Work

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Society

Published August 9, 2019 by helentastic67

Society

Today, my carer told me the most ridiculous thing in the world, I have possible ever heard. This particular carer who will be reading this when it goes live (Yes, I’m talking about you).

A young lady (it’s a loose term, but let’s go with it) cut her hand off to avoid having a job and work. I flicked a demanding look at this carer and gave her a “What the fuck” there’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

Apparently, the parents took her to hospital and they were able to re-attach it and with rehab she can use that hand.

I then suggested she could have cut off some fingers (not her whole hand) or some toes and she might qualify for a Disability and get a free pass from work. My carer and I laughed at this suggestion.

I then finished with, if she was one-handed, she would work, everyday for her God-Damned Life.

I’m sure that is enough to make on this point and for my older more mature followers who are still (I hope) reading at this point completely get that the real lesson here is how society is going to hell in a hand basket, if the younger generation think they need to avoid working by doing something so drastic.

Being the age, I am and despite having a brain injury, all of my life I have a good work history. Ok, ‘good’ might be exaggerating it a little, but I don’t know how to sit still and not contribute to the world somehow.

 

FU

Published July 26, 2019 by helentastic67

F.U.

I know, apart from the title of this blog being the acronym for my favourite swear words or word in this instance, it’s actually for ‘something else’.

I don’t understand this concept where I have to revisit ‘something’ issue/services, something over and over again and it’s still not getting done correctly. It is inefficiency at its absolute best.

You know, that old idea that if you work in an office and every time you deal with a certain issue or case (for example) you put a dot (.) in the top corner of the page. After a determined period of time (a month, a week?) if there are so many dots, you can’t see anything else on the page, then whatever method you are implementing is clearly not working and you should try something else.

Well, I have a new method or suggestion. How about PEOPLE DO THEIR FUCKING JOB! (C’mon, we all knew it would be in here somewhere, right)

For example

Arriving home today, just before 5pm, I respond to texts from my Plan Manager. (The intermediary that receives, approves and pays for all of my carers and services for my NDIS plan) They have received invoices from (for example) 2/1/19 – 2/1/19. Isn’t that the exact same date? Why yes, it is! For 100’s-1000’s of $$$$ and I need to tell them if they should approve payment. But how do I tell them if they should approve payment? How do I know if they are billing correctly if I don’t get and actual invoice?

SOLUTION: Call service provider for invoices. I get one of my ‘least favourite people’ (not my favourite) and because it’s so late in the day. The staff in billing have probably gone home. Prompting me to ask “Does no one work until 5pm anymore?”

Many places still have the 5pm ‘knock 0ff’ time or COB (Close Of Business) I imagine it’s a problem because I bet they still expect to be paid until 5pm.

I wish my day ended at 5pm. That’s generally when all my ‘housekeeping’ begins. Bring my washing in off the racks on the balcony. If not dry: rehang inside. (NO, I STILL DON’T HAVE A FUCKING DRYER), make dinner, filing, yes I do filing. East dinner, clean up, pack the dishwasher and some TV to keep up to date with who, what, where and when. Then emails, but I digress.

So, the woman on the phone gave me a number to call the following day. Was it so hard to get them to just post out my invoices? What? So, I have to ring again? And lastly, FU. In admin terms it’s Follow-up or to follow up.

I always seen to do a lot of this because people don’t know how to provide a service. Don’t get me started, I suspect to cover that another day.

 

Career – Part 1

Published April 26, 2019 by helentastic67

 

Career

It’s such a weird word isn’t it? Today, I thought I’d cover a little of my work history, sort of.

I grew up living in the country, I didn’t grow up on a farm, I was considered a “Townie”.

By the time I was sixteen, I was a full-time student, a part time check-out chick and a “when ever babysitter” I’m not complaining. It was what it was. But I had NO SOCIAL LIFE. None, Zero.

Over Christmas, I picked up seasonal work on a blueberry farm. So, don’t talk to me about blueberries. I don’t get it. You are on your own.

I only picked when there was no work in the shed packing. Let me tell you the difference. While picking, my older sister would give a decent rendition of “I found my thrills on Blueberry Hills”. Good times. But it was hard going.

Packing, while arduous, we started at 6am and went hard until 4pm.There were no guys in the packing shed. It was considered that men distracted the women in the sorting shed. So the “no”is important? Sounds so 1950’s, or is it just me? There was the constant smell of bleach from the cleaning products. It paid better, but was stressful. The best berries went to export somewhere like Germany and at the end of the season we sorted all the berries that was deemed too small, mangled or mouldy out so, it could go to be made into pies or jam. You’re welcome.

