I've cheated on my job...again

This is it. I am a serial cheater. Job cheater, at least. I had sent my CV to a chain of wine shops a week ago. And was invited for an interview (Seems my CV looks pretty decent). I pulled a "sickie" to attend it, and also to do a sparkling wine tasting. Once again, I thought the interview was rubbish (and I thought I was rubbish at the tasting as well), and once again, I was wrong. They called me up for a trial day, which fortunately was on a Saturday, so I wouldn't have to pull another sickie.

Meanwhile, I got paid. My first paycheck. I was quite happy about it, and started to think (on the way to work):"Mmmmm, maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I am being too picky, too critical. I don't work that many hours a week, the money is good, the job is easy". So I went to work with one thing on my mind, I was going to evaluate how bearable my job was. Right.

I left work thinking "I am so tired, I got up so early, this "effing" train journey is so bloody long, that Lucy girl is a total bitch, I didn't even get a lunch break today, I really dislike my boss, and work itself is just ridiculous". How is that for an assessment?

So I went to the trial day at the wine shop. I really like wine shops, someday I hope to have my own, or have a wine bar. The manager looked a bit creepy, but he loved me. He immediately asked me to pick up any bottle in the shop and sell it to him, and so I did. He then said "Congratulations, you've got the job". That was the shortest "trial" ever.

Then he put me under a blind tasting, which I got at least country and grape varietal right. And for the rest of the time, we drank. Even champagne.

It seems they drink something every day, using customer tasting as an excuse. Or an excuse of "we have to drink to get to know the wines". I was fine with it.
On the way back, in the train, I saw my boss - the one I said I really dislike, remember? - and really felt like a cheater getting caught. Gladly, I looked slightly drunk on a Saturday  afternoon so he would never guess I was at a job interview, or trial.

The job is for junior manager, by the way. I thought it was interesting as I have never managed a wine shop before and would like to know how it really works. The progression to Branch Manager is supposed to be fairly straightforward and quick.

Thing is...it is more hours and less money. As I am dying to leave my mother-in-law's house, that should be taken into account, no? Should  I just do what I think would make me happier? And will more money make me happier? After all 400 pounds less a month is a lot. With 400 pounds I can have a great holiday (here in Europe, obviously), buy lots of clothes or my new wishlist item: The Phillips Lumea (my dream is to live a hairless, happy life).
If anyone has a word of wisdom anyone out there, it would be much appreciated. I tried asking my husband with the most depressing and disappoint results.

Paris

We are having marvelous days of sunshine in England lately. This weekend, I went to Hyde Park, I wore shorts and sunglasses, I swapped the coffee for a Starbucks' strawberries & cream milkshake. I can't emphasize enough how rare this is in the UK. As I sat outside a very French deli in Richmond (south London), I started remembering my last summer in Paris.

I lived in Paris for three months. I had always wanted to do that, it seemed like such a romantic idea. I was learning French in London's Alliance Francaise, I was working with wines - which basically forces you to speak some French, and I was deeply fascinated by the country, the history, the wines. I had been to France before. For someone who's afraid of airplanes, eurostar is a true blessing. I had also been to Champagne, 100 kms from Paris, which turned out to be one of the best trips of my life. And the Loire Valley. Gorgeous.

I would learn the language and study gastronomy, very Sabrina style (I don't know how many times I've seen this). I was hoping to come back as elegant, eloquent and sophisticated as Audrey did in the film.

I was really fearful that the French would be terribly mean to me, that they would be unfriendly and arrogant, as some people had warned me. Au contraire, they were lovely. They would talk to me on the street. Well, the men would. But it was never disrespectful, it was always like "Bonjour, mademoiselle!" with a smile. And I would smile back. My husband, Martin, then my boyfriend, would always visit me (he didn't like how men would talk to me even when he was around, though). He was living in Scotland, then in London, and we were used to a long distance relationship. It was heaven when he was there. We'd wake up to get our fresh baguette with brie, visit the Tourists sites, go to those famous Parisian cafes and Patisseries. 

Cooking classes were fun, too. And everyone seemed to want to help me out with everything. I was having the time of my life.

Until one day I was walking to the Metro in the beginning of the afternoon and two guys approached me. For no reason at all (aside from probably that they were on drugs) they started punching and kicking me even after I fell on the grass, and took my bag. My life was in that bag. Passport, driving license, health insurance, keys, credit cards, photos, mobile, e-ve-ry-thing. After I realized what just had happened to me, I started screaming. I was helped by strangers. They called the police and an ambulance came for me.

My Paris dream was over.

