It may be the summer holidays for the school kids, (what a genius idea by the way), but that doesn't mean the learning has to stop. It's amazing just how much there is to learn still, as a degree-level-educated twenty four year old. And I don't just mean the boring stuff, like calculating how it's humanly possibly that after five years of steady decline, ones car insurance premium inexplicable rises. Or discovering how to switch the 'keypad lock' funtion off your new BlackBerry without realising how you'd put it on in the first place.
This week alone, (bearing in mind it's merely Wednesday), I have already learned the following useful life lessons:
1. On the whole, a bath is never, ever as good as you think or hope it's going to be. They are usually shortlived occasions spent trying to contort yourself into an unasethicly shaped device, (ironic really considering it's design purpose should be to contain the human form in a spacious and comfortable fashion). Inevitably, the water is either too hot or too cold and if the former then it turns tepid too quickly and the worst part of the unexpected ordeal is the inability to lie down for a proper soak, without a stray limb protruding out in a corpse like fashion.
2. Both The Weakest Link and Eggheads use the same quiz questions as selected from a shared database... FACT.
3. The ranting lady on the bus who has spent the past week complaining about the changes to the timetable should be listened to with the same level of respect and awe that a novice apprentice would their mentor. She is right, the changes are unreasonable and will result in me having to change my entire morning routine. Had she not been so vocal about her discontent, I would have been none the wiser and probably stood like a lemon waiting for a non-existent bus for at least three mornings before bothering to seek an explanation. Thank God for loudmouths. And eavesdropping.
4. It take three days, three hours and 49 minutes to reach the moon. I Googled it, so there!
5. Much like a bath, a meal at Nandos will almost invariably disappoint and bloat simultaneously.
6. Carrying an umbrella around in August is not daft, it is adviseable. Remember, we are in England.
Who knows what nuggets of knowledge and trivia the next few days will bring!
Remember, life may be mundane sometimes, (alright a lot of the time), but there's always an opportunity to broaden the mind through imagining and philosophising wherever you may be and whatever you may be (or should be) doing.
For now, that is all. 'Til next time, that's it from me, Simpleton McGee.
Tuesday 24 August 2010
Thursday 12 August 2010
"The Game"
WARNING! Feminist Rant alert!
I was listening to the radio this morning and a bloke in his early twenties called in to tell the presenter about a book he'd been given by a strange loner in his local boozer. Alarm bells are already ringing. Never trust the weirdo that sits in the corner of the pub and has done every day of his adult life! The book he was referring to was "The Game" by Neil Strauss. I'd heard about this 'Bible' from some of the (how do I put this politely...?) more promiscuous guys who lived in halls with a course mate of mine at uni and I was less than unimpressed with the concept back then. Four years of life experience and a healthy dose of adulthood-induced-grumpiness later and I can safely say that my tolerance for such things has diminished into non-existence.
The premise of the book, so I gather, is a how-to guide for useless/desperate men to pick up women. Or as the author himself puts it: "penetrating the secret society of pickup artists".
Wow. I'm already pissed off.
Where do I start?!
Firstly, what decade is it?! I'm fairly certain that 'picking up' women in bars, (sorry, I can't bring myself to type it without the inverted commas, it's such a nauseating concept), should have died in the 1980's along with smoking cigars at the office and mild sexual harassment of the secretary being an acceptable part of the daily routine. Also - where does this idea of 'artistry' come into it? How is there anything commendable/admirable/creative about following some lecherous creep's advice. If you didn't have the brains to come up with it yourself it's not art! (That's the only compliment Neil Strauss will be getting from moi).
Don't get me wrong, of course I'm not naive enough to think that this sort of thing doesn't happen every weekend in bars, pubs and clubs across the world. It's more the connotation of the phrase 'picking up' that bothers me. It implies such ease and yet the irony is that a lot of these sleazy men, which myself and my female allies have more than likely encountered first hand, are so inadequate at getting female attention/appreciation/respect that they turn to self-help books like "The Game"!
