Dear Abby

If you're anything like any of my other friends, you're just about to ring me with your tale of woe. Before you do that, see below for some specifically tailored advice:

(Copy and paste into an e-mail/im chat window)

I have strong feelings for you. I believe that things could work out between us. I want you for more than just your sexual prowess/cool job/hot car/dvd collection/stunning good looks/fat wallet (delete as appropriate) and I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to prove it to you.

I'm sorry for running over your cat/telling your mother about that thing you did when you were 5/not having sex with you often enough/hitting on your best friend/drinking too much/working too hard (delete as appropriate). I may not have been acting like the best boyfriend/girlfriend in the world, but I'm willing to try harder. Here's a dozen long-stem red roses/a diamond ring/some movie tickets/a new car to make it up to you.

Let's hump now.

Like I said- specifically tailored.

P.S. I got the crossword out again today, and it's not even Thursday. Rounds of applause will be accepted.

Do I look more intelligent yet?

Last night I got home to receive a lovely parcel in the mail from my sterling recruitment agent. Rather than wads of money (as I was obviously hoping for, being that I’ve now been out working for them for a whole 2.5 days and I do feel that I’ve earned it) the package contained an inch-high pile of forms for me to complete. A furrow appears in my brow as I review the pile of forms. A sense of déjà vu descends and I know that I’ve seen these forms somewhere before…. Yes, I conclude, I have seen these forms before. In fact, I’ve already filled them in. When I originally went to the agent. Piles of forms, they give you. But I know I’ve already filled these ones in.

Along with the forms in the package, there is a note that says “Hi Jemima, If you could complete and return to me by Friday, it would be great. Signed, Sterling Recruitment Agent” (NB: At the time of me receiving the parcel, it is Thursday night.)

If only there were just a few more incompetent people in the world, so that I could look clever and smart in comparison, eh?

keep your drink just give me the money...

To all the people standing on the train platform, whilst I pissed
myself laughing this morning. (Oh, and the ones who were looking at me,
as I was still laughing walking up the main city street):

Yes, yes it was very funny.

You see a very good friend of mine who I haven't seen in literally years
has moved back to Melbourne and we caught up last night. It's just like
yesterday, the only thing that has changed is that we're a bit older and
wiser (but definitely no less wild and crazy.) So we've been spending
our days reminiscing about the things we used to get up to- each
reminding the other of the things that we'd forgotten.

And this morning I get an sms from her that reminded me of something
that I would never have remembered if she hadn't brought it up. You see,
we used to hang out at e55 a lot, drinking tllbs and just generally
having a good time. (In fact, we still do.) But there was this one time
(at band camp) where we got kicked out for being drunk. I always
remembered that we weren't really that drunk, but couldn't remember why
the bar guys thought we were drunk. But she remembered and sent me an
sms this morning- it was because we were in fits of laughter over this
man trying to show us his red pubic hair...

Yes, I'm sure we managed to flatten a man's ego that day.

Free Newspaper

I walk into my favourite cafe this morning and am greeted by a chorus of
"Morning Jemima!"s. I sit down, my latte arrives, and I start feeling all
warm and fuzzy. Definitely a nice start to the day.

There is only one problem with my favourite cafe, and that is they only ever
have one copy of the newspaper. Needless to say, someone else is always
reading it when I come in. I look around unobtrusively to see who has my
newspaper, in order that I may swipe it as soon as they are finished. (I
once suggested that someone should share the paper with me, but it didn't
end very well. Now I just try to be patient.) In fact, there are normally a
myriad of other bwankers also waiting for the paper, so we circle like hawks (but pretend we're not) waiting for the current reader to finish, ready to snap it up like a bum who spies a cigarette in the gutter with a drag left
on it.

I spy the culprit with the newspaper and cunningly sit down nearby. Simon,
the waiter, asks if I would like toast, and apologises that he is out of my
favourite juice. I am nonplussed and complain jokingly to the patron next to
me (incidentally, also reading a newspaper, but not the one that I like to
read; I mentally cross him off my list of competitors) about the lax
standards of the cafe. I add to the list of complaints the fact that there
is always only ever one newspaper, and lo and behold...

"Oh, do you want a newspaper? I have one right here, and I've already read it. Do you want it?"

