oh say! Can you see by the dawn's early light. American culture is an incredible thing. I have been unable to put my finger on exactly what causes the patriotism. Exactly what it is about their military, flag and teams that makes them tick so much. It has to be something which is passed through generations and instilled in youngsters at a very tender age.
I mean it to be no sleight to American people when i see there is almost a juvenile love for their country and teams. I reiterate teams because the support, pride and passion that people show for their teams over here is on the same route (still pronounced "root" for me, not "rout") as they do for their entire nation.
For example, the four main teams which people from San Jose follow are the San Jose Sharks (hockey), San Francisco Giants (baseball), San Francisco 49ers (football) and Golden State Warriors (basketball). If i go for a walk outside of the apartment complex, i am almost certain to see at least one person wearing some paraphernalia for each of these teams. Given they are World Series (sic) champs in the baseball, there is so many Giants hats and shirts everywhere that you would think every day is game day (which is almost true) and that the stadium was right around the corner (not the truth!). As well as this, i am likely to find something or someone with an American flag on it.
Going to a game is a whole different story. This is where i make my point about a juvenile affection and love for their team and country. I grew out of my seriously involved fan days in about 2011. I still like watching my Penrith Panthers play and now understand that a win usually means three losses to follow but there is no growing out of this at all in America. At a ball game this week we sat next to a young family who had a 20 month old child with them. The child had apparently been to lots of games already and was yelling "Go giants!" all the time. You see grown men going to games with gloves, hoping to catch a home run from their favourite player or a foul ball from the opposition so they can be seen on the big screen throwing it back. This bit still does something with me. Grown men walking into stadiums and sitting down, punching their glove and waiting for their chance. It seems such a juvenile thing to do but this is their passion. This is their team! And of course, losing is not an option. Every game is there to be won.
The same goes with hockey. Ice Hockey is a weird sport. Three periods of 20 minutes and fifteen minute breaks between each period. i suppose this gives ample time to use bathrooms, buy more weak beer and eat more fattening foods. They will play music and try to get people pumped/interested in this time and you will inevitably find some older gent see himself on the big screen and lift up his shirt and dance wildly. Wanting to get the crowd going and behind him. Don't get me wrong. The AFL have their grannies, NRL has it's bogans, Union has it's graduates and A-League has its rioters but for each sport in America, there is no specific demographic. There is an even, widespread fan base split across ages, socio-economic groups and ethnicities. It is incredible.
I believe that this is definitely linked to the feelings that Americans have for their nation. Maybe it is because they see the world as a competitive event. The passion in terms of positivity, optimism and belief is astounding. Fans believe that their team can do nothing wrong. And there is definitely an undertone of that when they speak of their nation as well.
Their players are their troops. Their team, their nation. The respect and optimism is something that can not be taught. And don't get the impression that i am being negative in anything i have said here. It is admirable. It is remarkable. I have been moved witnessing the cheering and singing during their national anthem. The honour given to returned troops and military personnel (especially around Memorial Day). this is something which will take generations to build. The solidarity, the unity. There is the optimism that anything is possible. That they can do anything and achieve anything. It gives proof to the world that their flag is still there.
Wednesday, 29 May 2013
Friday, 17 May 2013
Subtle dronings, differences & diversions
There are something which i feel potential employers would find unnerving about a candidate sending a resume in any time after 10pm at night. It shrilly squawks "insomniac" or "head-case" or even "nut-job." Due to this I have given myself little choice but to write blogs when I struggle to sleep. Don't get me wrong, i can sleep just fine. It is just usually between 4am and noon. This does no good to anyone.
I realised tonight that it has been one month since the original job offer I received. It was with a dodgy sort of company and the hours were not ideal. In hindsight, all i can think of is the lost income. This next week has to be the week where dreams come true. A slight hindrance is the door-to-door sales aspect of, seemingly, every customer service job in America. I could not sell miracle knives and keep a straight face. Bar and hospitality jobs are an idea but their hours ignore the reason i am here. Why would i work nights and weekends when i am on this adventure, mostly, to be with Laura. Seeing as we are getting on famously, there is no reason to try and avoid her!
