WARNING: This entry contains a lot of moaning.
"Sorry your desk area is so small...you must feel like you're working in a chicken coop."
Yes, I'm back in an office. Bummer. But beggars can't be choosers so I took this temping job and have been doing it for the last few weeks. The silver lining on this cloud, though, is that it's data entry...the dream! Very easy, and I'm able to switch off my mind for about 8 hours a day.
The data that I'm entering are the comments of customers that have bought cars or had their car serviced. Some of these comments are absolutely ridiculous, such as "There aren't enough places to put my sunglasses." and "I had an allergic reaction to the complimentary flowers." While others paint a vivid and poetic picture of someone who has too much time on their hands trying to buy a car....my favourite:
"A hum of activity could be heard behind the mirrored doors. The atmosphere felt cold and clinical. The customers were reacting as if in a doctor's waiting room - quiet, nervous, fearful and unhappy."
I think that guy's writing skills are totally wasted. Other people are simply just idiots, writing pages of useless comments, and filling out a simple form incorrectly. How hard is it to tick a box? It's worrying that some of these people with little or no brain power are driving their $30,000 cars in residential areas where children play.
I really would rather not be working in an office, but the fact that it's temporary gets me through the day. And, I don't have to talk on the phone which is great. Also, my dealing with management is minimal...thank Gods. Although I do have to overhear them sometimes...these managers sitting on the edges of other people's desks, talking at each other, throwing ridiculous buzz phrases, skirting around unimportant problems, and making obvious deductions (which every non-managerial 'runt' already knew but couldn't care less about), as they continue to eminate an air of arrogance, ignoring the temp, and all the while wondering where they should purchase their next platter of sandwiches to stuff their faces with at the next McMeeting.
They don't even bother to introduce themselves to me because I'm a temp. All the permanent staff have name plates stuck on their computers, so all the managers think my name is 'IBM'.
We are living in an absolutely wicked house. It's just gorgeous, and cheap, and I'm totally chuffed with it. The housemates we moved in with are really sound, although a couple have since left and have been replaced with newbies who also seem sound.
One of the people that left was a Welsh girl with a very real, very surreal, fear of all Jim Henson creations. She was totally petrified of Muppets, and I couldn't wear my Sesame Street t-shirt around the house.
Now, half the people living in the house are German girls...one of which is so hot it would make you cry. Ich bin ein wouldn't stand a chance.
December, the best month in the world ever, is just around the corner and I'm counting the days until all the big events, including the arrival of:
Maxi & girls in 31 days
Brian Malone & Ciara in 39 days
Lynn & Ed in 48 days
It's 6 months today that I've been in Australia (wow!) and I've begun to think about 'where next?'. This coincided with the depressing U.S. election result, which is highly relevant since the more countries Bush invades, the less countries I can visit.
An ongoing topic of conversation here is "Sydney or Melbourne?"...which numerous Syndey-ites have asked me, and I'm going to have to say, so far, Melbourne. Melbourne is just cooler. Nobody there seemed to care which was better, while people in Sydney seem like they're always trying to compete.
I said I preferred Melbourne to Mick Power one day and he replied, "Yeh, but Melbourne doesn't have this!" as he spun round and gestured to the river and the opera house. It was such a grand gesture that it would have looked more at home within the opera house rather than outside it.
And that's it. I think everyone here is clutching to the fact that Sydney has a nicer view. It's like when I was a kid and had a rats-tail. Sure, I thought my hairstyle was glorious...but it didn't change the fact that I was a twat.
Actually, it's not like that at all.
I said in my last entry that it was great to get to NSW from up North, as there are no flies. I was wrong...there's loads of flies in town. It's really annoying. As someone described it: they buzz in your face and nobody else can see them so it just looks like you're making a really spastic face as you walk down the street, and everyone thinks you're waving at them.
Besides the flies, I think Sydney is alot like Dublin, which is probably why so many Irish get trapped here. It's not the cleanest city. I nearly stepped in sick the other day...it reminded me how you know it's Friday in Dublin when you're walking to work and there's puke all over the streets from Thursday's student nights.
The weather has been very unpredictable. I looked at the Dublin weather the other day and it is, of course, worse. It was described in one word: Drizzle. I haven't heard that word since I left Dublin. Ireland truly has made 'Drizzle' it's own.
The public transport is rubbish (like Dublin). Mike asked a ticket master the other day why his train went past his stop...his reply:
"Sometimes they just change their minds at the last second. Sometimes they let me know and if they do, I'll let you know."
We're not there yet...
Ahhh, sorry for the anti-Sydney update. I'm still having a great time. It is good fun. I love it really.
Dingo has given up the ghost completely now. She won't even start. But we're not saying our goodbyes yet...we might get it fixed. We owe it to her. She's a beautiful, loving car which has absolutely loads of places to put your sunglasses.
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