Lunches and lie-ins

Afternoon folks,

I really must stop starting each blog with an apology for not muttering at you about what has been going on over here. I also must stop surfing on crappy internet sites at lunch too. I keep finding myself on the Daily Mail website for goodness sake, and I hate the paper – go figure.

It is a hot week over here, ranging from 29-37 degrees, I am safely tucked up at my desk in the air conditioning, hoping the cloudy, muggy day will have cooled down a bit before I head off to the gym after work. It was like walking out into an oven this morning as I walked to the tram, and sitting on the tram was like being in a portable green house, but still better than walking down the hill after getting the train in. We are all worn out with the heat at work too, Kylie woke up at 2.30 and took ages to get back off, Jen is house and puppy sitting, they woke her up at 5.30 and I woke up screaming (sorry DG) with cramp at 4am. It took ages to clear, with ministry of silly walks around the bedroom and Dan muttering reassuring noises while attempting to get back off to sleep. It still ached this morning, so I hope I will be OK at the gym tonight. Should be. When I was swimming I used to get it a lot in the muscle under the arch of my foot, that was a bitch to get rid off, many a minute was spent leaning up against a wall trying to stretch it out.

Work is disintegrating around our ears, I had a bad belly this week, so spent most of Tuesday talking to God, so I missed the Support Staff advisor meeting where we all got a bollicking for tardiness. They actually used the word, and if you are 1 minute late, you have to report to the two cronies who run the place. 1 minute? What if you get stuck in traffic, train breaks down etc? You also have to take your lunch at exactly o’clock, they don’t like you finishing what you are doing, coming to a natural pause even at 12:02, as it means you will be back late. FFS. I can’t remember ever working for such a company before. They are also introducing a dress code, as some of the girls here are taking the pee. Instead of pulling them to one side and saying ‘That isn’t an appropriate outfit, can you please smarten up a bit’ we are going to have a list of things that are unacceptable. Like sandals, in Australia in Summer. I wear court shoes (hate that description, but can’t think of another one) so it doesn’t bother me, but one girl here stubbed her toe on Friday last week, wearing sandals. An advisor came out his office as we were trying to get her to stop hopping about and put some ice on it, his contribution: ‘I thought those shoes were banned’. Banning shoes? I am working for a police state, very appropriately I am reading 1984 at the moment. It also rankles across the board, that Alpha Female and her cronie can wear and do whatever the f*** they like, including cronie wearing a jumper dress that just about covers her bum today, and strappy sandals. Guess what advisor cronie is PA to? Yes the one who is all for banning foot wear.

We were asked for our opinions on dress, now I know I can be casual at work, but I am quite happy to wear a suit every day. I said that Business Dress was used to describe outfits in the UK, some didn’t know what it meant. When Em was asking for any more suggestions for the dress code I said: White knee high socks, black Mary Janes, bottle green skirt on the knee, crisp white shirt and a green and white striped tie, with pig-tails optional.

I know I am not alone when I say this, if they were consistent about complaining about behaviour we wouldn’t feel so pi$$ed off. But they don’t, AF and cronie can do and wear whatever they like, they can sing songs and shout across the office when clients are in, they can go off for a walk when they want a break, they can have a lunch break, but also spend a good portion of the opposite lunch break sitting in the conference room talking. But the other 6 of us can’t, we’d get shot at dawn. Very infuriating. My review is coming up, which should be interesting to say the least.

We have a long weekend over here, as it is Australia day on Monday which is a public holiday. Dan and I are off for a picnic at Hanging Rock, and are going to work out more wedding stuff. An email will then follow to the guests updating them a bit more on what is going on. We are also going to start a newsletter to update everyone. I will go shopping for invitation paper and so on this weekend too. Dan again is supposed to be cricketing on Saturday, Sunday we are pottering round the flat, I’m off to be relidged at the Quakers, and going to the gym, Monday we are on a mini road trip. But all of them will mean no alarms at 6am – hurrah.

We are still making and taking our packed lunches daily, we haven’t missed a day since we started back at the beginning of January. We had stroganoff today, Jamie Oliver’s recipe, it was bluddy good too. Dan cooked it last night while I was out with Joan from work. She took me along to a Mannatech product launch. Pyramid selling scheme style, the doctor who was launching it walked on to much palaver from some ladies. There was almost fainting behind me and gasps of overexcitment.

It was interesting enough, but it is a lot of money to buy the products. Even with the supposed miracle results from Osolean – what a bizarre name for a product. It is a whey protein based product that metabolises the fat stores in your body, so you lose inches, not necessarily weight. He kept on reminding us that muscle weighs more than fat, so throw away the scales and use your tape measures! He had a big booming voice, dyed his hair BLACK, wore black clothes and reminded me of a fire and brimstone preacher from the South. I kept expecting raised hands to be waggled in the air with ‘Amens!’ and ‘Praise the Lords!’ being yelled out.

I didn’t get the giggles, said please and thank you and took notes every so often. It was a bit brainwash/cultish at times, so very much doubt I will do anything other than read the bumf and recycle it. I am happy with the gym thank you.

I’m off, I need to call DG to thank him for his cooking last night and wash my pot up, he nags me if I don’t.

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