Thought i would take the time to give some differences that i have come across. In terms of the music festival, i was so blissfully aware of the lack of dickheads at Coachella. No agro, no sleeve tattoos, very few people there to show off their steroid cycles. This was completely different to what i was used to back home. Be it a bigger appreciation of the actual music, the laid back nature of Californians or that this demographic has not discovered music festivals yet (face it, they have gun shows to contend with...), it was an aspect i enjoyed and reveled in.
Last weekend I discovered a huge cultural difference between the two nations. Particularly amongst their men. I had a few drinks last Friday night and made my way to the men's room. It was small and there were more individual toilet blocks than i was used to and a two (maybe three man) urinal. I calmly found a place and did my thing until an American walked in and saw that this was the only viable option. He must have been desperate as he sort of half giggled and moved past me stating "this is the gay-est pisser ever." This was nothing, i thought. I tried to tell him of the pros of the trough but he would not have a bar of it. I was reminded of a game I went to at Penrith Park once when a friend told me to use a specific bathroom and see the "trough of legends" that went as far as the eye could see. Maybe it is a homophobic thing, a self conscious thing... i won't look into it too much. But it is definitely a thing.
The bar scene in San Jose is interesting. I have been to most venues by now although most people seem to settle on the Wagon Wheel of a Friday night. This has a Peachy feel due to the beer garden but it is much nicer and filled with people of a lot more respectable demeanor. And! They totally encourage the playing of drinking games. Beer pong, flip cup... anything you can think of with a cup and a ping pong ball, they will let you do it!! It makes it so much easier to talk to people and everyone is, mostly, there to enjoy it all and have a good time. Being America, there is an option for a much larger than necessary beer at the bar. Both times i have been here people have bought me a drink and both times it has been the big one. I think it is the "he's an Australian" thing. They probably expect me to either skull it or smash it over someone's head.
Every American man i have encountered in bars asks me the same question - "would i be able to pick up Australian girls if i visited?" It is honestly the only thing they all have in common. I decide to just give a resounding "yes" and state that they have accents, are exotic, interesting and disposable. It is way easier and safer than finding reasons why they would not be able to.
This weekend has a wine tasting festival and party in San Francisco in store which, no doubt, promises to be fun, frenetic and fabulous! Bring it on! Along with a hair cut tomorrow which will surely bring a renewed sense of confidence, self and ability! Plus, i want to look amazing at Lor's graduation ceremony next week!
I realised tonight that it has been one month since the original job offer I received. It was with a dodgy sort of company and the hours were not ideal. In hindsight, all i can think of is the lost income. This next week has to be the week where dreams come true. A slight hindrance is the door-to-door sales aspect of, seemingly, every customer service job in America. I could not sell miracle knives and keep a straight face. Bar and hospitality jobs are an idea but their hours ignore the reason i am here. Why would i work nights and weekends when i am on this adventure, mostly, to be with Laura. Seeing as we are getting on famously, there is no reason to try and avoid her!
Thought i would take the time to give some differences that i have come across. In terms of the music festival, i was so blissfully aware of the lack of dickheads at Coachella. No agro, no sleeve tattoos, very few people there to show off their steroid cycles. This was completely different to what i was used to back home. Be it a bigger appreciation of the actual music, the laid back nature of Californians or that this demographic has not discovered music festivals yet (face it, they have gun shows to contend with...), it was an aspect i enjoyed and reveled in.
Last weekend I discovered a huge cultural difference between the two nations. Particularly amongst their men. I had a few drinks last Friday night and made my way to the men's room. It was small and there were more individual toilet blocks than i was used to and a two (maybe three man) urinal. I calmly found a place and did my thing until an American walked in and saw that this was the only viable option. He must have been desperate as he sort of half giggled and moved past me stating "this is the gay-est pisser ever." This was nothing, i thought. I tried to tell him of the pros of the trough but he would not have a bar of it. I was reminded of a game I went to at Penrith Park once when a friend told me to use a specific bathroom and see the "trough of legends" that went as far as the eye could see. Maybe it is a homophobic thing, a self conscious thing... i won't look into it too much. But it is definitely a thing.