Even when I did that job from 6am until 4pm, I would go home, shower, eat something and go to my supermarket job from 5pm to 9pm.

Good thing I was planning to be a poor art student. My two days of cherry picking marred by heatstroke and sleeping under the tree on a bull-ant nest, just because I picked the wrong side of the tree first. What? You heard. There is a right and wrong side of a tree. Yes! You pick the side first that doesn’t get the morning sun, then in the afternoon you pick the side that had the morning sun.

So, while I stayed living in the country another year after completing high school because I didn’t get into what I wanted to go on and do, I got into TAFE art course for a year. It was fairly stock standard course to go do and build on a folio if you didn’t get a course in the city.

I was still doing the full-time study, part-time work and xyz babysitter. Still no social life.

When I moved to Melbourne, it took a little while, but I was eventually introduced to really cool night clubs. Night clubs became my social life.

The first clubs I was introduced to were full on “WOG” clubs (again, don’t take offense, my father is Italian, so I can use that term) Lebanese, Turks, mention of history of guns blazing and drive by’s at the first club I went to Brunswick back in the early 90’s. Also, where I heard the fantastic piece by O’Fortuna in Apotheosis. I think I went out and bought the last twelve-inch vinyl copy to come into the country. Because it heavily sampled them from a well-known classical piece of music, it was banned.

The vibe in the clubs was electric, but then there was some really shifty stuff about wog clubs. The continuous stream of standing around the outside of the dance floor and girls dragging their boyfriends behind them, who would seem, lean in for a cheeky snog.

What! Yes! Outrage!

A guy that was with the people I was with pinched me on the backside so I turned and delivered him a slap. His sister and two friends came up to me all gangster-bitch like to take a piece of me. “I know he’s an asshole, but he’s my brother” so much for sisterhood.

The following week, a friend of his came up to me and told me the “pincher” wanted to buy me a drink, maybe he should have started with that.

I don’t know why I’m still single, but I don’t think it’s because I’m prepared to slap men if they deserve it. My ass was offended.

But that is to say, I digress.

While I studied to be a Visual Merchandiser, that being shop front window displays, shop layouts etc. I didn’t get into that, I didn’t have a folio, I couldn’t drive (to do freelancing) and I wasn’t a guy and gay. So, I couldn’t get a job with Myers.

I know, What? Those gay bitches get everything, so, I had started giving out some passes for the first club I worked for.

When I finished my course and disillusioned about what I really wanted to be doing for the rest of my life. Yeah, like that’s realistic to imagine someone of my age staying in the same job/company/industry for all of my working career.

To be continued…

Today’s Lunch – 9th January 2019

Published January 9, 2019 by helentastic67

todays lunch

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

Sometimes good things happen when least expected and even better if I can give a life lesson. You know I worked in nightclubs back in the 90’s for 5 years? Yeah, it felt like 10, but it was intense three to six nights a week. No drugs and barely any alcohol. Yeah so last week I had lunch with a chick I knew from back in those days. Yes, we were friends yet I hadn’t seen her since those days, losing touch because I moved back to the country for two years and her relocating across the ditch. This was before everybody had a mobile phone.

working in nightclub

While my club career added to my skill set, it didn’t lead to further employment shall we say.
However, meet Skye Bromberg. She was the receptionist at some of the clubs I worked at and the Door-Bitch at another. Telling young guys in bad suits they couldn’t enter the club because she “couldn’t guarantee their safety”, (because the regular patrons would want to sort them out)
Club work really can lead to bigger and better careers.

http://www.abc.net.au/local/videos/2010/11/04/3056809.htm

And here is Mika playing with her new toy. Many thanks to Stephanie, she loves it!

mika & fish

And then just before Christmas a gift arrived into my letterbox. It was from ‘Santa!’ and while I do all my gifts from ‘Santa’ if I put it in your hand you know it’s from me. Now, this gift was are specially from the man in red, and I am stumped! Welcome to my Happy Socks!
happy socks

I have been asking everybody! It’s going to drive me crazy! Just crazy!

going crazy

One more week and my favourite cafe is back! So, today’s lunch was closer to home, much closer.
Today’s offering is a beetroot salad with goats’ cheese and my medicine, of course.

salad

latte

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cheers,
H

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