'Why Aren't You a Copycat?'

The question in the title of this post? Oh, it's just what a relative recently told me. Apparently, the secret of a good life is to do what my neighbours do.

Yeah...

Right.

I could read this as a "we want you to be happy (or happier than you already are)", but in fact, it all boils down to success and money.

Yesterday, I was treated to a lecture that was meant to bully me into doing what "that wonderful neighbour's doing to improve its life" because I "clearly need more money".

I'm not equipped to understand that need for greed, and I'm not equipped to care about what people I barely know do with their lives. If they're happy, good for them, but I'm me, myself, and I, and I don't want to copy a stranger in the faint hope to please DNA-related sharks.

My mistakes are mine, and my triumphs are mine, too.

It's days like this I'd like to head back home to Mars. I'm sure Curiosity and the other rovers are cool company...

Teamwork?

Either I'm massively unlucky or I'm cursed.

As well, I'm sure that proper, nice, working teams do probably exist on this planet; it's just that I've never met one.

My very first encounter with "serious" teamwork was a few aeons ago when I was in primary school. Our teacher took the whole class to a castle where we were taught about elementary architecture. Then, we were randomly put together in teams of five, and we had to draw the plan of the house of our dreams.

The one thing I remember vividly is that, when I objected to having a garage and I said we should all ride bikes (yes, at 9, I was already quite conscious that cars weren't that good for the planet), the bully in my group declared that I was an idiot, and I was properly and thoroughly ignored after that. I wanted to refuse to add my name to "our" project, but the teacher didn't listen to me because I "needed" the grade.

Let's fast forward to work as an adult.

I've been to countless meetings where the team boss listened to his voice as he read a leaflet that I could have read in five minutes.

I've had colleagues ignore me because they thought they were better than I. It wasn't a question of rank or brain... No, they were convinced that they knew, they were right, and I was the village idiot.

In big companies, I've seen Office 15 ignore Office 78 because there's a merry war going on between them. Too bad that the rest of us were caught in the crossfire, eh? 

So much for teamwork.

Oh, and there's the plonkers who control everything and makes everybody's lives miserable because they're incompetent and/or petty.

There may be no "I" in team, but if you're going to ignore me anyway, why should I use my lovely brain to help you since you're going to screw things up anyway?

I'm not going to give up though. It's got to be nice to work with people who value your knowledge, listen to you, and work together to be efficient and quick.

Victorian Era - The Reboot

I'm currently doing some research for something I want to write and that's going to be set in the late Victorian Era... and I realized that, even though our calendars say 2015, there are things that have almost gone back to how bad it was back in the 19th century.

We have food scandals (no more lead and chalk, but GMOs and horse meat in your lasagna anyone?).

The protection of the unions is getting weaker.

More and more people simply can't afford to heat their flats or houses (I think I remember reading about old people who died in unheated places because they couldn't afford to pay for that). If I merely have a look at the amount of money I've got to give to the Gas Company, that's theft (they use a higher rate in the heart of winter - for one week mid-December, I gave them as much money as I paid for a whole month in early spring). Perhaps there are too many bipeds on earth, but in the 21st century, no one should die because of the cold in a civilized country.

And then... the nastiest scam orchestrated by our politicos: retirement.

One of my cousins just got a file in the post about retirement rights, and everything about 'How long will you have to work?', which prompted my mother to ask me what my situation, retirement-wise, is. 

Charming.

I thought, 'I've got time!', but curiosity launched my inner cat on the Internet, and then... I realized the extent of the catastrophe.

I'll have to work (at least - if the politicos don't change the retirement laws again!) for 47 years, and I thought, 'Okay, I'm going to die before I can retire.'

You see, I didn't start working at 15.

I started working when I finally managed to find a job, and that was only after I got my M.St. (my M.A. wasn't even enough for me to find something! - Anything).

The year I sat for my PhD, I had three jobs (so I don't mind working hard and long hours), but... I didn't make enough money for that year to be counted (that's why I love so much the character of Martin Crieff in Cabin Pressure: I can relate).

After my PhD? Oh, that's soooo pretty on the curriculum! But I have to fend alone, and finding regular jobs is a task from hell (add to the mix the occasional boss who gives a job to a bloke coz he thought I was married and working just for fun, whilst the hired bloke is the breadwinner - I usually joke that I'm Christmas pudding, and dessert comes after bread).

You know, I think I wouldn't be so angry if I could expect more than two months of retirement before I kick the bucket (provided that I find a position where they won't renew my contract once I reach a certain age), and if the politicos who voted the laws weren't such hypocrites (some of them earn in a month what I earn in a year! And they can retire after five years! FIVE years!!!!!).

I'm also a bit angry because I've been advised to either become a politician (that'd be tough, as I'm honest, and I find all political parties to be the same brand of liars and I couldn't join any) or to find myself a wealthy husband. First, I'll have to remind my relatives that a wife could do as well... However, I'm not going to sell myself for financial security.

I'd rather swallow hot coal. Mind you, that might be a way to avoid freezing to death when I'm old and grey, when no one wants to employ me because I look like a mummified raisin, and when I can't afford to turn the heater on.

Dear Fairy in the Sky that doesn't exist, may I be a politico or a footballer in my next incarnation (the one that's never going to happen)? 

Modern Life 2.3

Yes, my sweets, we're getting daily updates now... because the situation is quite ridiculous.

MIA, the e-mail I should have received last night to confirm that I'm keeping my current Internet connection.