And so, added to the warm fuzzy greetings, is a free newspaper. I even got
the crossword out (although admittedly, it is Thursday.) With all
these good vibes, there is just no excuse for it not to be a good day,
today. So please, please, no one come and fuck it up, k?

The Laminator

As a temp, you naturally get to do all the shitty jobs that no one else wants to do. So, off I walk to the shiny laminating machine a pile of crisp A4 sheets and laminating pockets in hand. Needless to say, I am thoroughly excited by the prospect of spending and hour or two feeding sheets through a narrow slot.

I line up the first sheet and feed it through, thinking about how much fun this is going to be. I line up the second sheet eagerly, ready to be fed through when the first sheet is finished.

I wait...

I wait a bit more....

I wait just a little bit more...

The first sheet never comes out. It is my second day, and I have broken the fucking laminator. And (even worse) now I have nothing to do.

temping

temping (v.) - Days of endless boredom, whereby one gets to paid to sit around and do nothing. Somehow, I get the strangest sense of deja vu...

The Swankiest Building in Town

Anyone who read yesterday's post will be aware that my routine was severely interrupted today by the fact that I had to actually go to work.

I got up this morning, and checked the address of where I had to go. I did a serious double-take when I realised that my assignment was going to be based in what is commonly known as the swankiest building in town. I opened my wardrobe and assessed my options. Did I have time to dash out and purchase that Armani suit I've been dreaming of? No, probably not. (Well, not if I wanted to fit in breakfast at Coco and morning tea at Strozzi.)

So, making do with a suit that I already owned, I strolled down to building swank, hoping that no one would notice that I wasn't wearing cufflinks. Imagine my surprise when I walk into the office to see girls walking around in havianas, singlet tops and faded polyester blend shirt dresses.... I tell you, it's all class here, boys and girls. Needless to say, I was the best-dressed person on the floor.

No... it can't be!

In an hithertoforth unprecedented manoeuvre, someone is actually offering me employment. It's only a for a few weeks, which will, of course, severely interrupt my latte and tequila routine. I guess there are some sacrifices that secretaries like me have to make for the greater good (by which I mean, an income.)

Of course, being engaged in actual work for a full 8 hours is not something I'm particularly used to, not having had to do it for a considerable length of time, now. Anyone that has any useful coping tips, should send them on through via the e-mail link, top left. (Nothing that involves goats, thanks.)

Stay tuned for exciting excerpts.

Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day

Look, if you're going to sit behind me at my favourite cafe, whilst I'm eating breakfast- could you please talk about something interesting? Your son Johnny, your fucked-up neighbours and your disrespectful teacher do not qualify. Alternatively, just speak at a few decibels lower so that I do not have to listen.

Much obliged...

*sniff* *sniff*

As I lean over to grab a tissue, I note with interest that I must have a cold. I look up from my laptop and focus on the temperature of the air around me. Yes, now that I stop and think about it, it is a little cold in here.

But the heating is on, I muse, so how can it possibly be cold? Oh yes... now I remember, the vent in this room is closed. Not closed by me, oh no, because (a) I can't reach the ceiling and, (b) being from a rather sunnier part of the world, I am quite content with the room temperature being at a level that others might possibly consider "too warm." (And apparently they did consider it to be "too warm" on one particular occasion, although the precise details of which, I have since forgotten.)

I've steadfastly been refusing to reopen the vent, as I was "not the one who closed it" and therefore do not see it as a task which I should necessarily be required to undertake. And yet, in the absence of the vent-closer, and not wanting to succumb further to a cold, I stomped off to get a chair in order to reopen the vent my-bloody-self.

Petty? Yup, and more than just a little...

The Original Jemima Jemima

There is a limited amount of material from the original Jemima Jemima that I can legitimately post here. Anything that is freely postable is below. Anything that isn't, is gone...


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Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Count up those notches, boys...
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and he was telling me about a work incident which I thought was worth blogging about...

Recently, my friend went back to visit the company that he used to work for. He found that nothing had changed and that the boss (in the style of bosses the world over) was still a dickhead. But here's the blogworthy bit- my friend says to me: "But I don't care, because I fucked his secretary..."

