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May. 13th, 2011 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantym_56I have been snowboarding. I have had some success, although I think the board I was given was a bit short, or certainly it's shorter than I'm used to. I have met a chatty snowboarder! There's a girl working there who now knows me and she spent a good five or ten minutes rearranging the bindings to give me optimum turning power, talking me through what she was doing, giving me advice and generally being brilliant. What with Fiver yesterday and various people at the slope; I know there are people who do give a damn about how I'm doing and it's all the better that they're people I don't know very well and when I'm having a misery I should remember that. She was all full of encouragement and compliments and even ran over halfway through to spray my board with something slippery so I didn't get stuck on the muddy bits. This has been done to me once or twice before but usually it makes the board so slippery I promptly panic and can't do a thing. This time... well, I'm getting used to the idea that actually, the board isn't trying to kill me and we got on ok.
I have since discovered a scratch on my left shoulder, about an inch and a half long. Doesn't hurt but the skin's broken in a few places and it's very red. No idea what I did. I'm pretty sure it wasn't snowboarding. Pretty sure the only injury I did myself there was constant cramp in my right calf for a full half-hour. It used to happen every time I went snowboarding, only ever in the right leg, even before I'd chosen a dominant foot, even while I was still side-slipping. Hasn't happened for a while. I don't know what causes it but I know nothing helps. Even rubbing Deep Heat into it just makes it smelly without stopping the cramp. It stops the instant I get off the board and take the boots off, so I don't even know which of those two it is. It could be the angle of the bindings, the angle my leg's held at. Could be to do with the fact that I always walk up the slope, except that I've always done that and it hasn't caused cramp recently. So no idea why, but at least there's no long-term damage done.
I forgot to mention earlier - I went to see the doctor this morning to get some happy pills to take to Norway. Quite disconcerting for him to peer at the screen, say "Oh, I see you've been taking norethisterone" (yes, twice in my entire life, don't make it sound like I'm on it permanently!) "How is it? What do you do? Two a day?" and for me to have to explain to him, the doctor. I mean, the second time I went to get the prescription, about this time last year, the doctor I saw was the same one who'd prescribed it the first time and he also enquired about how it was but it seemed more like he's prescribed this many times but never really had any feedback on it. Today it sounded like this doctor had never heard of this medicine before. I know I have medical nerd tendencies (allergies, respiratory problems and diabetes particular interests, god knows why) but in general, I do like it to be the doctor who knows what he's talking about. And also Mr Doctor, ruling out the Pill because "if you don't need contraception yet"... what? I know I look a little younger than my age but I am twenty-five and it says so in the top corner of your screen. Do I look fourteen? I mean, as it happens, no, I don't need it but you're not supposed to assume that!
And finally before I go to bed, my sister has applied for a job in my company. We've got a second property and half the team's moving there. Basically, they need another slave to do all their work over there while I stay in the current building. So the job is a clone of mine. I had the delightful job of copy-pasting eighteen rejection letters this week and then enquired casually whether all the other applicants are getting interviews then? Yes, they are. Oh, I said. I know someone who'll be pleased to hear that. My sister's applied. The manager dealing with the process thinks about it and then says that he thinks he remembers. He did notice the surname but didn't think much of it. After all, there's another woman with my surname already in the office and we're not related, not least because she's French and I'm English. I'm not related to her husband either. So I know she's going to have an interview but I sort of feel it's his job to inform the applicants and so I haven't mentioned it. This was Wednesday afternoon. How long does it take to phone/email/arrange letters to the applicants? On the bright side, Mum has stopped asking if I've heard any more about "The Job". I was genuinely starting to feel like it wasn't my job anymore, like my job was merely to hunt down news of her job.
