Office Politics

In a hypothetical situation last week, colleague A and B were witnessed by many others, being rather unprofessional. Colleague A (aka CA) knows a lot of things about the organisation that others do not, and Colleague B (aka CB) was keen to get the goss. CB met with CA to talk about it. They did this rather indiscreetly, in a full glass plated office, for all the office to see. It was obvious that there goss to be dished and it made all very uncomfortable and uneasy. Emails started flying between the uncomfortable ones (aka uncomfyones), asking what the hell was going on and how pathetic CA and CB were.

As it turns out, CA (back at desk) started to read one of the uncomfyones’ emails about the atmosphere CA and CB created. CA was pissed to the max. Sent out a rather harsh email and the pressures of their job and how the information they know, they didn’t want to be privy to.

Met with silence, the uncomfyones decided to avoid all contact and proceed to work. CA cracked it today (hypothetically, of course), demanded to meet with us. They were met with declines, which infuriated CA further. Meanwhile, as usual, CB is nowhere to be found. This is pretty normal, when the shit hits the fan, CB gets out of there.

Anyway, CA cracked it today. The uncomfyones do not like confrontation and CA does. Bad match, right? CA lost and did not get to yell and carry on. There were no indiscreet meetings with indiscreet discussions. There was no satisfaction given to CA.

You see, CA is young, 25 and young. Idealistic and full of themselves. They are an over-achiever. They want to be in the know. They believe they should be in the know.

CB is 30ish, a cad, boyish, conniving, selfish and egotistical. He grins and people bow down before him. He likes to know the gossip. He’s an old gossip.
See the attraction?

This is what life can be like in hypothetical land. Political, conniving and unfaithful. You realise that you cannot trust anyone. This is a bad realisation. It’s lonely, but it’s a motto that I have lived by ever since beginning work. There’s a lesson to be learnt from this experience. Be careful of who you speak to at work, don’t say too much and don’t say anything that you don’t want others to know. It’ll always get back to them.

Remember, emails have bcc, people have prying eyes and you don’t have to tell the caller on the other end of the line that there’s someone else in the room.

Yesterday was just one of those days when I wished I hadn’t got out of bed.

I walked out of work yesterday afternoon, excited about the impending day off work in lieu of Anzac Day, jumped on my bike, turned the key and pressed the button. AND. NOTHING!

The bike had no juice in it. Nothing WHAT SO EVER!! It was dead. Done. Dusted. Nada! Nil! Zilch!

I called Glen in a panic. He’d been to the dentist earlier in the day and had a numb and impending sore mouth. In the end, after about an hour of ringing around to the various tow truck and bike shop operators who didn’t give a crap, we decided to call the RACV. That in itself was a debacle as my scooter was not listed in our member care. So, Glen had to pay $100 or whatever to get the bike listed and then RACV tells him that they won’t provide roadside assistance, but they will tow! Yay for me.  Finally, the tow truck operator arrived at about 7.30pm and tolerating a little grumpiness, I helped him load the bike onto the rather large flatbed truck. I arrived home around 8.30pm and we hauled the bike into the garage and collapsed inside the house.

I later discovered that I stupidly left the bike on Park. PARK! How does a freakin’ bike have a park switch on the ignition and why does one need it?! Apparently in park, the lights are left on park and the battery is subsequently drained of all life. I feel stupid. How does one not realise that there’s a park switch on her bike? How does one own the bike since November and avoid this drama until now?!

I still can’t believe how dense I was. Today, of course the bike’s battery has been charged and my baby is back to normal. Except, that during the towing, the tow truck driver had to tiedown my bike which meant applying pressure to plastic parts of the bike. As a result, the fuel cap cover has been damaged and I’ll probably need to replace it.

I should probably read the manual. That would be a good idea.

Anyway, it could be worse, right? Right.

Something I learnt at university has really been ringing true for me the last few days. It was within my Communications courses that I learnt about Senders, Receivers and Messages.

