a topic for an entirely separate post.  I would have killed to have a blog space to express myself and write my crappy stories and articles.  I did do a few submissions for magazines and was politely rejected.  Now I see why.  See, I’m just not very good at it.

I can happily ramble on in my blog about the Toddler or the OH but, having read some other absolutely fantastic blogs, I understand why people aren’t really interested.

I’m not going to stop, I just wish, as my school reports used to say, I could do better.