Unemployed bum-to-be

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So, the other day I gave four weeks’ notice from my job. I was reasonably well-adjusted when getting ready for work, but by the time I got there I couldn’t face another day without resourcing, stability, certainty, sanity and some damn strategy. Now I am having a major panic attack that with my courage comes too large an accompanying dose of stupidity.

The stand-in boss asked what would convince me to stay and I said I didn’t know. I’ve made my concerns and proposed solutions clear for months and my employer has continually ignored me and supported what I think is an unreasonable way of operating. (I guess he wanted me to say something really easy that would make it all better …) If I can glean anything amusing from this, if the counter-offer is a piece of crap I’ll be gone a few days before the real boss returns from an illness — the real boss hasn’t called yet which means the stand-in boss is hiding it from him. I can’t wait to see what happens there.

I am pretty good at managing people, projects and making things happen. I am good at recruiting, office management and admin stuff and can do pretty and clever things with Microsoft products. I have a driver’s licence, ABN and high security clearance. If anyone knows of something coming up full time or contract in Melbourne city or southern suburbs, use your six degrees of separation and call me now (I’m also good at sounding like those Nutrimetics ads).

I’m running a little competition for what I might do next, so please let me know your ideas. I have already been suggested prostitute (I’m too old), real estate agent (I’m too honest and can’t be arsed working six days a week), funeral planner (morbid but not a bad idea with an ageing society), renovator and operator of local pub (I don’t have the money) and event planner (could be a goer and I could call it Pissed on the Peninsula).

Crank-o-meter: really, really confused

21 September 2009

Smitten with knittin’

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I have lots to say but continuing the pattern of scattered brain function to form sentences and arguments, so here, have some distracting pictures.

I had some balls of variegated wool that looked beautiful in the ball, but downright tacky when knitted up, so I made some socks for my mum. I’m calling them the ‘Peacock Vomit’ Socks. She seems to love them in an almost unhealthy way.

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I took the day off to go to the mechanic’s today and have the car’s starter motor replaced (this is a new and unexpected problem). And, oh yeah, the windscreen wipers also stopped working last week, so I had to plan trips with additional time to get the bitch on wheels started and check the Bureau of Meteorology radar for signs of rain before I left home. Did you know this is Melbourne’s first month of average rainfall for so many years it’s not funny? I know, because my lack of windscreen wipers made it all happen — thank me for your bountiful deciduous tree blossoms.

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It was pleasant outdoors today thankfully and I found an old school chair in the laneway and cranked out some more knitting. I got quite a few rows done and no one looked at me strangely as this is the only mechanic’s workshop around where there’s no room inside for cars and everything happens outdoors. The lunch table is a windscreen resting over the bonnet of a car that’s been there for more than five years and the neighbouring wood machinist seems to do nothing but show up late, hurl sarcastic remarks and shave wood into bags of sawdust. The engine dyno tuner on the corner has a black labrador who likes to meet and greet customers intrepid enough to go looking for the toilet that’s packed full of old boxes, car parts soaking in the sink and bags of sawdust. I enjoy hanging out there.

Crank-o-meter: on the road!

7 September 2009