The bar scene in San Jose is interesting. I have been to most venues by now although most people seem to settle on the Wagon Wheel of a Friday night. This has a Peachy feel due to the beer garden but it is much nicer and filled with people of a lot more respectable demeanor. And! They totally encourage the playing of drinking games. Beer pong, flip cup... anything you can think of with a cup and a ping pong ball, they will let you do it!! It makes it so much easier to talk to people and everyone is, mostly, there to enjoy it all and have a good time. Being America, there is an option for a much larger than necessary beer at the bar. Both times i have been here people have bought me a drink and both times it has been the big one. I think it is the "he's an Australian" thing. They probably expect me to either skull it or smash it over someone's head.
Every American man i have encountered in bars asks me the same question - "would i be able to pick up Australian girls if i visited?" It is honestly the only thing they all have in common. I decide to just give a resounding "yes" and state that they have accents, are exotic, interesting and disposable. It is way easier and safer than finding reasons why they would not be able to.
This weekend has a wine tasting festival and party in San Francisco in store which, no doubt, promises to be fun, frenetic and fabulous! Bring it on! Along with a hair cut tomorrow which will surely bring a renewed sense of confidence, self and ability! Plus, i want to look amazing at Lor's graduation ceremony next week!
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
The perfect San Francisco Day!
I was very excited to hang out with my brother in San Francisco. He knows where to go and what to do in every situation. He sent us an email a couple of weeks ago stating he would be there for one day and then gave a comprehensive itinerary of the things we could do but added the disclaimer "unless you want to do something else." It looked incredible and me and Laura had no hesitation in agreeing to his plans.
The morning came and we hit the road the earliest that we have on a weekend since my arrival. The first destination was a bakery named Tartine for brunch. I checked its website and it looked fantastic. We were excited, and about 25 minutes early, so after finding the perfect parking spot (right outside) we joined a long line for Tartine! Knowing my brother, Bernard, I assumed there would be a line. But this line was out of control!! Bernard arrived and we had a good catch up and chat about his work trip and what he had been up to. There was a suggestion of leaving the line and going somewhere else when, as if on cue, the most tantalizing aroma wafted through the air. That settled it, we were staying!
After about forty minutes we got a glimpse of the pastries. We gasped at the lemon meringue cake! After all this wait, we still did not know what to get! I settled with a gougere with Lor & Bernard choosing the croque Monsieur. We all got a morning bun to go with it! Around the corner we found a park with blazing sunshine and gorgeous people lazing on the slope. We decided to join them and gorged on our brunch. It was delicious. I had order envy but Lor was generous enough to share hers. We hit the morning buns and were blown away all over again. Light cinnamon buns with a subtle orange flavor. It was incredible. Instead of giving into our food comas we decided to walk, up hill, towards Haight Street.
We went through the Castro district and past nice looking clothes shops, bars and cafes. Bernard was navigating and we soon found ourselves on top of hilltops and at lookouts enjoying the San Francisco view! At one stage we went through a hole in a wire fence to find a path which kept us headed in the right direction. That part was not on the guide.
Finally we made Haight Street and walked up towards the top of it to the bike rental company. We were given competent enough looking bikes and helmets (which Bernard insisted upon) and rode down to Golden Gate Park. A park like this, so close to the middle of the city, is such a beacon on any city and it was a melting of sporting, cultural and bizarre activities. We stopped briefly to take place in a free Lindy-Hop dance lesson in the park. We did our own thing but it was a lot of fun! Our first stop was the DeYoung museum which had a Dutch exhibition of masterpieces from artists such as Rembrandt and Vermeer. The most famous being The Girl with the Pearl Earring. It was Mona Lisa-esque for enchantment and allure and incredible to think we had the opportunity to see it!
