A Hundred Hundreds Bonus Blog

Well would you look at that. My blog has been viewed over 1000 times. Thats pretty cool. I don't know what i was expecting out of it but it has been very enjoyable doing it and I have to say its been great for my ego getting some lovely feedback and whatnot.

The whole writing experience has been a huge positive for me. It has helped me have some direction in this my year of 'bo-ho, slacker utopia' as Steve likes to call it and it has also been therapeutic when a professional therapist is beyond my price range.

And they say you can't put a price on mental health. You can you know. €60 a week.

But I digress.

Like all the greats, Kanye, Paula Abdul, Ashton Kutcher, I'd be nothing without you the reader. You make me want to be a better man. If I could i'd stand outside all your houses with a boombox blasting Peter Gabriel held aloft.

So as a 'reward' for allowing me to feed my self indulgence, I'm going to post the first thing I committed to paper.

Its really just an idea. Its not something I would consider a finished work and I have since taken the beginning and used it another, very different story. I look at it now as stepping stone.

I guess some of it is partially biographical, but its the biography of a different me at a different time in my life.

Anyway....normal blog service will resume this week, in the meantime thanks to anyone who has read anything i've written here.

Oh and I'm aware 100 100's isn't One thousand....well I am now.

The Most Disapproving Man in the World

As I turned into the drive he was standing there in the doorway. Waiting. Judging. With the exception of a few more wrinkles the grimace on his face was the same as the one he had fifteen years ago the time I told him about my decision about College. My Dad. The most disapproving man in the world.

Deep Breaths. Count to then. I opened the door to my latest purchase. A green, second hand Fiat Punto automobile. Twelve years old. Two previous owners.

“Hi”, I said as I stepped out. “What do you think of her?”

“How’s it going” he muttered as he approached the car. “What sort of color is that supposed to be?”

He walked around the car. Taking in every detail. Looking her up and down. My Dad knows very little about auto mechanics. But he knows I know even less. As he circled the Punto he kicked each tyre. Three times he tapped it wheel with his size 11 moccossins. Ha. I had done that when I bought it. Everyone knows to kick the tyres. It makes you look in the know. He grimaced and scratched the back of his head as he ran his fingers along the paintjob.

He questioned me as he opened the bonnet and looked at the engine. What he thought he would get from looking at it is another thing.

“ Is it a diesel engine, yea? You know that means you can’t but petrol in it? What kind of mileage is on it? Was the sales guy foreign?”

Each answer I gave him was met with a look of unbelieving. When I responded to his enquiry about the price he scoffed.

“They must have had really big windows.”

I don’t know why I put myself through it. I’m a grown man. I have a nice little business. I have friends who are actual mechanics. But I still decided to give my dad a call when I bought the car. Its good for us. He gets to think he still knows best. And besides. If he wasn’t giving out, he’d probably just sit around missing mum.

I noticed the complaining started getting worse since the funeral. He complained about the egg sandwiches at the wake. He complained about the state of the bathrooms in the funeral home. He complained about the size of the knot in my tie. He complained. He liked it.

My Dad. The worlds greatest complainer.

As he slammed the bonnet shut he asked me if I wanted a cup of tea.

“Sure” I said, walking up the steps of the porch entering through the hall door.

“ And will you take a look at the computer, I can’t get on to my online bingo”

I hated when he asks me to look at the computer.

“I’ll take a look but I can’t promise you anything” I felt like I was pleading for leniency.

“Sure didn’t you go to college” was the answer he like to trot out on these occassions

“Yea, I studied art appreciation” I tried to defend myself.

“I know”he said. And I saw that old familiar grimace one more time.

Mutual

September 10th 2009.A pretty non eventful day for many although not without consequence. One day before the anniversary the World Trade Centre attack it was surely significant for relatives of victims. A shared birthday for the unlikely celebrity trio of Ryan Philippe, Joe Perry and Arnold Palmer. Who can forget that it was 32nd anniversary of the last person to be guillotined in France? That being Hamida Djandoubi of course.

For me, however, it is a momentous date. It was on that day that my life changed, hopefully forever, and I began on what has since proved to be the happiest, most fulfilled period of my life. That is because on that day, exactly one year ago from the day when I type this, I walked out of Meteor Mobile Communications for the last time.

It was an amazing day. I was embarking on the biggest adventure into the unknown I’d ever taken. I had no idea what lay ahead. And I couldn’t have been more excited.

I know in this time of economic uncertainty that anyone excited about losing a job must be considered a mental health risk. Well if I’m honest in my case it was the exact opposite. Leaving Meteor was the best thing I could ever do for my sanity.

I’ve spoken before about how I was stressed by the job of Fraud Analyst and how it was genuinely affecting my health but I’m not sure if that paints a full and fair picture. Its not that the job itself was particularly stressful on its own. My performance in the role wasn’t good enough really. This was mostly due to not liking the job in any way.

If I was getting any joy from the job I probably would have worked harder. The work I did would possibly have been better. I would not have made the same basic mistakes over and over again. But I didn’t. This led me down the road to what is known as the ‘Disciplinary Process.’

You’ve all heard of it I’m sure. You sit down and discuss how ‘we’ can work on ‘our’ issues. If that isn’t successful you then have things like ‘Training Programmes.’ This is followed by warnings of the verbal and written nature.

If I had been honest, with myself and with my boss, when we were discussing ‘my issues’ I would have said I hate this job and left there and then. That, however, is not really a practical move. Everyone hates their job, right? No one walks away from a very decent job and decent package because they don’t like it. You suck it up, right?