My second reaction is shock at the idea that so many men would actually buy into this bullshit about game-playing and rules when it comes to dating. Isn't that all a little bit year nine? Call me old-fashioned, but I've never been one for waiting a certain amount of time before texting back or any of that other trickery!
I think another big problem is the fact that in creating this 'guide' to what women will (supposedly) like (or at the very least fall for) when first meeting a prospective partner, is that it creates a false sense of panic in the minds of probably half-decent men who perhaps aren't so lucky with the ladies and therefore it tricks them into believing that they simply need this book in order to be attractive to the opposite sex. Oh God - now I'm getting all Marxist on your asses! I can't honestly remember the last time I was bowled off my feet upon seeing some chump down the local wearing a Sombrero. (Yes 'peacocking', I.E. making yourself stand out from the crowd in some obvious way in order to differentiate yourself from the other men in the room was an actual and serious suggestion in this book!)
Problemo numero trois - whatever happened to being yourself? Ah yes - the big problem arises here and this is probably where Neil Strauss was clever and spotted a gap in the market. (OK so I complimented him again, but no more, I promise!) What if you actually are just a boring f*** with nothing to offer a lady? You'd have been screwed (and only metaphorically of course) when it came to women... until now! Neil saves the day! Again my inner-cynic has reared its outspoken head. Why bother becoming a more interesting/friendly/genuine/fun/confident person when you can just lie and blag your way into women's bedrooms?! Ah right... I now see exactly why the latter is a more attractive option, it's simply easier and much less effort to go out there and better yourself than to pretend to be someone/something you're not. What a sad state of affairs...
So my advice to all the hapless men out there looking for love (or lust as is more likely to be the case) is to be yourself. Yes I know, how very boring and cliched of me... But if it was the other way round, wouldn't you rather know that the nice girl you were chatting to at the bar last night actually quite fancied you and wasn't just having a laugh and using you as a pawn in a game that she and her mates would have a great laugh about the next day?
If you still can't seem to win the affections of the ladies that way, then my only other suggestion would be plastic surgery and a personality transplant.
Until next time...!
I was listening to the radio this morning and a bloke in his early twenties called in to tell the presenter about a book he'd been given by a strange loner in his local boozer. Alarm bells are already ringing. Never trust the weirdo that sits in the corner of the pub and has done every day of his adult life! The book he was referring to was "The Game" by Neil Strauss. I'd heard about this 'Bible' from some of the (how do I put this politely...?) more promiscuous guys who lived in halls with a course mate of mine at uni and I was less than unimpressed with the concept back then. Four years of life experience and a healthy dose of adulthood-induced-grumpiness later and I can safely say that my tolerance for such things has diminished into non-existence.
The premise of the book, so I gather, is a how-to guide for useless/desperate men to pick up women. Or as the author himself puts it: "penetrating the secret society of pickup artists".
Wow. I'm already pissed off.
Where do I start?!
Firstly, what decade is it?! I'm fairly certain that 'picking up' women in bars, (sorry, I can't bring myself to type it without the inverted commas, it's such a nauseating concept), should have died in the 1980's along with smoking cigars at the office and mild sexual harassment of the secretary being an acceptable part of the daily routine. Also - where does this idea of 'artistry' come into it? How is there anything commendable/admirable/creative about following some lecherous creep's advice. If you didn't have the brains to come up with it yourself it's not art! (That's the only compliment Neil Strauss will be getting from moi).
Don't get me wrong, of course I'm not naive enough to think that this sort of thing doesn't happen every weekend in bars, pubs and clubs across the world. It's more the connotation of the phrase 'picking up' that bothers me. It implies such ease and yet the irony is that a lot of these sleazy men, which myself and my female allies have more than likely encountered first hand, are so inadequate at getting female attention/appreciation/respect that they turn to self-help books like "The Game"!
My second reaction is shock at the idea that so many men would actually buy into this bullshit about game-playing and rules when it comes to dating. Isn't that all a little bit year nine? Call me old-fashioned, but I've never been one for waiting a certain amount of time before texting back or any of that other trickery!