The crowd were interesting and Bernard and I enjoyed listening to the comments of other people. One man stated that the perspective of the light in a Rembrandt was "off" and a woman began comparing herself to Rembrandt at one stage. Then she got told off for standing too close to the painting. I think some of the painting's shadow was on her nose for the rest of the day!
We rode on after taking in as much as we could, heading towards the ocean along the Great Highway for a local beer at the Beach Chalet! The ride was maybe starting to take some toll and this freshen up was definitely necessary. We continued riding again, back through the park, and past the bisons. This was a bit depressing. We saw two of them and they looked very unhappy. Think the kangaroos that wander around Featherdale Farm - emotionless, lethargic and bored.
Following this we passed a few people on segue's (i wonder why that fad never took off?) and a roller disco thing going on, complete with Grandmaster Flash playing in the background and a guy giving directions. Turns out that this does happen in real life! It definitely pulled a bewildered, giggling crowd!
The next destination was to be the Golden Gate bridge itself. Something i was really looking forward to. The fog had been following us all day but it seemed to be clearing up into the most brilliant, gorgeous day! We had been going on the flat for most of the ride but we found a whole lot of hills as we took the roads and trails towards the bridge. At one stage, we climbed to the top of one of the steepest parts of the ride and then enjoyed the downhill section. IT is easy to get carried away enjoying the downhill parts and not realising how fast you were actually going. I was at the back, with Laura in the middle. I liked keeping an eye on her and also it meant i would not get carried away and take off. Soon, i found myself not overtaking Laura but overtaking cars. I was not pedaling but this long stretch of downhill saw us all picking up a lot of speed. Startled, i eased off and used the breaks carefully which meant i fell further behind. Up ahead i saw Bernard seem to make the same realisation and possibly panic. He may have slammed the breaks and subsequently fishtailed and almost hit the ground very hard. Luckily only a small graze but a reminder of what could potentially happen! He was up straight away insisting he was fine and that we should just keep riding bikes.
There was no whinging or complaining despite the hills and we all enjoyed the ride. Past the coast, up the hills, through cute neighbourhoods and beautiful gardens. At this stage we were on the road with the cars and following street signs accordingly. We saw all of the cars turning a sharp left and almost made the turn too... on instinct Laura said that it did not look right. This would have found us on the bridge itself with the cars. Thank goodness we did not make this turn! Laura said that she had cousins who made that mistake and that t was the most frightening of experiences! It did not take long for the right route to make itself known and we went past the walkers to the bike trail and onto the bridge itself. How exhilarating! It was absolutely thrilling to be riding across the Bridge featured in the opening scene of Full House and the views of the city, coastline and other side were beyond belief!
Plenty of people in lycra zoomed past and lamented the social riders taking pictures or going too slow. It seems that lycra clad cyclists are the same no matter which city you are in. Rather than trek on, uphill to a lookout we turned around and headed back with Fisherman's Wharf being our final destination. By this stage there were a few comments of "I'm over it now" and legs were becoming more and more sore!
We went past an outdoor yoga festival, through the parks, piers and people towards Fisherman's Wharf. We spoke of things that we had done at the beginning of the day and realised it felt like it all happened days ago! It was insane how much we were able to fit into one day. The sister store of the bicycle rental place was found with the help of Bernard and his trusty map and we took pleasure in jumping off and walking around, albeit unnaturally! The hunger indicator had been upgraded from curious, to peckish, to starving in a matter of minutes and we settled on an Italian restaurant just across the road and gorged on as much as we could. Ben & Jerry's followed on the way to a taxi!
Bernard was dropped off and many thanks were tiredly communicated as our exhaustion began to take over our entire bodies. Surely Bernard would now be straight off to bed. He had orchestrated and carried out the most wonderful day in San Francisco. We continued to where we had parked, out the front of the bakery and began to become a bit worried thinking of the fact that we had parked, in one place, for almost ten hours without paying anything! We came across a corner, saw no wheel jack and no parking infringements!! The perfect day continued.
