A good old fashioned telling off


Sometimes I just need a kick in the pants. And I haven’t really had one for a while – I don’t mean like literal physical abuse type ‘kick in the pants’ – I just mean a firm nudge to get on and do something. And then my wee friend Mary prodded me via Facebook about not blogging – and here I am. Mary is a lovely friend, and, in fact, a lovely person – but she’s got that tiny woman thing about her that I find a bit terrifying sometimes.

So – life has rolled around and around the last few months. We came home, we settled in. There were welcomings and catch-ups and cakes and cakes and cakes. All of our clothes shrunk somehow. I interviewed for two jobs. One sounded wonderful but I was told I was over-qualified for it, which I was slightly relieved about because my boss would have been about 8 years younger than me and, during my interview, told me how he thinks all of his staff should relive his recent caving experience. Caving? Um, I’d rather lie back here and let you remove my toe-nails with some rusty old pliers thanks. And also the enlarging of ass thing often doesn’t suit squeezing through tight spaces. Ask Winnie the Pooh.

I interviewed for another job. There were 4 interviews in total for this role, all with the same person. For the last interview I was told it was down to the ‘final one’ so it was just about negotiating. It turned out that we had different ideas about suitable payment. I kind of felt like I should be paid for the job I’ve trained to do for the last 15 years, he sort of felt like he should pay me about the same as a service station attendant. It was a bit disheartening but I’d been reading a lot about getting paid what you’re worth and, let’s face it, if I’d taken that wage I would have had to start a side-line selling office stationary on the black market. I also did a bit of a re-cap and realised that he asked me, in every one of the four interviews, how many children I had. Because having children kills off brain cells – right buddy?

Downhearted and thinking, “um, hello small town – is this all you’ve got?” I gave myself a stern talking to (Mary lives too far away for urgent call-outs) and thought ‘take control you non-caving old trollop!” (My internal voice likes old-fashioned put-downs). So I started my own company. Just like that. It’s actually not that hard and once I started it all happened.

Now I have more than full-time hours with my 4 contracts, and other contracts pending. I’m getting paid a fair amount to do a good job and I’m networking and having fun. Granted, I did order some heels and nearly put my back out after an afternoon’s wear but other than that I’ve slotted back into the ‘corporate’ world fairly well. Sure, there’s mother-guilt every time I leave Bubba, who now stands in her PJ and says “I go with Mama!” whenever I sneak out in the morning. And she knows where the power button is on the laptop so if I’m on it that bit too long she just shuts it off. Thank God for Autosave. But it feels good to get back into it. I gave my first presentation for a loooooong time the other day and I did not piss my pants, which is something to be proud of I think.

I’m going to keep blogging, but I have had to get my head around the fact that I’m not sitting in a city of 4 million any more, and if I slag off the lady in the bookshop (which I wouldn’t – because she is LOVELY) people might click on to who I’m talking about. It’s a bit of an adjustment, but I’ll get there.

And in other news, my tiny little baby is turning 2 on Monday. TWO YEARS OLD. This growing up business is out of control.

I hope you are happy and healthy and either basking in the sunshine or cuddling up with a cocoa and no bra on as you read this. I am considering patenting an invention that makes bras pop off the second you either sit on a comfy chair or walk in through the back door. Sure, there might be some issues for prudish visitors but, on the whole, I think it’s a goer.