Need I say more?
posted by Jemima @ 7:47 PM


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Sunday, September 10, 2006
hey you! that's my computer, eh?
Ever come back to your desk and some strange person is using your computer as if it were there own? But what if they go
through your IE history and discover you've been surfing all those gambling/pornographic/non-work related websites? (Or in my case, they decide to check out "http://jemima-jemima.blogspot.com", have a sudden surge of intellect and then figure it out.... I realised the other day when the IT boy was on my computer by remote access [and checking my history], that Jemima Jemima just sounds way too much like Jenna Jameson for people to not be curious.) I know.

So I've been thinking long and hard about what I can do to stop people using my computer. There are lots of different, small ways you can do this, including things like, changing your cursor and taskbar location (already done, natch), and setting your left and right mouse buttons to "left-handed". But, this weekend, with the help of a good friend of mine, I've come up with a pretty awesome idea. (Okay, so it was his idea, but details, schmetails...) Detailed instructions, boys and girls, are listed below. Leave your money in the hat by the door.

Step One: If you have customised your desktop in any way, reset it. ie: ensure that you have a boring windows-esque wallpaper, move your taskbar back to the bottom of the screen, take it off auto-hide, and ensure your My Computer and Recycle Bin icons are visible.
Step Two: Take a screen capture of your plain-arse desktop.
Step Three: Move your task bar to the top of the screen and set it to auto-hide (no one will think to look for it at the top.)
Step Four: Make a new folder (leave it titled "untitled folder" so it's innocent) and move all of your desktop icons into it. Or better still, just get rid of all your desktop icons, altogether.
Step Five: Set your desktop wallpaper as the screen capture that you took in Step Two, and ensure it's set to "Fit to Screen" rather than "Tiled".


If this isn't just fucking brilliant- I don't know what is. Enjoy.
posted by Jemima @ 9:31 PM


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Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Can you think of anything better to do in the bathroom?
This event is surely in the running for the funniest thing that will happen all day.

I go to the bathroom, (as one does, after they drink coffee)... and a man walks in. Now normally, I'm all for men walking into the bathroom whilst I'm in there, but I couldn't quite summon the requisite feelings, following this:

Him: Is there anyone in here? [he can't see me because i'm in a cubicle around the corner]
Me: uhhh... yeah.
Him: I just need to replace the soap
Me: uhhh... ok...
Him: (singing loudly) Soap, soap, soap, just replacing the soap (lots of loud whistling)
Me: [in cubicle, trying v hard not to piss myself laughing. (Although, in the event that I do piss myself, I guess I'm in the right place.)]

Needless to say, I have to wait until he goes before I can walk out. Ten minutes later, writing this post, I'm still laughing.
posted by Jemima @ 10:35 AM


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Wednesday, August 23, 2006
turns out Dawn can do most of it anyway...
Someone said to me recently, that "Jemima" would make a good character for "The Office", which, if you weren't already aware, is one of my favourite tv shows. But I had to say: "Yeah, but this is my life... Jemima is me... it's not a tv show...."

Sad, isn't it?

thanks JB
posted by Jemima @ 5:15 PM


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Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Don't bother doing any real work- just pretend
Are you listening closely?

Step one: Set up your document holder with some handwritten sheets of paper in it.
Step two: Take your dictaphone headphones and plug them into your computer (the plug will fit- trust me.)
Step three: Listen to music or download some podcasts to listen to.
Step four: Type e-mails to your friends or chat on MSN.
Step five: Glance at the document holder every so often whilst typing.


Brilliance.
posted by Jemima @ 1:39 PM


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Monday, August 07, 2006
The curse of intelligence
No, really- wouldn't it be nice to be stupid for a while? Then I could get someone intelligent to do all my work, because I was just too stupid to do it myself. And still get paid. And then I could sit at work and do nothing all day.

Oh wait- I already do nothing all day...
posted by Jemima @ 4:55 PM


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Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays...
I've had a big weekend- by anyone's standards. I'm nearly going to tell you that it's nice to come back to work for a rest... but I wouldn't go that far.

It's always possible to feel optimistic on a Monday, wouldn't you say? Not that I ever do- I just think it's definitely possible. I mean, one could easily think (with two full rested days behind them) that Monday was going to be the day that they were going to start being conscientious. Stop playing mind games with their colleagues. Be nice to their boss. Be a team player. Stop finding problems and look for solutions. Try harder. And all of that...