I think another big problem is the fact that in creating this 'guide' to what women will (supposedly) like (or at the very least fall for) when first meeting a prospective partner, is that it creates a false sense of panic in the minds of probably half-decent men who perhaps aren't so lucky with the ladies and therefore it tricks them into believing that they simply need this book in order to be attractive to the opposite sex. Oh God - now I'm getting all Marxist on your asses! I can't honestly remember the last time I was bowled off my feet upon seeing some chump down the local wearing a Sombrero. (Yes 'peacocking', I.E. making yourself stand out from the crowd in some obvious way in order to differentiate yourself from the other men in the room was an actual and serious suggestion in this book!)
Problemo numero trois - whatever happened to being yourself? Ah yes - the big problem arises here and this is probably where Neil Strauss was clever and spotted a gap in the market. (OK so I complimented him again, but no more, I promise!) What if you actually are just a boring f*** with nothing to offer a lady? You'd have been screwed (and only metaphorically of course) when it came to women... until now! Neil saves the day! Again my inner-cynic has reared its outspoken head. Why bother becoming a more interesting/friendly/genuine/fun/confident person when you can just lie and blag your way into women's bedrooms?! Ah right... I now see exactly why the latter is a more attractive option, it's simply easier and much less effort to go out there and better yourself than to pretend to be someone/something you're not. What a sad state of affairs...
So my advice to all the hapless men out there looking for love (or lust as is more likely to be the case) is to be yourself. Yes I know, how very boring and cliched of me... But if it was the other way round, wouldn't you rather know that the nice girl you were chatting to at the bar last night actually quite fancied you and wasn't just having a laugh and using you as a pawn in a game that she and her mates would have a great laugh about the next day?
If you still can't seem to win the affections of the ladies that way, then my only other suggestion would be plastic surgery and a personality transplant.
Until next time...!
Phrases that get my goat - part 3
"Annual Leave" - Again, this is one of those pesky phrases that only seems to crop up in a work environment. Why do emploeyrs insist on giving such a simple concept such a longwinded name?! It sounds so stuffy and official that it almost connotes images of being given leave from military service! Wouldn't 'Holiday' cover it suffciently?! It just seems so unnatural! I'd be very surprised if you heard someone saying 'I'm off to Spain for my annual leave this year'. Presumably the scoundrel responsible for this irritating label was a David Brent-esque smart arse who wanted to make thier pathetic career seem more important than was.
"Bugbear" - Another ironic one... Seriously what is the etymology of this one?! Was an innocent bear being irritated by an insect just as a budding linguist happened to pass by and observe the unusual situation, when in a flash of brilliance he decided to coin the phrase? I can't think of a more logical explanation.
"Bugbear" - Another ironic one... Seriously what is the etymology of this one?! Was an innocent bear being irritated by an insect just as a budding linguist happened to pass by and observe the unusual situation, when in a flash of brilliance he decided to coin the phrase? I can't think of a more logical explanation.
Saturday 7 August 2010
Phrases that get my goat - part 2
1. "Smart casual" - I have just received an email confirmation for an interview for a new job. The dress code that it has been specified that I should wear is the infamous "smart casual". I'm sorry, I must have missed something along the way... Is that not an oxymoronic specification?! How can one possibly be smart and yet casual simultaneously? It's equivalent to asking someone to dress "slutty modest" or "snow beachwear". Maybe I'll just wear a tophat and dungarees and hope that ticks the boxes! I'm sure that would guaruntee me the job!
2. "I'm not being funny" - No, quite clearly you are not. I am not laughing, you have not told and amusing anecdote, so why would you prefix an exclamation with this phrase when inherently it's quite clear that what you're about to say is not funny in any way, shape or form.
3. "Many thanks, kind regards" - I blame the invention of email for this one! Does anyone in their right mind who doesn't originate from a 1960's etiquette class/is a robotic Stepford wife actually verbally utter this phrase?!
2. "I'm not being funny" - No, quite clearly you are not. I am not laughing, you have not told and amusing anecdote, so why would you prefix an exclamation with this phrase when inherently it's quite clear that what you're about to say is not funny in any way, shape or form.