You see, the Sender can send the intended Message, but this does not necessarily mean that the Receiver receives the intended message in the intended format. I know, confusing, but think about it. Sometimes the message gets skewed - there might be noise that changes the meaning of the message, or the Receiver might receive the Message with preconceived ideas or life experience that prevents them from receiving the Message in its intended form.

Thanks for your comments to my last post. It’s good to know people are reading. Well, at least dropping by. But you know, I wasn’t criticising anyone’s decision on the matter. It was a rant about annoying people at both work and in my personal life who make decisions on serious matters based on narrow-minded and ill-informed opinions and I find that sort of behaviour very frustrating.

I don’t generally make a practice of criticising the choices people make, so long as they are well-thought out decisions based on their own research and experience. Not based on the scare mongering tactics they choose to listen to, or the experience of one person amongst a world of millions.

I’ve learnt a lot in the process. Sometimes it’s just better to rant and not seek feedback and no matter how you intend the receiver to receive the message, sometimes it just might not make it out the other end in the same format. Kinda like Chinese Whispers, right?

Where in the world is Samantha?

I know that an update to this page is long overdue, but to be honest, I’ve spent more time on the potty, than I have with my laptop or anywhere else. I have the dreaded gastro and I have been a slave to the porcelain god since Friday night. Saw the doctor on Monday and was basically told to weather it, drink plenty of water, eat bland foods and purchase Imodium. I have done all of these things. However, I spend all night up and down to the toilet and completely wiped out during the day, but my relationship with the toilet is non-existent.

Anyway, I’m working hard on putting together an entry about our holidays etc. So, bear with me. I’m suffering here and my brain is addled. Although, last night was a delight because I actually awoke this morning and realised that I had slept through the night without keeping an appointment with the toilet bowl. Yay for me! The downside is I had a text message from my mother this morning (she had arrived in Sydney and awaiting the last part of her journey) to tell me she had gastro. I felt terrible. Being on a train is no fun as it is, and worse when you have gastro. She is currently waiting at the front door of her house for the people who have been feeding her animals, to turn up with the key! Must be hellish!

Anyway, stay tuned…

Every woman’s worst nightmare

Going to the doctor about such things is hard enough, and this makes it worse.

No wonder most of us seek female doctors, who have more sense than to make jokes about it. Although, my doctor makes jokes about it, but more like, “Ehh, don’t you wish you could avoid such things?!”

Not this.

And I thought that it would rain…

Blue Funk, Depression, Blah-ness. There are too many words to describe the feeling I sink into this feeling every Christmas. I seem to have succumbed to the foggy haze that surrounds me and it shits me. I see no real purpose to it, nor do I understand why it happens. I get it every Christmas and have done so since I was about 17. There’s no real reason that it started happening and it disappears without warning.

I have always prided myself on being able to adapt to change. I have always embraced it with great enthusiasm. I left my little home town at the age of 17 to travel across the state to attend university. I was challenged and fulfilled and at the end, I travelled across the world to meet friends, see a bit more of the earth and change myself. I did it all. I have moved to various placed without knowing anyone before I met Glen online and took the plunge by moving states, without a job and without an idea of the future.

These days, I’m beginning to become afraid of change. I don’t like it, and in fact, I crave stability. I know it’s a sign of age and nesting, but let’s not go there - yet.

My world is changing again and I don’t like it.

During the last six months or so, I have been reminiscing about the past, more specifically, high school. Quite frankly, my memories have been prompted by the songs I listen to, and my memories are closely associated to the songs of the time. I can tell you a story of my youth by the songs from the time.