We looked at the bakery, the lack of line, and gave into temptation. That lemon meringue cake had been haunting my daydreams all day!
The drive home was, of course, perfect and easy, as we tried to remember each detail, go over every mile and believe all that we had been able to do in one single day. If you only are given 24 hours in San Francisco, please do this. You will never regret it or forget it.
The morning came and we hit the road the earliest that we have on a weekend since my arrival. The first destination was a bakery named Tartine for brunch. I checked its website and it looked fantastic. We were excited, and about 25 minutes early, so after finding the perfect parking spot (right outside) we joined a long line for Tartine! Knowing my brother, Bernard, I assumed there would be a line. But this line was out of control!! Bernard arrived and we had a good catch up and chat about his work trip and what he had been up to. There was a suggestion of leaving the line and going somewhere else when, as if on cue, the most tantalizing aroma wafted through the air. That settled it, we were staying!
After about forty minutes we got a glimpse of the pastries. We gasped at the lemon meringue cake! After all this wait, we still did not know what to get! I settled with a gougere with Lor & Bernard choosing the croque Monsieur. We all got a morning bun to go with it! Around the corner we found a park with blazing sunshine and gorgeous people lazing on the slope. We decided to join them and gorged on our brunch. It was delicious. I had order envy but Lor was generous enough to share hers. We hit the morning buns and were blown away all over again. Light cinnamon buns with a subtle orange flavor. It was incredible. Instead of giving into our food comas we decided to walk, up hill, towards Haight Street.
We went through the Castro district and past nice looking clothes shops, bars and cafes. Bernard was navigating and we soon found ourselves on top of hilltops and at lookouts enjoying the San Francisco view! At one stage we went through a hole in a wire fence to find a path which kept us headed in the right direction. That part was not on the guide.
Finally we made Haight Street and walked up towards the top of it to the bike rental company. We were given competent enough looking bikes and helmets (which Bernard insisted upon) and rode down to Golden Gate Park. A park like this, so close to the middle of the city, is such a beacon on any city and it was a melting of sporting, cultural and bizarre activities. We stopped briefly to take place in a free Lindy-Hop dance lesson in the park. We did our own thing but it was a lot of fun! Our first stop was the DeYoung museum which had a Dutch exhibition of masterpieces from artists such as Rembrandt and Vermeer. The most famous being The Girl with the Pearl Earring. It was Mona Lisa-esque for enchantment and allure and incredible to think we had the opportunity to see it!
The crowd were interesting and Bernard and I enjoyed listening to the comments of other people. One man stated that the perspective of the light in a Rembrandt was "off" and a woman began comparing herself to Rembrandt at one stage. Then she got told off for standing too close to the painting. I think some of the painting's shadow was on her nose for the rest of the day!
We rode on after taking in as much as we could, heading towards the ocean along the Great Highway for a local beer at the Beach Chalet! The ride was maybe starting to take some toll and this freshen up was definitely necessary. We continued riding again, back through the park, and past the bisons. This was a bit depressing. We saw two of them and they looked very unhappy. Think the kangaroos that wander around Featherdale Farm - emotionless, lethargic and bored.
Following this we passed a few people on segue's (i wonder why that fad never took off?) and a roller disco thing going on, complete with Grandmaster Flash playing in the background and a guy giving directions. Turns out that this does happen in real life! It definitely pulled a bewildered, giggling crowd!