And can I also say this - I've seen the advert in the paper. The starting salary is the same as my current salary, which it took nearly three years to build up to and it says "to be reviewed after successful three month trial". I have access to our banking stuff. I'll know if she gets paid more than me. Fortunately, they should be aware of this fact. Also, I write all the letters. I will be writing letters to those who don't get chosen to say no and I will be writing a letter to the one who does get chosen and that letter will, naturally, include the salary. I will also write the letter in three months time to say "Congratulations, you made it past your trial and your salary will now double!" And then I will be furious, especially because at that point, I'll still be fucking training her/him. Because I have at no point been consulted on this job. I only know about it because it got mentioned in passing in a round robin email a couple of months back and I only know that it was ever actually advertised because I happened to answer the phone to the local paper the week after it went in. Officially, the first I knew of it was when I had to write the rejection letters. And yet I'll be the one stuck with the new person, teaching them how to do all the crappy jobs. "Here's the filing cabinets... here's the stationery cupboard... here's all the things no one else wants to do..." The number of times I've heard the immortal words "Oh, I'll just get [Phantym] to do it" drifting across the office. Bitter bitter office drudge, dreaming of better things.
That's the problem. I don't have much in the way of ambition. I don't have a "dream job". I'd like to be a tour manager for a comedian but I can also imagine being quite frustrated if one of my favourites was somewhere local and I had to miss out because I was with someone no one's ever heard of, at the other end of the country. That's a fucking pathetic reason not to go for it. How do you even go about doing something like that? What does "tour manager" actually involve? I'm a one-woman logistics team. There must be hundreds of people like me who want to do things like go to inhospitable parts of Eastern Europe on holiday. Get me to arrange those things. I'll even put you together a booklet with such vitals as "how to get to the hotel from the station". But I somehow imagine doing this for people on as much of a shoestring budget as me and somehow, paying someone to book your hotel and find some interesting things nearby doesn't fit in with the shoestring ethos. And people who can afford to pay someone to arrange their holiday wouldn't want someone like me. I seem to be saying I want to be a travel agent. In a way, but I don't want to be booking fortnights in Spain for people with children called Cressida and Rupert. That's not interesting. Single helpless females intent on going to Lithuania; obviously that's more my style.
But really, all I want to do is see comedy and go to bizarre places and if I have to be an office drudge to earn the pennies to do that, then so be it. That's all a job is, a way of making the money to do the things you really want to. Work to live, not live to work.
And with that kind of cheap philosophising, I should be off to bed. I have slept extraordinarily well the last couple of nights. Got up early this morning and was on my way to the doctor at 8.20am, an hour at which I am often still asleep. Benefits of working one mile away from home; I can afford to be lazy in the morning and not get out of bed until 8.30 if I really want to.
I have since discovered a scratch on my left shoulder, about an inch and a half long. Doesn't hurt but the skin's broken in a few places and it's very red. No idea what I did. I'm pretty sure it wasn't snowboarding. Pretty sure the only injury I did myself there was constant cramp in my right calf for a full half-hour. It used to happen every time I went snowboarding, only ever in the right leg, even before I'd chosen a dominant foot, even while I was still side-slipping. Hasn't happened for a while. I don't know what causes it but I know nothing helps. Even rubbing Deep Heat into it just makes it smelly without stopping the cramp. It stops the instant I get off the board and take the boots off, so I don't even know which of those two it is. It could be the angle of the bindings, the angle my leg's held at. Could be to do with the fact that I always walk up the slope, except that I've always done that and it hasn't caused cramp recently. So no idea why, but at least there's no long-term damage done.
I forgot to mention earlier - I went to see the doctor this morning to get some happy pills to take to Norway. Quite disconcerting for him to peer at the screen, say "Oh, I see you've been taking norethisterone" (yes, twice in my entire life, don't make it sound like I'm on it permanently!) "How is it? What do you do? Two a day?" and for me to have to explain to him, the doctor. I mean, the second time I went to get the prescription, about this time last year, the doctor I saw was the same one who'd prescribed it the first time and he also enquired about how it was but it seemed more like he's prescribed this many times but never really had any feedback on it. Today it sounded like this doctor had never heard of this medicine before. I know I have medical nerd tendencies (allergies, respiratory problems and diabetes particular interests, god knows why) but in general, I do like it to be the doctor who knows what he's talking about. And also Mr Doctor, ruling out the Pill because "if you don't need contraception yet"... what? I know I look a little younger than my age but I am twenty-five and it says so in the top corner of your screen. Do I look fourteen? I mean, as it happens, no, I don't need it but you're not supposed to assume that!
