Grumpy! But consistent!
Once upon a time, back in the day of when I worked in clubs, I had a habit of standing near the ‘doorbitch’ off to one side.
Actually, at this point I should explain the ‘doorbitch’ was generally the ‘hot-sexy-chic’ with attitude outside checking for suitable clientele to be allowed into the venue. In this case, I am referring to the other ‘Hot-Chic’ who did none of the ‘take your money’ and give you other kind of attitude.
I used to stand to one side of her to wait for my friends to greet people I knew and assure them the next level of the club would soon be open and sometimes to give my drink-card to a grumpy patron who didn’t want to wait for their favourite DJ/floor to be open for their pleasure.
Sometimes, I stood there to be protective of the doorbitch, so I could do ‘Grumpy’ when anyone wanted to give her attitude.
Seriously! You have just walked up three flights of stairs before even paying any money! All you need to do now is pay some money (very little, really) then proceed to the bar (over-there) The DJ booth (over-there) and the dance floor (over-there)!
Have a good night!
Why the attitude?
So at times I enjoyed doing the stance of feet apart hands behind the back, polite smile but occasional snarl. Sounds bitchy – don’t I?
My boss came up to me and told me he ‘wanted me out there!’ Talking obviously, circulating and whatever.
And quite frankly, I’d been there from 9pm, I would still be there at 5am! And sometimes I didn’t want to have to be prostituted and paraded all fucking night so I would pick and choose my time Thank-you!
I would wander off to have it seem as if I was doing his bidding, but after I had done the rounds I would return to be told by the ‘doorbitch’ she didn’t care what the boss had said, she appreciated me being there. It made her feel ‘safe’!
The message here is ‘sometime you just need someone to stand out and do silent and overbearing grumpy to make sure people do their job/or just be a decent human being in this case.’
And then there’s today’s dilemma.
Tomorrow, I’m doing a day of training! A whole day! I know exciting!
Its training so I can sit on committee’s and boards and have a voice to make changes etc. Or else what’s the point of having a brain injury and the intelligence of being able to make it easier for others in the future.
Normally, on the Friday (fortnightly) I have certain services to clean my home and get taken shopping.
Trying to plan ahead, I contacted my service provider to move those services to the Thursday. I would still need a carer on Friday in the early/early morning (8am), so I could have help and be presentable and be able to get myself to the city to participate from 10.30am – 5pm!
I cannot tell you how many times I’ve had to speak to negotiate, demand whatever for someone to do their God-Damn job and roster people at the correct time, so I can go to this training day!
It has gotten to the point that every time the service provider has failed to get this simple request right, I’ve called on my mum to step in and fix this!
As you can imagine, it’s not the first time and I rarely ask anyone to solve these things, but eventually I think enough is enough and it shouldn’t be this hard. And you can imagine my mum is over this as well, because she first tries to manage me! Which I hate.
Because I’ve still got to deal with what I still have to do. I need to eat, have caffeine so I can go pay a bill so I can keep awake and avoid the pre-dinner kip, so I can go to sleep before midnight…
So I can wake up at 8am and hopefully have a carer here who knows my routine, so I can start the day without too many busy questions, so I can have breakfast on the train into the city.
So, I can collect a coffee before going into training and so I can retain information and contribute not just to the training but to the community and to life.
Sometimes, I want my mum to do silent and grumpy and overbearing to get shit done…