where the fuck are you?

Sorry kids, I know it's been a while. The truth is that I did have a lovely job for a while that I actually liked and therefore never felt compelled to blog about.

But then they sacked me, which kind of burst my bubble.

The good news is that I have a brand shiny new blog over here. Yes, I'm moving to London and hope to see you all there.

Love Jem xx

Anyone else need their bag repaired?

I am working industriously as it is very busy at my work today. (So busy, in fact, that finding time to submit a blog entry is somewhat difficult. Never fear, though- I have conquered the laws of time and space to be here and write this entry.)

I have been charged with an important mission... to take my boyfriend's bag to the crumpler store for repair. It's a very important mission and I do not take it lightly. I have specific instructions:

1. The bag must arrive at the crumpler store at exactly 10:00am.
2. The bag repair dude must not have come to collect the bags prior to me delivering the bf's bag... I must check this, before dropping the bag off. If the repair dude HAS come, then I am NOT to deliver the bag. I repeat, NOT deliver the bag.

I glance at my clock and it is 9:59am. I stop what I am doing immediately (a very important memo, if you must know.) I dash up the street with the crumpler bag, bravely defying the rain with my lack of umbrella. I get to the store, and discover a mission-jeopardising fact: it is closed. It opens at 10:30am. I return to my office, a little more wet than I otherwise would prefer.

I get back to work, studious-like. I glance at my clock again and it is 10:31am. I race up the street, bag in hand. Having learnt from my previous experience, I take an umbrella, too. I get to the store, and notice that the lights are suspiciously dim. It is still not open. I kick and scream and curse my bf to hell a few times. A beautiful woman walks up to me, coffee in hand. "Don't worry, I am here!" Lucky I hung around to curse a bit, or I would have missed her. She has a lovely accent, and I am transfixed.

She hands me her coffee to hold whilst she opens the door. We walk in and I am surrounded by the glorious and colourful world of crumpler. She advises that the crumpler repair (dudette, in fact) has not yet been. (Thank goodness, or this would have all been for nothing.) I ask her about the timeframe of repair as the bf is adamant that he will only be without his beloved bag for one weekend. She leans over and whisper that there are no guarantees, but she will try her best... I hand the bag over regardless, so enamoured by her loveliness that I am no longer concerned about repair times.

I start to think nicer thoughts about my bf.

How to type an underscore

After at least half an hour and numerous restarts trying to walk someone through how to install Skype over the phone, we begin the arduous process of adding contacts:

Me: Do you know what an underscore is?
Nube: No.
Me: Do you see that button with two lines on it.
Nube: No, where?
Me: It's next to the + sign
Nube: It has two lines underneath the + sign
Me: No, that's the equals sign. The one you're looking for is next to the + sign.
Nube: To the right or left?
Me: To the left
Nube: Okay, that button has a big line and a little line
Me: Press the shift button at the same time as that button with the two lines on it
Nube: Oh.

stockingless!

Despite the fact that my current job is overly taxing and my boss is uber-friendly, I have made the hard decision to leave. I sure will miss my afternoons filled with showdown and skype emoticon messages, not to mention the sordid text messages from random men that my boss has given my phone nubmer to. But don’t worry, dear reader, I’m sure the next boss will be even more exciting and you will be delighted to read the amusing anecdotes that I shall regale you with.

Anyway, before I can get a new boss, it is vital that I get a new job. And, being the organized, secretary-type that I am, I have already put wheels in motion. Yes, you will be impressed to know that I have a job interview this afternoon.

In honour of said job interview, I am wearing my charcoal skirt suit (it’s only a titch more snug than I remember, and no, it’s still not Armani) and a white pinstripe shirt. I got dressed very excitedly this morning, pulled my hair into a slick French roll and went to put my stockings on… only to find that one stocking had a big ladder in it. (Seriously, how is it that stockings develop ladders when they are rolled up in your drawer??!) I ask the bf if he thinks I will need to wear stockings to my job interview. He answers in the affirmative. I panic for a bit, but then decide that it is not such a big deal as I will just purchase some stockings at lunchtime.

Lunchtime comes and I run down the street in a flash to get my stockings. I walk into a likely looking stocking stockist:

Me: Hi, do you have stockings here?
Her: Ummm… no, don’t think we do.
Me: Uhhh… right
Her: Perhaps you should try the $2 shop
Ok, I know I’m a snob, but I’m NOT wearing stockings from the $2 shop. I’m just not! I give her an odd look and walk out.

I try the chemist:
Me: Hi, do you have stockings here?
Her: Yes, just this way
shows me a wall of pantyhose
Me: Uhhh… you don’t have any actual stockings do you?
Her: Oh… no, actually we don’t.

I try the corner store:
I walk down every aisle, and twice down the one with tampons. There are no stockings.

So it transpires that I am stockingless… for my interview with investment bankers. Do you think I’ll get the job?

Friend or Foe? Boss or Pimp?

Again with the pimping me out.

This morning I go through my bosses appointments with him, secretary style.
Me: So, you've got your staff meetings, and then the external appointment with the website guy.
Boss: Jem, seriously, you have got to meet this guy- he's seriously hot. You'll have to ditch that other guy you're seeing.
Me: *sarcasm is the lowest form of wit* Really?
Boss: Look, I'm just putting it out there- he's hot, and he's gotta be better than the guy you're seeing.
Me: Uh huh.
Boss: Well, you make your own decision, he'll be here at 12:30.
Me: Is he nerdy enough do you think?
Boss: *incredulous look* He's a website guy.

At 12:21 the doorbell rings and, realising who it will be, I roll my eyes and dawdle to the door. It's just as I expected. He's a dorky nerd. Thank you boss.

A career-limiting move?

Boss: Jemima, you know I like to look after my staff...
Me: blank look whilst wondering "where the fuck could this possibly going?"
Boss: Well, you see...
Me: Yes....
Boss: I can offer you the best sex of your life...
Me: Riiiighhhttt.....
Boss: Oh, no, not with me.
Me: Uh huh.
Boss: I know a guy....
Me: Yeah... but no. Thanks for thinking of me and all.

From marble columns to seedy mansions

So. From the swankiest building in the city to the trendiest part of town... and already I've discovered one main difference.

First, a bit of background. I recently scored this job here at a small company. The temp job that I was doing in the city finished up and the lovely (but gay, remember??) man that I was working for referred me on to one of his clients. Hey- not like that!!! The thing is, I've met the people at my new office, and they are all very good looking, and even though I am a secretary of considerable means, I am quite sure that I don't stack up.

I get off the train and walk up the street to my new office. I look at my watch and realise that I have time for a coffee. A man leans out of a shop window with a coffee machine and I figure this place looks as good as any. I stop and order a latte, which is when I realise that I have been so engrossed in my book on the train that I have forgotten to do my make up! And, need I remind you that I must spend my day with glamourous people!!! Whilst the barista is making my coffee, I pull out my eyeliner, and glance closely at my reflection in the shop window. I follow it up with mascara and lip gloss.

And, wait for it, here's the point of this entire post- the barista hands me my coffee, looks at my eyes (freshly lined and mascaraed) and says to me:

Hey, that's a pretty good job. It normally me takes me ages to put on my eyeliner...

Yes, yes, I'm in the trendy part of town.