And finally before I go to bed, my sister has applied for a job in my company. We've got a second property and half the team's moving there. Basically, they need another slave to do all their work over there while I stay in the current building. So the job is a clone of mine. I had the delightful job of copy-pasting eighteen rejection letters this week and then enquired casually whether all the other applicants are getting interviews then? Yes, they are. Oh, I said. I know someone who'll be pleased to hear that. My sister's applied. The manager dealing with the process thinks about it and then says that he thinks he remembers. He did notice the surname but didn't think much of it. After all, there's another woman with my surname already in the office and we're not related, not least because she's French and I'm English. I'm not related to her husband either. So I know she's going to have an interview but I sort of feel it's his job to inform the applicants and so I haven't mentioned it. This was Wednesday afternoon. How long does it take to phone/email/arrange letters to the applicants? On the bright side, Mum has stopped asking if I've heard any more about "The Job". I was genuinely starting to feel like it wasn't my job anymore, like my job was merely to hunt down news of her job.
And can I also say this - I've seen the advert in the paper. The starting salary is the same as my current salary, which it took nearly three years to build up to and it says "to be reviewed after successful three month trial". I have access to our banking stuff. I'll know if she gets paid more than me. Fortunately, they should be aware of this fact. Also, I write all the letters. I will be writing letters to those who don't get chosen to say no and I will be writing a letter to the one who does get chosen and that letter will, naturally, include the salary. I will also write the letter in three months time to say "Congratulations, you made it past your trial and your salary will now double!" And then I will be furious, especially because at that point, I'll still be fucking training her/him. Because I have at no point been consulted on this job. I only know about it because it got mentioned in passing in a round robin email a couple of months back and I only know that it was ever actually advertised because I happened to answer the phone to the local paper the week after it went in. Officially, the first I knew of it was when I had to write the rejection letters. And yet I'll be the one stuck with the new person, teaching them how to do all the crappy jobs. "Here's the filing cabinets... here's the stationery cupboard... here's all the things no one else wants to do..." The number of times I've heard the immortal words "Oh, I'll just get [Phantym] to do it" drifting across the office. Bitter bitter office drudge, dreaming of better things.
That's the problem. I don't have much in the way of ambition. I don't have a "dream job". I'd like to be a tour manager for a comedian but I can also imagine being quite frustrated if one of my favourites was somewhere local and I had to miss out because I was with someone no one's ever heard of, at the other end of the country. That's a fucking pathetic reason not to go for it. How do you even go about doing something like that? What does "tour manager" actually involve? I'm a one-woman logistics team. There must be hundreds of people like me who want to do things like go to inhospitable parts of Eastern Europe on holiday. Get me to arrange those things. I'll even put you together a booklet with such vitals as "how to get to the hotel from the station". But I somehow imagine doing this for people on as much of a shoestring budget as me and somehow, paying someone to book your hotel and find some interesting things nearby doesn't fit in with the shoestring ethos. And people who can afford to pay someone to arrange their holiday wouldn't want someone like me. I seem to be saying I want to be a travel agent. In a way, but I don't want to be booking fortnights in Spain for people with children called Cressida and Rupert. That's not interesting. Single helpless females intent on going to Lithuania; obviously that's more my style.
But really, all I want to do is see comedy and go to bizarre places and if I have to be an office drudge to earn the pennies to do that, then so be it. That's all a job is, a way of making the money to do the things you really want to. Work to live, not live to work.
And with that kind of cheap philosophising, I should be off to bed. I have slept extraordinarily well the last couple of nights. Got up early this morning and was on my way to the doctor at 8.20am, an hour at which I am often still asleep. Benefits of working one mile away from home; I can afford to be lazy in the morning and not get out of bed until 8.30 if I really want to.