The next destination was to be the Golden Gate bridge itself. Something i was really looking forward to. The fog had been following us all day but it seemed to be clearing up into the most brilliant, gorgeous day! We had been going on the flat for most of the ride but we found a whole lot of hills as we took the roads and trails towards the bridge. At one stage, we climbed to the top of one of the steepest parts of the ride and then enjoyed the downhill section. IT is easy to get carried away enjoying the downhill parts and not realising how fast you were actually going. I was at the back, with Laura in the middle. I liked keeping an eye on her and also it meant i would not get carried away and take off. Soon, i found myself not overtaking Laura but overtaking cars. I was not pedaling but this long stretch of downhill saw us all picking up a lot of speed. Startled, i eased off and used the breaks carefully which meant i fell further behind. Up ahead i saw Bernard seem to make the same realisation and possibly panic. He may have slammed the breaks and subsequently fishtailed and almost hit the ground very hard. Luckily only a small graze but a reminder of what could potentially happen! He was up straight away insisting he was fine and that we should just keep riding bikes.
There was no whinging or complaining despite the hills and we all enjoyed the ride. Past the coast, up the hills, through cute neighbourhoods and beautiful gardens. At this stage we were on the road with the cars and following street signs accordingly. We saw all of the cars turning a sharp left and almost made the turn too... on instinct Laura said that it did not look right. This would have found us on the bridge itself with the cars. Thank goodness we did not make this turn! Laura said that she had cousins who made that mistake and that t was the most frightening of experiences! It did not take long for the right route to make itself known and we went past the walkers to the bike trail and onto the bridge itself. How exhilarating! It was absolutely thrilling to be riding across the Bridge featured in the opening scene of Full House and the views of the city, coastline and other side were beyond belief!
Plenty of people in lycra zoomed past and lamented the social riders taking pictures or going too slow. It seems that lycra clad cyclists are the same no matter which city you are in. Rather than trek on, uphill to a lookout we turned around and headed back with Fisherman's Wharf being our final destination. By this stage there were a few comments of "I'm over it now" and legs were becoming more and more sore!
We went past an outdoor yoga festival, through the parks, piers and people towards Fisherman's Wharf. We spoke of things that we had done at the beginning of the day and realised it felt like it all happened days ago! It was insane how much we were able to fit into one day. The sister store of the bicycle rental place was found with the help of Bernard and his trusty map and we took pleasure in jumping off and walking around, albeit unnaturally! The hunger indicator had been upgraded from curious, to peckish, to starving in a matter of minutes and we settled on an Italian restaurant just across the road and gorged on as much as we could. Ben & Jerry's followed on the way to a taxi!
Bernard was dropped off and many thanks were tiredly communicated as our exhaustion began to take over our entire bodies. Surely Bernard would now be straight off to bed. He had orchestrated and carried out the most wonderful day in San Francisco. We continued to where we had parked, out the front of the bakery and began to become a bit worried thinking of the fact that we had parked, in one place, for almost ten hours without paying anything! We came across a corner, saw no wheel jack and no parking infringements!! The perfect day continued.
We looked at the bakery, the lack of line, and gave into temptation. That lemon meringue cake had been haunting my daydreams all day!
The drive home was, of course, perfect and easy, as we tried to remember each detail, go over every mile and believe all that we had been able to do in one single day. If you only are given 24 hours in San Francisco, please do this. You will never regret it or forget it.
Saturday, 11 May 2013
Le travail de la boulangerie française la plus courte jamais
Okay, any French linguists out there, i apologise for the obvious google translate (to your eyes). I loved studying french 1A. I had a lot of fun with it. Not so much the learning. Just being there, making a cool friend and pretending i was mastering it. I butchered it. It's hard. But that's not the point here. The point is i scored a seemingly sweet job working at a French bakery!
The first interview was swell. The young man interviewed me and we got along well - had a nice chat. He was starting the business and seemed on top of things, enough, for it to hit the ground running. I got a second interview which was a group situation. American businesses love group interviews. Maybe it has something to do with survivor being in its umpteenth season but next time i might try and knock someone out of the running, literally, so as to outwit, outplay and outdo...or something.