And that’s what I tried to do. I ended up creating cycle of misery that was constantly perpetuating. I’d hate the job so I’d make a mistake so I’d hate the job so I’d make a mistake so I’d….you get the idea.
Have you ever rang in sick just because you know you made a mistake? It doesn’t make the mistake go away. It just delays having to deal with it. This I know from experience.

Without going into too much detail, one of my mistakes got so out of hand that it was the focus of a report by the RTE news programme Primetime. A call-back to a customer, something very simple, that I didn’t do got escalated to the point where it was on national TV. I didn’t call him back because he wasn’t listening to me anyway so I said fuck him.

Not great customer service I know but the results did seem a little exaggerated. Imagine having your boss call you to a meeting and say you messed up on this and by the way the country’s broadcasters are going to be covering it. That’s a lot of pressure. That was the straw before the straw that broke the camels back.

To be honest I can’t even remember what the actual final nail was. All I remember was I was on a weeks holiday away from it and recharging my batteries for one more push at being a dedicated, diligent and committed Fraud Analyst. On the Friday before I was due to start back I got a phone call from one of my colleagues. Just giving me a heads up, something I was supposed to do had gone awry.

A whole week off of relaxing and gearing myself up for once more into breech, gone. Out the window. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was dreading Monday and was fully expecting that I would go in on Monday morning and be fired. What happened next was an unexpected piece of fortune

Not wanting to endure the whole rigmarole that goes along with these disciplinary meetings I went in ready to end it all. Like a Samurai about to perform Seppuku I explained I knew what had happened and I knew what the repercussions would be. I asked them to make it quick as I wanted to get it over with as I was tired of it all and if it wasn’t for the fact that I couldn’t sign on the dole I would quit right now.

This apparently was some secret magic formula. The powers that be went from being my (self-perceived) worst enemies to being the people who were happy to help me set up what was to become my new life. A package was agreed and I would be ending my working relationship with Meteor by mutual agreement. MUTUAL AGREEMENT. Just like Martin O’Neill.

I finished up two days later. They were keen not to drag it out. In fairness if I was slacking off when I was trying to keep my job what would I be like when I knew I was going.

On my final day I had an exit meeting with my manager. For the first time ever I was able to just be honest about my feelings for the job. It was really liberating.

I do need to make one thing clear. Meteor Mobile Communications is a great company to work for (or they were most of the time I was there.) I have no bad blood against them or my managers who were doing their job when I wasn’t doing mine. I was just not meant to that job. Since then I think I’ve figured out that I’m not cut out for office work in general. I think Meteor bore the brunt of my brain and spirit rebelling against 8 years in an air conditioned, neon lit purgatory.

When I left the exit meeting my colleagues were waiting with cake and biscuits to say goodbye. It was really nice. They didn’t really know the circumstances of my leaving and as we sat around and chatted about what I was going to do it began to feel more and more that not only was it the right decision but it felt like it was my decision.

One colleague asked if I was going to miss them. I the time I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to offend anyone. As people I knew I would miss some of them but I wouldn’t miss going into that office to see them everyday. If I were to see any of them in the outside world I’d be delighted.

So once the cake and biscuit was gone and the goodbyes were said, I was escorted from the building. A standard procedure but it still felt funny. I didn’t mind though. They could have had an armed response unit throw me out the door and I’d still be delighted. I got in my car and drove into the afternoon sun having chosen Ghost Town by the Specials as the song to play as I left the Meteor car park for the last time.

Of course it can be argued that with hindsight it’s easy to say it was the best thing to ever happen to me. But even then, as soon as I realised I was free, I knew ‘it’ would work out for me. Whatever ‘it’ was. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or where I could do it. I just knew I’d be happy.

And I am. I work part time to pay the bills. I do some voluntary work which is incredibly rewarding and I have the time to pursue a dream of being a writer. I mean that’s what I’ve always wanted to be. I remember being child with the whole world in front of him. Then a teenager with hopes, not twisted by years of working a spirit sapping low reward jobs. First he wanted to be Indiana Jones and then a writer.

I don’t recall him ever wanting to be a Fraud Analyst.

Old Schtick Part 4

I got a little worried when I started reading this. I thought for a second that this contrite horse excrement was serious. Then I remembered I was the person who wrote it and it was a juvenile attempt at some kind of satire. Thank fuck for that. So please remember...not serious.

With a tip of his hat he bids you adieu

And wanders into the desolate evening air

He brings with him your love and affection

He doesn't care. He just doesn't care.

You were just a face in a crowd

He saw you as just his next victim

He pursued you and wooed you for the past month and a half

Now he is taking your love with him

It wasn't about sex, that's just a bonus

To him it was all just a game

He toyed with your emotions for fun

Now he's left and you're lonely again

He took you for a fool then left

You wish him pain you hope he dies

But maybe its your own stupid fault

You silly bitch you believed his lies

Old Schtick Part 3

The next two schticks reflect most the teenage-y angst-y bar-room-y nonsense poetry that I was lashing out. The tortured soul writer who can't quite get over the lost love. Its all bollix really.

Self indulgent whining that doesn't actually require any talent to create, just a fairly decent vocabulary.....actually that kinda sounds like my blog in general (which by the way will resume properly soon.)

I'm not sure I still feel that way, but there is definitely something to be said for poetry hating theory...probably that I'm a bitter cynic who hates romance. Any way....

Lying in bed, I don't want to move

Who was that girl in my dreams

With curly blonde hair and lily white skin

Was her beauty as great as it seemed

We danced in a field of corn covered gold

How I hoped it would never end

But now she's gone for all time, never again

Will I find my beautiful Timotei friend