...

Ok- well I gave it a good shot, but I'm still not inspired. Guess I'll go back to procastinating...
posted by Jemima @ 9:15 AM


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Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The one-oh-nine
If you know what the one-oh-nine is, then you’ll know what I’m talking about (and if not, like- omg, learn2google!*)

First(ly) there is always, always an abundance of “I’m so much cooler than you” school children. By this, I mean the type that actually believe that their lives are that much more interesting that yours. They feel obliged to share important facts, such as whether they have finished their geography homework, what they had for dinner last night and when the last time they tongued their bf was. Absolutely thrilling, let me assure you. Of course, perhaps if they spoke at just a couple of decibels lower, I wouldn’t be privy to this insightful and life-changing information. Just a thought, kids.

Second(ly), there is the homeless dude. Yes, I feel sorry for him, but is there really a need to shout obscenities at absolutely everyone? Especially when I am trying to read an intellectually stimulating book/listen to music/compose blog entries/do the cryptic/generally mind my own business and would dearly like some peace and quiet.

But (I feel obliged to mention, in order that I am seen to be unbiased on the subject) just occasionally, there are moments of greatness on the one-oh-nine. Take this morning for example- I spied a pair of tall, pale blue Doc Marten boots in an op shop window (hey, they would have been the height of coolness when I was 14.) And I’m seriously contemplating going back to see if they’re my size...

*a tribute to my dad- thanks for reading my blog :)
posted by Jemima @ 11:21 AM


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Sunday, July 30, 2006
The great injustice of being a secretary
It just occurred to me today... (ok, so maybe there is something even if it IS the weekend) that the benefits of being a secretary, actually aren't all that great. I mean, we get to do all the shit jobs ("Jemima, can you listen whilst I ramble ceaselessly on the dictaphone, work out what the fuck I'm saying, turn it into a meaningful piece of correspondence, correct all of my bad grammar and then send it to a client- thanks" AND we're expected to look good doing it.

When I wake up in the morning, do I get to choose between Bettina or Satch? No... (Just as an aside, I've noticed IT guys get to wear whatever they want- what's with that? Anyone know how I can achieve the mufty status of an IT guy?) I get to choose between a pant suit or a skirt suit, heels or tasteful flats, red lipstick or brown, a french roll or a ponytail. Now if I was the CEO or something, I guess I could understand- I mean I'd receive sufficient compensation for looking good, right? But I'm a secretary, for fuck's sake. I mean, I file all day- what's with the need to dress up, eh?

But there is a reason of course- and I know what it is. It's so that our SDS-suffering executives can play "my secretary is cuter than yours"....
posted by Jemima @ 6:15 PM

The Return of Jemima Jemima

So have you missed me? My heart goes out to each and every one of you. Especially those of you who have been unable to find other, more reliable sources of procrastination, and have been forced to undertake actual work, whilst on your employer's time. The truth is, darlings, I just couldn't stay away.

In case you missed it/ was wondering where my blog went/ or have just discovered this, I now, officially, do not work in the public sector. You heard correctly; I'm currently a lady of leisure and I have to tell you, it's very tough. Lying around, soaking up some sun, drinking copious amounts of coffee, playing... all very much like hard work.

I know you've all been concerned for my welfare, but truthfully, I am doing very well. So well in fact, that, whilst I'm technically now an "out-of-work secretary" my life is still full of such amusing anecdotes, that a resurrection of Jemima Jemima just seemed inevitable.

So what have I been doing in the weeks since you last heard from me? You will be impressed to know that in amongst the arduous tasks associated with "doing nothing", I have actually been looking for another job. Yes, my resume is all up to scratch, my reason for leaving the last job is cited as "need a new challenge" (rather than the slightly more accurate "need some new idiots to blog about"), and I've been hitting the recruitment agencies like an alcholic with a bottle of gin. It has been this flurry of activity that has led me to make a startling discovery, albiet one that I'm sure millions of people before me, have already made. Yes, recruitment agencies suck (and they're not even very good at it.)

But more about that later, eh? For now, isn't it just enough that I'm back? In true Jemima fashion, please stand by as I recount my endless trawl through the days of unemployment and bottles of red. Enjoy.