These are some of the songs that evoke very strong, and sometimes emotional memories:

Big Audio Dynamite - Rush. 1991

Paula Abdul - Rush, Rush. 1992

Luther Van Dross and Janet Jackson - The Best Things in Life Are Free. 1992
Boyz to Men - End of the Road. 1992

Wendy Matthews - The Day You Went Away. 1992

Bryan Adams - Everything I do, I do for you. 1991

Daryl Braithwaite - The Horse (Sarah!) 1991

Londonbeat - I’ve been Thinking about you. 1991

Right Said Fred - I’m too Sexy. 1991

Sinead O’Connor - Nothing Compares to You. 1990

Roxette - It Must Have Been Love. 1990

Milli Vanilli - Girl I’m Gonna Miss you. 1990

Peter Blakely - Crying in the Chapel. 1990

1927 - If I Could. 1989

Grayson Hugh - Talk It Over. 1989

Billy Joel - We Didn’t Start the Fire. 1989

Glenn Medeiros - Nothing’s Going to Change my Love for you. 1988

It sounds a bit naff and I suppose it is, but I didn’t find much solace or whatever in the songs from 1993. It wasn’t the best year for me and it was also the year I turned 17, around the time I started to realise life wasn’t filled with roses and sunshine like we all thought it would be. I lost a lot. I can think of a lot of things that I lost, but the biggest one was losing my best friend. My childhood started to fade, and I guess adulthood was imminent. I think we all wanted it badly, but I don’t think we really understood what was waiting for us. More importantly, we didn’t know how to deal with it and we said and did a lot of things to our friends, that we came to realise as mistakes.

I’m not sure where I am going with this. I’ve just been feeling lonely for this time of my life. I guess there were a couple of good years of what I can only describe, as innocence and blind aspiration. We were free to roam, we had friends nearby, we hung out every weekend but we aspired for more and we all had our dreams. I dreamed of being a journalist, others wanted to be veterinarians, teachers etc. And then there were the friends who kept scrapbooks filled with magazine pictures. Of what, you ask? Their ideal weddings, the homes they would live in, the clothes they would wear. I remember it clearly, I remember thinking it was kinda cool, but I never had the inclination for it. I never had names picked for my children, didn’t know how many I wanted.

Why?

I was too busy riding my bicycle around town, sleeping over at friends’ houses, watching Anne of Green Gables, swooning over Shannon and Bill, swooning more so over Gilbert and trying very hard to understand the concept of the “bush fire” talks we got from our youth group leaders. In the background, but always in the foreground, the need or rather the push from elders within our church to take religion into our hearts and live and breathe it. Something, which I never truly embraced, but more like became peer pressured into pretending I accepted it all.

It’s funny; at the time, we all hated our lives, we wished for something better, to get out of town and begin our lives. But you know, I look back now with fondness.  I don’t know why, but I spent a lot of time being moody, feeling like I didnt belong, wishing to be somewhere, where I was understood.

I’ve got a lot of thought swimming around my brain. Many of them relate to this part of my life. It helps for me to remember these things, to write them down and feel them. I feel so full of words, too many jumbled memories, too many to pour out into words right now, but I’ll get there.  You are forewarned.

By the way, I got my dream to become a journalist. But you know what? It was not all it was cracked up to be, and as a result, I spent about four years in the industry before realising the dream was not the reality I wanted it to be.

PS: Still on hiatus, just talking to myself.

Frailties of Life

Any of us Aussies would have been touched by the tragedy that was Belinda Emmett’s passing. For those who don’t know her, she was a famous tv star in the 90s on tv shows like Home and A*way and All Sa*ints. She was the blonde girl next door.  Her story is simple. She found a lump when she was 21, she ignored it until she was 24. At that time, it was diagnosed as malignant and she began her journey through operation after operation, chemotherapy and radiotherapy. She came out the other end in remission until a few years later when she was diagnosed with secondary bone cancer in her spine. She fought and remained positive. She found love and lived her life to the full. And of course, her life ended on Saturday morning.

I guess my point is that her passing, although not unexpected - eventually, did strike a cord in my life. To be honest, I have become a little obsessed about it and a little more than afraid of breast cancer.  It’s not to say that I wasn’t afraid of it before, but it has obviously brought it to the surface. It’s not a nice thought, but instead of taking charge and examining myself, I choose to hide and once every two years, I allow myself to succumb to a papsmear and breast exam from the doctor.