And then... Magic! The parcel that I was told had been delivered to a store where I could retrieve it Apparated to my post office, whose employees gave it to my building's caretaker (I'm parked in a council estate, and the lovely bloke told me that they dumped about forty parcels at his offices without warning).

So, first, the travelling parcel will go back to its "mummy", and... *drumroll* the council will change the optic fibre connection boxes in all buildings and replace them with one linked to a net provider that's not mine because they've made a deal with that other company. So I just cannot have an optic fibre netbox with my current company.

 

I love my plonkers disorganized, but I find the lack of communication in most places today quite frustrating.

Icing on the cake for today? I tried to phone my provider's hotline, but we were too many, and it disconnected me each time... until they closed the shop for the day - at 10pm instead of midnight as advertised on their website (they change the theme of their site every other month, but they don't bother updating the pages - or they're in India, and I'm entering a bad remake of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel).

You know what?

I go OCD each time I deal with this, and that's too much of a waste of time for a Whisky Tango Foxtrot snafu.

A lovely gal promised me that my wish was duly noted. I'll believe in her professionalism in all this.

If not...

The Law is on my side and Mrs Hyde wants to have some fun.

Publishing News (Looking for...)

Soooooooo, my sweet (mostly silent) readers... I need your help.

I'm one of the three heads in an adventure that's going to become a publishing company.

We've got authors, we've got great ideas to create unique books, the website's taking shape (my cousin and I are working on it, and it looks grrrreat), but... [of course there's a "but"...] but we need to find a bank we can trust.

Don't die with laughter just yet, please!

What we need is to find a bank willing to work with us after signing an NDA (a "non-disclosure agreement"). We're not even asking for any money!

Since we're not even on the market yet, the usual answer is "A standard contract is good enough for you. What are you afraid of?".

A- I don't trust you, Cupcake

B- No one died and made you king

C- If you blab about our secrets, we can close the shop

If some of you are bankers (one never knows) or if you know one, it'd be nice to break that damn silence and help us.

Until we're sure that we won't get stabbed in the back, we can't start our business. Heeelp!

^_~

=>

Modern Life 2.2

Aaaand here's an update.

So soon?

Well, if I'm not being tricked, yes...

Things at work are still messy, but I can mutate and adapt. ô.O

The Internet thingy?

Well, I called my provider's hotline thrice.

#1: waited 20 minutes only to have the line be cut off "because of a technical problem" (I'm still the Empress of Mars apparently).

#2: waited 25 minutes after being told that "your call will be answered in less than a minute" (okay, I'm the one who decided to hang up this time).

#3: after 10 minutes, I got a human being to answer me.

I was so happy to get through that I could have kissed her!

I told her that their parcel was marked as "delivered" by Chronopost, but there was nothing in my box (not even a note to tell me the whereabouts of the ellusive parcel) - I was then informed that it had been delivered to a shop where I could retrieve it (very efficient, Chronopost! You can't even be bothered to check if I'm home or not. How [un]professional!).

I exclaimed that I didn't want to know where it was, as I'd asked for nothing, had learnt that the box has a noisy fan, and I like being able to sleep in my own flat, thank you very much.

She tried to convince me to have a technician come and install the box, but I refused.

Then.......... she said she was registering my wish on my file with them and I'd get a confirmation e-mail tonight.

I want to believe that this lovely lady didn't lie to me!

I want to believe that what could have been a nightmare is now behind me for good.

The optic fibre line would fully belong to my provider, whilst the ADSL line's still controlled by France Télécom (Orange, today). 

I don't care about the war between France Télécom and Free. My connection works, and I don't need a new one (with a fan from hell and disappointed reviews about the connection!).

If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Sheesh! Bloody sheeple.

Modern Life 2.1

Long time no post...

The thing is, work in real life has been properly barmy, and I didn't have time to hop here (as well, most things weren't too bad - so nothing weird to post about, and nothing good and fluffy enough to share either; the average "blah").

Weirdness and a healthy dose of plonkers are threatening my health again (so this is more a testimony "in case I collapse" than an actual growl).

I'm currently dealing with someone who's not doing his job, which prevents me from doing mine properly (I'm resorting to MacGyverish tricks to... well, do my best in such circumstances). I sent an SOS (I didn't even bark at the plonker!), and what did I get? That thing barked at me, pretending that he was doing his best.

Oh.

Really?

Can I get his wages if I manage to do the job - on time?

More and more, I'm dealing with bipeds not doing their jobs and hissing if you say anything.

These days, there are works wherever I go. Just yesterday, I saw one bloke working on something in a street on my way to work. There were five other blokes around him - just watching him; the whole scene looked weird and wrong.

Cherry on my real life cake? My Internet provider wants me to use their optic fibre box.

That looks good on paper, but:

- I never said I was okay with that.

- I'm not even sure the fibre connection in my flat works.

- if there's any issue, they won't help much.

- I've read accounts on the net saying that fibre isn't that stable with the netbox they want me to use

- the box has a noisy fan (some people had to change providers because of it!).

About that last point, my next words may sound a lil' bit extreme, but... I don't want to die. Since the downstairs A/C debacle, I can no longer stand fan noise - and I'd collapse, for good, with a noisy fan 24/7 in my flat.

Sweet Merlin! I hope I can stop the fibre fiasco - and manage to get what I need to work properly at Job #1...

ô.O

Back to St John's wort (and I really didn't need that!).

Another Interesting Music Video

They were featuring in my last post, and they're back with yet another creative video. The singer's giving us something quite interesting, and I'm jealous of the pianist (to say the least!).
I give you SEKAI NO OWARI with 「SOS」: