Squelch, squelch, squelch! No better way to describe the start of Winter in London. Wet feet, socks soaked through all day long; no shoes fully protected from the harsh elements. One's first winter in London is never a fun experience. If you have grown up in England and are accustomed to the eight months a year of constant downpour and very cold temperatures, I'm sure it's not that bad. If you have come overseas from the southern parts, it can be a huge shock to the system; turning what you are used to upside down. Instead of warm, summery happiness nearly all year long in southern Africa, Australia, NZ and South America with the occasional cold front, one is confronted by endless months and months of gloom; rain, rain, rain and no sun.
I understand perfectly now why the weather is spoken about so often, that it takes up nearly a page in the Metro and why "Summer" is discussed at such length on the news channels, on trains and in living rooms all over the United Kingdom. It's because "Summer", she is a huge 'thing'. If the two months of summer are bright and warm, it improves the lives of the local people, it's as simple as that. It lifts the mood, people can wear shorts and skirts for a bit and Mother Nature breathes a sigh of relief and allows the flowers to bloom. When the sun shines, people smile to themsleves on their way to work even when they are in a rush. London glows; the parks are full, restaurants place tables in their outside areas, children can run free in the fresh air, people exercise in the streets, you can smell a "braai" nearly every evening on the way home from work and people just look healthier.
Three days into the rainy season, things are not looking good. A long winter of hibernation, coffee-drinking and greyness awaits...
One positive: at least it's London, one can surely live with that!
Thursday 8 October 2009
Sunday 30 August 2009
The dream team
It is frightening how absolutely entertaining it can be to work at a call centre; the friends and people you meet, the strange scenarios that happen in the height of boredom, the interesting facts you'd never have found out if you had not worked all Saturday and Sunday for the last who knows how long.
When I moved over to the United Kingdom, I never thought I would be forced into accepting a call centre agent offer, not that there is anything wrong with call centre work, I just had other expectations of my English experience. I came over with modest dreams of hotel and bar work in a little country establishment; no expenses and cash in hand. Sadly, the job market had hit its lowest point since the start of the recession and I would spend six weeks looking for a basic reception job or even freelancing for Academic editing websites and a company that writes wills for women only. Thousands of applications later and I'd still heard nothing and had very little feedback. Not the best two months of my life I'll be honest.
Then an interview opportunity at a call centre came up. I almost didn't go because I was convinced that someone would get back to me or something would come up sooner or later. Thank goodness I did not take the chance. The recruitment agency phoned me and I said no at first. Then I went for run, reminded myself that I needed to pay rent in two weeks and phoned the agency back to accept the position as a weekend call centre agent (all company details confidential).
My weekend job has become rather a delightful proposition at the end of the normal working week. I know I am going to see the crew; the smiling faces, the laughs, the great conversation. The Swine Flu Agents are a wonderful bunch of people. There is Cowgirl, Dr C, Thistle, Ruxy, James Bond, Scotty, Hesh-man, Snickers and JF.
More to tell...
When I moved over to the United Kingdom, I never thought I would be forced into accepting a call centre agent offer, not that there is anything wrong with call centre work, I just had other expectations of my English experience. I came over with modest dreams of hotel and bar work in a little country establishment; no expenses and cash in hand. Sadly, the job market had hit its lowest point since the start of the recession and I would spend six weeks looking for a basic reception job or even freelancing for Academic editing websites and a company that writes wills for women only. Thousands of applications later and I'd still heard nothing and had very little feedback. Not the best two months of my life I'll be honest.
Then an interview opportunity at a call centre came up. I almost didn't go because I was convinced that someone would get back to me or something would come up sooner or later. Thank goodness I did not take the chance. The recruitment agency phoned me and I said no at first. Then I went for run, reminded myself that I needed to pay rent in two weeks and phoned the agency back to accept the position as a weekend call centre agent (all company details confidential).
My weekend job has become rather a delightful proposition at the end of the normal working week. I know I am going to see the crew; the smiling faces, the laughs, the great conversation. The Swine Flu Agents are a wonderful bunch of people. There is Cowgirl, Dr C, Thistle, Ruxy, James Bond, Scotty, Hesh-man, Snickers and JF.
More to tell...
Sunday 23 August 2009
A culture of free "stuff"
I have despised tabloid newspapers and magazines since I can remember, especially the free ones. Just the fact that they are free has connotations of sensation, sleaze, sex, paparazzi and slimey "journalistic" endeavours.
People love free "stuff" though and will read what they are handed and largely believe it to be true. It kills me; the newspaper pretenders using tabloid-size print sheet and producing a mixture of real stories and the latest celeb gossip and of course, the football pages. The sport section is sometimes worth reading because it is quite difficult to put too much of a twist on a match/tournament the world is watching.
My biggest issue is the biased news reporting; the one-sided reports and subjective sources. I wish people would take the free "newspaper" and read it but still be critical at the end of it all. I'm not sure this happens very often unfortunately.
There is one free goody which I would happily accept again and again, every time I walk into the tube station. Sport magazine. Delightful design, colours, juicy information, focus, good research and flair. How I miss consistent flair in journalism today.
Anyhow, I have been reading the 12-page spread of the Ashes analysis in the August 21 edition. Being a South African, my interests have always been in my cricket team's successes and never buried in the history of other nation's sporting tours. After reading this article, however, I am more interested in Ashes 2009 than ever before. I crave the Oval crowds, the expectation, the excitement, the cold pints. Man oh man...
So out of this age of free handouts, I have found a truly fantastic treasure, Sport magazine. I do recommend...
People love free "stuff" though and will read what they are handed and largely believe it to be true. It kills me; the newspaper pretenders using tabloid-size print sheet and producing a mixture of real stories and the latest celeb gossip and of course, the football pages. The sport section is sometimes worth reading because it is quite difficult to put too much of a twist on a match/tournament the world is watching.
My biggest issue is the biased news reporting; the one-sided reports and subjective sources. I wish people would take the free "newspaper" and read it but still be critical at the end of it all. I'm not sure this happens very often unfortunately.
There is one free goody which I would happily accept again and again, every time I walk into the tube station. Sport magazine. Delightful design, colours, juicy information, focus, good research and flair. How I miss consistent flair in journalism today.
Anyhow, I have been reading the 12-page spread of the Ashes analysis in the August 21 edition. Being a South African, my interests have always been in my cricket team's successes and never buried in the history of other nation's sporting tours. After reading this article, however, I am more interested in Ashes 2009 than ever before. I crave the Oval crowds, the expectation, the excitement, the cold pints. Man oh man...
So out of this age of free handouts, I have found a truly fantastic treasure, Sport magazine. I do recommend...
Living the dream...
Why is it that when one is most bored or confined to a certain area for hours on end, that the smallest little things inspire one? The other day, I was sitting at my weekend call centre job pondering my existence and receiving one call every four hours. I have even taken to reading tabloids, evil and sensationalist cow's dung, but I read them nevertheless when at the call centre because my brain is too lazy to concentrate on much else.
So I was "reading" a magazine with the usual Katie Price/Jordan-with-no-clothes-on photo splashed on the front cover. After wading through the cellulite zoom-in, Brangelina's marital problems, Posh Spice's anorexia (I often wonder what the news values are, it is the same rubbish every week), I came upon the star signs. Now, these are my absolute favourite! I can read all of them and relate them, at least in part, to my own sorry life. This time though, Capricorn's weekly jargon really made me think. It went on about arriving on this planet as a sweet, tiny baby having no opinions about what you were supposed to be doing. No one had great expectations of you except hope that you'd sleep through the night. "You were happy just to live in a spirit of relaxed open-mindedness. That was then. This is now," it said. Now you've got a whole list of the things you like and dislike, a reputation to live up to, responsibilities to keep. "Some of it you can't escape." Those were the words that really hit me. Hectic. And so true.
There are some things in life you simply cannot escape. It's how you deal with them that makes life happy or unbearable, memorable or completely average. So, I sit in London earning minimum wage, working seven days a week just to pay the bills (my responsibilities to honour) and contemplating the real reasons why I am here.
At first, perhaps, it was an attempt to escape the expectations of friends, family and lecturers; to rediscover my spirit of "relaxed open-mindedness". I realise now that I will never be a cute, tiny or totally relaxed human being ever again. What I can be is open-minded and make as much of the multi-cultured society, excitement, bright lights, theatre, music, people (from Camden Town Market to Oxford University scholars) as possible to make this a truly sensational journey.
Perhaps all I really need to do is let my hair down...completely, break the rules and forget what people think. Let go...and live the London dream everyone talks about.
So I was "reading" a magazine with the usual Katie Price/Jordan-with-no-clothes-on photo splashed on the front cover. After wading through the cellulite zoom-in, Brangelina's marital problems, Posh Spice's anorexia (I often wonder what the news values are, it is the same rubbish every week), I came upon the star signs. Now, these are my absolute favourite! I can read all of them and relate them, at least in part, to my own sorry life. This time though, Capricorn's weekly jargon really made me think. It went on about arriving on this planet as a sweet, tiny baby having no opinions about what you were supposed to be doing. No one had great expectations of you except hope that you'd sleep through the night. "You were happy just to live in a spirit of relaxed open-mindedness. That was then. This is now," it said. Now you've got a whole list of the things you like and dislike, a reputation to live up to, responsibilities to keep. "Some of it you can't escape." Those were the words that really hit me. Hectic. And so true.
There are some things in life you simply cannot escape. It's how you deal with them that makes life happy or unbearable, memorable or completely average. So, I sit in London earning minimum wage, working seven days a week just to pay the bills (my responsibilities to honour) and contemplating the real reasons why I am here.
At first, perhaps, it was an attempt to escape the expectations of friends, family and lecturers; to rediscover my spirit of "relaxed open-mindedness". I realise now that I will never be a cute, tiny or totally relaxed human being ever again. What I can be is open-minded and make as much of the multi-cultured society, excitement, bright lights, theatre, music, people (from Camden Town Market to Oxford University scholars) as possible to make this a truly sensational journey.
Perhaps all I really need to do is let my hair down...completely, break the rules and forget what people think. Let go...and live the London dream everyone talks about.
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