I have made an amazing discovery! I am against all previous conceptions not a misanthropist after all. I like people. Well some of them. I am still deeply sceptical of most. Hence it is most people I dislike, that leaves a few and they make all the difference in the terminology.
By the way I am pretty sure that working box office shifts in a multiplex can turn even the last "a person I don't know is just a friend I haven't met yet"-dellusionist into a more realistic judge of human potential. After being shouted at for sold out performances, age restrictions and broken computers extensively in this life, I am not fussed by that anymore. What is more depressing is being told off for showing films that aren't English. Honestly, the next time I hear the phrase "I'm not coming to the cinema to read" I might just get up and leave. "Why would they speak French? Surely they speak English and only the subtitles are in French otherwise it wouldn't make any sense" someone said to me yesterday with the sound of utter despair over my apparent stupidity in her face. I don't know, maybe it is me but I find it more unlikely that a French film would be shot in English and then subtitled for its home audiences. But what do I know? On an other occasion I was told that Mongolian is not a language and that I should just shut up. Ah well. So far I have kept my composure, smiled a lot and said "so sorry, okay then, bye bye" quite often. Unlike the colleague to my left who jumped up shouting "we don't use that sort of language here!" yesterday and started chasing some difficult looking teenage boys up the escalators.
Right. Now I have forgotten who the people are that keep my belief in mankind alive if only on a little flame. Reading Jeremy Dyson's short stories in my breaks helps. Reading an article about Tesco in the Oberver does not, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall however does. Oh and that woman who came to my till with her two sons asking me what the film Teeth is about did. "HULK" she screamed after I told her "We're seeing The Hulk boys, no discussions!"
Monday, 30 June 2008
Monday, 9 June 2008
Making Money
I am finally getting better at the "making some money"-front. Yes I have a new job. Hence the last couple of days where spent in a little, hot, windowless room filling in forms and learning how to lift a box. Ah the pleasures of Health & Safety. I won't go into those that would just be too lazy. Still they are entertaining.
I love new interview techniques by the way. Instead of talking to us, we have to talk to one another and then introduce our neighbour. Which brings me to the question: Am I the only one who is perfectly calm until the remark "to ease the tension we will play some little games now to get to know each other" falls? Seriously nothing makes me panic more. "Hi everyone, this is Peter, he is 23 and studies astro-physics. His favourite film is Dodgeball and he hates bees more than anything. His hobbies are movies, music and socialising and if he'd win a million pounds he'd quit this possible job straight away and buy loads of little blue plastic cows."
After surviving this part of the group interview it got worse, although I must stress how much I admire the determination of my new employer to go totally crazy on the funky new interviews. We got given paper, bin bags, glue and pens and had to design some clothes for one of us. Brilliant. My entire group got hired and may I ad, we rocked! Get us!
Slowly but surely the training days are over now and the job becomes less exciting and more necessary. Which is kinda sad.
All I remember from the extensive training is that should someone call and tell me that he has placed a bomb in the building I have to ask him his name, where he is at the moment, what this bomb looks like, where it is and when it is supposed to go off! Let's face it, these are all totally reasonable questions which you really should be willing to answer politely, after all we might evacuate the building just for you, so the least you could do it give up your name and adress. I hope I don't mess it up and say "Why?" should this conversation ever take place.
I love new interview techniques by the way. Instead of talking to us, we have to talk to one another and then introduce our neighbour. Which brings me to the question: Am I the only one who is perfectly calm until the remark "to ease the tension we will play some little games now to get to know each other" falls? Seriously nothing makes me panic more. "Hi everyone, this is Peter, he is 23 and studies astro-physics. His favourite film is Dodgeball and he hates bees more than anything. His hobbies are movies, music and socialising and if he'd win a million pounds he'd quit this possible job straight away and buy loads of little blue plastic cows."
After surviving this part of the group interview it got worse, although I must stress how much I admire the determination of my new employer to go totally crazy on the funky new interviews. We got given paper, bin bags, glue and pens and had to design some clothes for one of us. Brilliant. My entire group got hired and may I ad, we rocked! Get us!
Slowly but surely the training days are over now and the job becomes less exciting and more necessary. Which is kinda sad.
All I remember from the extensive training is that should someone call and tell me that he has placed a bomb in the building I have to ask him his name, where he is at the moment, what this bomb looks like, where it is and when it is supposed to go off! Let's face it, these are all totally reasonable questions which you really should be willing to answer politely, after all we might evacuate the building just for you, so the least you could do it give up your name and adress. I hope I don't mess it up and say "Why?" should this conversation ever take place.
Friday, 6 June 2008
the password is football!
Going to the hairdresser and demanding to be made to look like Debbie Harry.
I suppose we have all been there at some point in our lives. I did so last week. My hairdresser was a frightening lady who began with throwing her long hair all over my head to prove that her hair colour would be cooler on me than mine. Slightly grossed out and seriously panicking I managed to squeak "I'm okay for colour thank you" while inside my head a voice screamed "GET OFF!" She then continued to make several attempts to either pull off my head or at least cave in my temples while yelling at her assistant who was trying to retrieve an email for her. "You don't need to be online to get emails!" I attempted a half-hearted "well actually..." but was silenced by a severe blow to the head with a killer brush. "It's the email adress from the card and the password is football. FOOTBALL. I am sure that the password is football!" Man am I tempted to hack into those! I won't because, honestly? I really don't care.
My hair bravely withstood the attack and is actually looking pretty good. The only lesson I learned is not to give your hairdresser any excuse to say something along the lines of: "well it is kind of a punk look so it doesn't matter if it isn't symmetric, it is supposed to be a bit wonky." Is it now. Judging from my time in the salon I am convinced however that she'd have said the same thing had I demanded to look like Angela Merkel. Ah well.
I suppose we have all been there at some point in our lives. I did so last week. My hairdresser was a frightening lady who began with throwing her long hair all over my head to prove that her hair colour would be cooler on me than mine. Slightly grossed out and seriously panicking I managed to squeak "I'm okay for colour thank you" while inside my head a voice screamed "GET OFF!" She then continued to make several attempts to either pull off my head or at least cave in my temples while yelling at her assistant who was trying to retrieve an email for her. "You don't need to be online to get emails!" I attempted a half-hearted "well actually..." but was silenced by a severe blow to the head with a killer brush. "It's the email adress from the card and the password is football. FOOTBALL. I am sure that the password is football!" Man am I tempted to hack into those! I won't because, honestly? I really don't care.
My hair bravely withstood the attack and is actually looking pretty good. The only lesson I learned is not to give your hairdresser any excuse to say something along the lines of: "well it is kind of a punk look so it doesn't matter if it isn't symmetric, it is supposed to be a bit wonky." Is it now. Judging from my time in the salon I am convinced however that she'd have said the same thing had I demanded to look like Angela Merkel. Ah well.
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