I was not too confident but, after i had given up hope, i was offered a position. I fronted up to training, thinking i was maybe a bit late, to find myself beaten by only one guy. Training started late as they people turned out and worked out what we were doing there. Turns out that the premises was owned by the sandwich shop guys and they used to run a frozen yoghurt business as well. As the aging, Vietnamese couple were getting sick of this constant, incessant work, they asked the son of a friend if he would like to try his skills as an entrepreneur and open a French bakery. There seemed to be a blurred line, right from the word go, as to who exactly ran the show. At the training day, a young chef tried to show us the oven switch to turn on/off should we be asked. The small, aging, Vietnamese premises owner appeared from nowhere and scolded her saying we were not allowed back here, on, what looked like, our side of the building. No soup for you.
No one knew what to do. I felt like i was dealing with the Soup Nazi off Seinfeld and better just follow instruction... do we butter him up with fro-yo? Do we say "forget him!" and do our thing anyway?! Training was interesting. We did not do a lot but learned the ropes and were promised that we would get good guidance throughout the learning process. I believed this. The owner seemed genuine. Even though he was young, he knew his trade and surely would learn the business side of things. I stayed back to have some forms filled out due to my visa requirements and Soup Nazi was back talking about something, moving things around and, essentially, being the Little General. It was unnerving. Naturally, someone tried to cook something in the wrong area, the steam let off the fire alarm and the fire department came. i loved it. was this a Seinfeld episode?
My first shift lacked fireworks. And i like fireworks so that is a bit of a shame. It was a soft opening so we did not expect much business and, i suppose, anything was better than nothing. I continued to learn more things and tried hard. tried to give the impression that i was working hard. that was difficult! i was rostered on for a six hour day but was told to leave after three... i suppose, given that two other people were rostered on and only five people had been served, it made a lot of sense. We even had to turn customers away because we were not stocking the things that they requested that day. I went home feeling a bit unsatisfied but nonetheless happy to be employed. The next shift would pick up!
The following night, tonight, i was out having a quiet beer with Laura and her friends. i intrude, i know it, and she is sweet enough to put up with me. I have no real friends of my own. I call the people at the bank my friends. Laura's friends are welcoming, sweet, outgoing and so wonderful to me. But i still feel as though i am intruding sometimes. Her phone rings, a number we both know to be bakery job. I go to answer and then decide not to... 9:30 on a friday, no way! I get funny feelings and decide to call back.
Anytime someone says "i have some good news and some bad news" there is always a catch to the good news (usually where the bad news comes in) and, when you find out that the shop is changing location and will be in on a one month hiatus, when you are reeallllllly looking forward to that next pay check... yeah the bad news sort of overshadows the good news (then something about having the catch the light rail to the new location...). It was not really what i wanted to hear. Turns out that relations with the Soup Nazi little emperor hit boiling point and, essentially, we are not welcome there anymore. Employment in America, for what i have found, just refuses to be normal in any way, shape or form.
It's not what i wanted to hear but it is what it is. Tomorrow is more important than yesterday so it is now all about finding a better job to replace this one and finding that groove once again. With routine, my life will be back peaking. I will feel better and be happier. It is just up to me to be persistent. Until then, no soup for you. And maybe no beer and treats either.
Monday, 6 May 2013
One month of reflections
I am quickly approaching one month in the United States. This is my longest time away from home not including holidays and the longest time i have been out of work (not including holidays) since my Summer Hiatus of 2012... so in actual fact, the whole not working thing has not been anything toooo new.
I spend a lot of time watching baseball on tv. Trying to work out what is going on and why the players don't seem to try as hard as they could be. Coming from a cricket background, growing up being taught to always give my all and generally trying to put that to practice, I just do not understand some aspects of the game. For example, they wear gloves. A catch is not really a catch if you are wearing a glove. And, basically, if you get within coo-ee of a hit, you should catch it. It is not just a glove. It is a massive glove.
My days are also productive by thinking about things i would not otherwise think about. Things which i have more to do with as a result of myincarceration new life. For example, i feed Robin the cat every now and then (not an animal rights issue, i just mean when Lor does not) and notice that on the packet it states that it has a great taste and is for Adult cats aged 1-6 with an indoor lifestyle. They just all look like pellets to me. I do not envy the job of the person who tastes the pellets to ensure the taste is great (face it, in America if they do not do the research, someone will sue them) or understand the difference between diets for an indoor cat versus that of an outdoor cat. Given my somewhat sedentary lifestyle at the moment, I may consider a pellet diet, at least for a while.