3. "Many thanks, kind regards" - I blame the invention of email for this one! Does anyone in their right mind who doesn't originate from a 1960's etiquette class/is a robotic Stepford wife actually verbally utter this phrase?!
Friday 6 August 2010
Life Lessons – Number 1: Follow Your Gut
This is familiar. It’s 10:44am on a Friday and I’m already bored, sat at my laptop, still wearing my pyjamas and wondering where it all went wrong. Again. Yep, it’s that old familiar friend we like to call ‘unemployment’. Except this time I can’t complain too much, as the predicament I find myself in is self-inflicted.
Six weeks ago I thought I’d hit the jackpot big-time. Having landed my ‘Dream Job’ at a top-ten creative Ad Agency in London my vision of moving to the Big Smoke and becoming an uber-successful, respected media-type was finally coming to fruition, 2 ½ years after graduating.
Sadly things did not go the way I had hoped.
I will not go too far into the gory details, but let’s just say sometimes the idea of something is a far cry from the reality of it. Ever seen ‘The Devil wears Prada’?!
From day one the niggling doubts had already surfaced and began to gnaw away inside my head. Why was I still at the office at 7pm without having taken a lunch break on my first day? Was this ‘normal’?! By day three there were the first tears and an HR intervention. By the weekend the paranoid nightmares had begun (“Did I send the client that urgent document?”, “OhMyGod, you didn’t organise that meeting with the MD...or did you...?”, “Shit, tomorrow is the international conference call and I have no idea what to say!” etc...)
Exhaustion had set in by day five and there were more tears as I gradually realised that everything I thought I had wanted in a job was wrong. But then things seemed to get better... but not for long.
As with most things, it is always advisable to follow your gut instinct. I knew from the start that things weren’t right and yet I was so stubborn and determined to make it work out that I drove myself into the ground, until denial was simply not enough to cover the cracks anymore.
By the fourth week I had a panic attack on the tube on the way in to work – purely through stress and anxiety at the mere prospect of even having to go in. That night I cried and cried until I fell asleep – again purely through the worry of what to do – I couldn’t possibly throw this opportunity away and yet I couldn’t possibly stay. The next day after some firm words from my mum, boyfriend and friends I plucked up the courage to voice my feelings – this just was not working out the way I had hoped and through the pressure I was putting on myself my anxiety had increased tenfold.
The next day I handed my notice in – but with the promise of having a discussion with the Client Partner (my most senior manager) upon his return from holiday on the Monday about changing the role in an attempt to make me stay. Of course this was hugely flattering and yet it made my decision even harder for me. How could I possibly leave now?
The rest of the week was tearful and I had become a total recluse, instead of holding my head high as I walked to the station I dragged my feet, eyes facing the ground. I stopped wearing mascara because I knew that there would inevitably be tears. I didn’t want to eat or talk to any of my friends – just wanted to curl into a ball and ignore the rest of the world. All this over a job!
This probably sounds ridiculous to some of you – and I realise that in the great scale of things this was a minor glitch on an otherwise relatively clean sheet. And yet this work drama became all-consuming – I was at the office for 10 hours a day, commuting an hour and quarter either side of that, going straight to bed and having nightmares only to get up and do it all again the next day.
I finally summoned the courage to email my boss and say ‘Thanks, but no thanks’ on another tearful Saturday where it had simply gone too far and I knew that something had to be done. I immediately felt rejuvenated and relived. Simply by having taken control of the situation my whole outlook had changed – other jobs would come along and the bottom line was about happiness, not slaving away and struggling for years doing something detestable.
My decision was validated as I handed over to my replacement – as she clutched her face between her hands with that oh-so-familiar look of utter terror and imminent freaking out. For the first time in almost 5 ½ weeks I felt happy and my normal self as I walked out of the doors and didn’t look back.
So... back to the unemployed part... It’s not so bad – I already have an interview for a temporary role which should tide me over while I decide exactly what I want in a job and where I want to be. Recent events have shown me that it’s not about the name of the company you work for, nor the salary, nor the location that makes a job great. It’s about being comfortable, enjoying the work and actually wanting to be there.