I am supremely slack and a big fact chicken. I may pay for being a wuss if I don’t take responsibility for my life.

When I was about 15, my mother found a lump. I remember walking to school in shock after she had told me that morning. It scared me, but it was only on the surface, for I successfully told myself that all would be ok.

But what if it hadn’t been? What if I had gone home that afternoon and been told her lump was malignant?

Luckily I don’t have to worry about that, because Mum’s lump was just fatty tissue and all is well for her.

If you are a female reading this, please don’t be afraid to check, or have someone check for you. I’m going to make a commitment to myself and to Glen - because me being alive matters a lot to him, to check myself each month. And in this blog, if I can remember, I shall remind you all each month, which I suppose is a bit naff, but tell me that when you or someone you know, saves themselves a bunch of crap to deal with.

Live as if your were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. — Gandhi

Life’s Lessons

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn’t supposed to
ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken, probably
more than once, and it’s harder every time. You’ll break hearts too, so
remember how it felt when yours was broken. You’ll fight with your best
friend. You’ll blame a new love for things an old one did.

You’ll cry because time is passing too fast, and you’ll eventually lose
someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like
you’ve never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a
minute of happiness you’ll never get back.

Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when
you hang up on him, who will stay awake just to watch you sleep.

Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the
world when you are in your sweats, who holds your hand in front of his
friends. Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he
cares about you and how lucky he is to have you. Wait for the one who turns
to his friends and says, “that’s her…”

Protected: Holding my breath

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When you wished you possessed the flexibility…

Suzuki Burgman 400
Originally uploaded by Sams76.

Over the last few years, I have become inherently aware of myself, my personality and all the annoying aspects which come with knowing me, and being my friend.

No, I am not picking at myself, or being critical. I am simply being aware of who I am.

I am the person, who when asked how they are, gives you more information than you really asked for. One example is my new chiropractor. The poor man asked me why I had come to him and left my old chiropractor. Any normal person would have invented something simple and without dilemma, not me. I told him the truth – the long winded, drawn out version.

What was the truth?

I babbled. It sounded a bit like this:
Sam: “Mr Nice Chiropractor Man, I came to see you because I cannot see my old chiro. This is because I just sold my lovely scooter, the source of my freedom, so that I can save for a better scooter. This would mean that I would no longer have to suffer being tailgated on the freeways, that I can outrun any annoying vehicles and travel in style!”
Chiro: Nods and asks me to turn my head to the left.
Sam: “So, I have sold my scooter and I cannot see my old chiro. However, it’s convenient to come here, as it’s across the road from work and that’s useful! As it is, I wouldn’t be able to see you if I had to find transport there. Because, remember I have sold my source of freedom and general transport!”
Chiro: Rolls eyes and asks me to turn my head to the right.
Sam: General babble about missing scooter.

Words fail me here, like they don’t, but really should in situations like this. I often volunteer far more information than I should. When people ask me how I am, I need to learn to ignore the truth of it all, be fake and respond, “Fine!” However, I am just not very good at the small talk, so I talk about the stuff I know – my life.

The scary part of it is that I never really hear myself babbling about scooters and how I came to be on a chiropractor’s table discussing them. It is only in retrospect that I hear myself and shudder.

It’s just as well really, I am not fond of this chiropractor and I am sure that once I get my new scooter, I’ll go back to my old chiro, who doesn’t mind a bit of scooter chatter – for the last 3 years, he’s been telling me he’ll buy one. Maybe when he sees this baby sitting out the front, he’ll get the bug.

PS: You might ask about the meaning of the title. Ever wondered when if foot in mouth disease was ever very useful? It’s times like these when I really wish I couldn’t get a sentence out, that I wish for a very large, not so hairy foot, to be shoved in my gob, thereby preventing me from looking like a babbling fool.