The month has really flown by. It has been a blur of chilli cheese fries, jose cuervo margarita mix and homemade s'mores. That is a dangerous combination. IT is not flammable but may cause burning pockets, severe bloating and buyer's remorse. The margarita mix was a funny one. Turns out you don't need to add tequila to it as it is already included in the recipe! That explains why we got so trashed so quickly!
Searching for a job has become a bit laborious and I have almost accepted that every company that calls me for an interview is a door to door sales position. They try to dupe you in the ad by saying 'customer service' or 'marketing' and sometimes ever 'entry level HR' before coming clean that you will be walking to people's doors (people who own guns), knocking (remember the guns thing) and trying to sell them dodgy products (and they have guns). I received an email asking me to come in for an interview and i responded by asking if there was a sales component to the position. They never emailed back! I do have an interview tomorrow but accepted mainly for the outing. It looks like sales. I am not giving up though. I went to some interviews for a bakery, which was convenient and potentially fun. They never called back though so i have come to the conclusion i do not get hired. To be honest, their loss (as well as mine).
Something i am refusing to do (apart from a sales position) is lose hope or stop smiling. Am having a lot of fun with Laura and trying to repay her faith and love by cleaning the house, making her laugh and making really great mix CDs for her to listen to when she drives to work. Have begun a detox of sorts after a catalyst-ic night of mixed drinks, two burritos and a hazy memory. I like it here and know i will make things work. Perhaps I don't want to leave because it would mean I would have to support the Penrith Panthers again. The irresistible form of the SF Giants and SJ Sharks has a hold of me! I want to be in a winning location!
I spend a lot of time watching baseball on tv. Trying to work out what is going on and why the players don't seem to try as hard as they could be. Coming from a cricket background, growing up being taught to always give my all and generally trying to put that to practice, I just do not understand some aspects of the game. For example, they wear gloves. A catch is not really a catch if you are wearing a glove. And, basically, if you get within coo-ee of a hit, you should catch it. It is not just a glove. It is a massive glove.
My days are also productive by thinking about things i would not otherwise think about. Things which i have more to do with as a result of my
The month has really flown by. It has been a blur of chilli cheese fries, jose cuervo margarita mix and homemade s'mores. That is a dangerous combination. IT is not flammable but may cause burning pockets, severe bloating and buyer's remorse. The margarita mix was a funny one. Turns out you don't need to add tequila to it as it is already included in the recipe! That explains why we got so trashed so quickly!
Searching for a job has become a bit laborious and I have almost accepted that every company that calls me for an interview is a door to door sales position. They try to dupe you in the ad by saying 'customer service' or 'marketing' and sometimes ever 'entry level HR' before coming clean that you will be walking to people's doors (people who own guns), knocking (remember the guns thing) and trying to sell them dodgy products (and they have guns). I received an email asking me to come in for an interview and i responded by asking if there was a sales component to the position. They never emailed back! I do have an interview tomorrow but accepted mainly for the outing. It looks like sales. I am not giving up though. I went to some interviews for a bakery, which was convenient and potentially fun. They never called back though so i have come to the conclusion i do not get hired. To be honest, their loss (as well as mine).
Something i am refusing to do (apart from a sales position) is lose hope or stop smiling. Am having a lot of fun with Laura and trying to repay her faith and love by cleaning the house, making her laugh and making really great mix CDs for her to listen to when she drives to work. Have begun a detox of sorts after a catalyst-ic night of mixed drinks, two burritos and a hazy memory. I like it here and know i will make things work. Perhaps I don't want to leave because it would mean I would have to support the Penrith Panthers again. The irresistible form of the SF Giants and SJ Sharks has a hold of me! I want to be in a winning location!
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