The moral of the story? Follow your instincts and count your blessings – there is always someone who is far worse off than you. Life’s a bitch and whether it’s in your job, your relationships or your family life there are always going to be tough times so make the best of the hand you’re dealt with and always, always go with what feels right for you.
(I’d give Jerry Springer a run for his money!)
Over and out.
Six weeks ago I thought I’d hit the jackpot big-time. Having landed my ‘Dream Job’ at a top-ten creative Ad Agency in London my vision of moving to the Big Smoke and becoming an uber-successful, respected media-type was finally coming to fruition, 2 ½ years after graduating.
Sadly things did not go the way I had hoped.
I will not go too far into the gory details, but let’s just say sometimes the idea of something is a far cry from the reality of it. Ever seen ‘The Devil wears Prada’?!
From day one the niggling doubts had already surfaced and began to gnaw away inside my head. Why was I still at the office at 7pm without having taken a lunch break on my first day? Was this ‘normal’?! By day three there were the first tears and an HR intervention. By the weekend the paranoid nightmares had begun (“Did I send the client that urgent document?”, “OhMyGod, you didn’t organise that meeting with the MD...or did you...?”, “Shit, tomorrow is the international conference call and I have no idea what to say!” etc...)
Exhaustion had set in by day five and there were more tears as I gradually realised that everything I thought I had wanted in a job was wrong. But then things seemed to get better... but not for long.
As with most things, it is always advisable to follow your gut instinct. I knew from the start that things weren’t right and yet I was so stubborn and determined to make it work out that I drove myself into the ground, until denial was simply not enough to cover the cracks anymore.
By the fourth week I had a panic attack on the tube on the way in to work – purely through stress and anxiety at the mere prospect of even having to go in. That night I cried and cried until I fell asleep – again purely through the worry of what to do – I couldn’t possibly throw this opportunity away and yet I couldn’t possibly stay. The next day after some firm words from my mum, boyfriend and friends I plucked up the courage to voice my feelings – this just was not working out the way I had hoped and through the pressure I was putting on myself my anxiety had increased tenfold.
The next day I handed my notice in – but with the promise of having a discussion with the Client Partner (my most senior manager) upon his return from holiday on the Monday about changing the role in an attempt to make me stay. Of course this was hugely flattering and yet it made my decision even harder for me. How could I possibly leave now?
The rest of the week was tearful and I had become a total recluse, instead of holding my head high as I walked to the station I dragged my feet, eyes facing the ground. I stopped wearing mascara because I knew that there would inevitably be tears. I didn’t want to eat or talk to any of my friends – just wanted to curl into a ball and ignore the rest of the world. All this over a job!
This probably sounds ridiculous to some of you – and I realise that in the great scale of things this was a minor glitch on an otherwise relatively clean sheet. And yet this work drama became all-consuming – I was at the office for 10 hours a day, commuting an hour and quarter either side of that, going straight to bed and having nightmares only to get up and do it all again the next day.
I finally summoned the courage to email my boss and say ‘Thanks, but no thanks’ on another tearful Saturday where it had simply gone too far and I knew that something had to be done. I immediately felt rejuvenated and relived. Simply by having taken control of the situation my whole outlook had changed – other jobs would come along and the bottom line was about happiness, not slaving away and struggling for years doing something detestable.
My decision was validated as I handed over to my replacement – as she clutched her face between her hands with that oh-so-familiar look of utter terror and imminent freaking out. For the first time in almost 5 ½ weeks I felt happy and my normal self as I walked out of the doors and didn’t look back.
So... back to the unemployed part... It’s not so bad – I already have an interview for a temporary role which should tide me over while I decide exactly what I want in a job and where I want to be. Recent events have shown me that it’s not about the name of the company you work for, nor the salary, nor the location that makes a job great. It’s about being comfortable, enjoying the work and actually wanting to be there.
The moral of the story? Follow your instincts and count your blessings – there is always someone who is far worse off than you. Life’s a bitch and whether it’s in your job, your relationships or your family life there are always going to be tough times so make the best of the hand you’re dealt with and always, always go with what feels right for you.
(I’d give Jerry Springer a run for his money!)
Over and out.
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