I had the worst treatment at the hospital. I was waiting and waiting for hours to be seen by a doctor whilst laying in bed agonizing. I had no ID and I didn't remember by head any phone numbers. I couldn't go home - no money, no keys. To make things worse, I was in shock and just couldn't speak French. Not a word.

After I finally managed to get in touch with someone, the news traveled fast. Suddenly my sister was calling Martin sobbing on the phone, desperate (bless her) and within hours he was there with me. He drove all the way from London, and pretended I was beautiful even when my face was destroyed.

The police did nothing and the robbers were never caught. Everything just went from bad to worse after that day, and Parisians started confessing that violence was a massive problem there, but not really advertised - as they live of Tourism.

From that day, I hated when anyone looked at me or talked to me, I was so scared (I was a woman living by myself, after all), I was paranoid someone would attack me again.

I was relieved to come back.

Now, a year later, I start looking at things with nostalgia- maybe it's the way everything goes- and I can recall the good things, the beautiful views, the gorgeous weather and the smiling faces.

My sister introduced me to a band called Beirut many months ago, and I love it. I love the lead singer's voice, the instruments played and the video. The fact that they made it on the exact street I lived in Paris, Rue Oberkampf. It was a loud, young, bohemian neighborhood, and it always makes me think "Nah, it wasn't so bad".

If it makes you happy...

I was going to write an extremely depressive post as this was the mood I was in. I am unhappy about my job and unhappy about the place I live in (what's left?) but instead of rambling again about my discontentment, I decided to write what would take to kick me off of that mood pronto. Wine. There.

Not only wine, alcohol. I'm by no means an alcoholic, but I am a wine specialist and a true wine lover. I think europeans have a better relationship with wine as not only a food enhancer, but a life enhancer.

I fell in love with wine earlier than I should admit, I was a teenager. I never got drunk, but I got numb.How wonderful that feeling...when your problems appear diminished and your anxieties become blurred.

 How fantastic is to giggle with your friends all afternoon over a bottle of champagne; how delicious is a cold beer in a very hot weather, or happy-hour cocktails after a hard day of work, how gorgeous is a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon over dinner with your steak.

Now people like to point out to me that alcohol is poison. And quoting Frank Sinatra, they say alcohol is men's enemy but the bible told us to love our enemies. Joking aside, I kind of feel sorry for people who feel sick or depressed with alcohol. That never has been the case for me. It makes me happy (not to mention funnier, more sincere, braver and a better lover)

I do believe in drinking with moderation, and I never craved cigarette or drugs, but I hold an altar to Bacchus. And the more I know about it, the more I appreciate it and the more it fascinates me. Maybe it will slightly shorten my life, but when I look back and remember the champagne euphoria, I know it will be all worth it.

By the way, I am completely sober whilst writing this.

why you shouldn't live with your mother-in-law

Since my new job so far has been a nightmare, I look forward to go home. The place I can have some peace, the place I can do whatever I want, and the place I can find some love. Home is sort of a compensation from work. When my husband isn't home - he isn't very often - I get love from Figgy the cat. He waits for me on my bed, meows when he seems me, asking for a stroke. He will also turn his little belly up so I can massage him. He lets me do that. I call him perfection or gorgeousness, and he lets me give him kisses. He also lets me feed him (my husband calls me "Figgy's bitch" but I think he's just slightly jealous). So I fed him yesterday.

I woke up today at 6 am, part of my new routine. Right, I went down to the kitchen already pissed off that I was awake at 6 am and had to go to that bloody job, and I found a to whom it may concern post-it: "Figgy is not a LION CUB FYI. He doesn't need that many biscuits! Stop overfeeding him! Thank you!" It was from my mother-in-law. Now I don't like sarcasm with my coffee and I didn't appreciate that. I went back upstairs and told my husband "We have to move out! You said it was temporary til I had a job. I have a job now!", to which he responded "Why should we waste our money on rent when we are saving to buy our own house?" (who's saving? maybe he is, I'm too self indulgent to save). So apparently I'm stuck to a list of house rules for a while longer. She actually gave me a written list the day after I moved in, when my husband was at work.

I'm not allowed to close the curtains during daytime, or close my door entirely except when changing. I also can't leave my wardrobe open, or eat in bed, or let Figgy in bed without many protective layers (Figgy is always in bed, layers or not). And those are just the bedroom rules! There are bathroom, kitchen and living room rules. I used to adore my mother in law but living with her cured that in no time!

Truth is no one should live with their mother past age of 18. Your mother or someone else's. But if it is someone else's mother is even worse, you cannot talk back! No, no, it's wrong: If you are married, three is a crowd, except for pets, pets are wonderful.

So now I'm eating risotto with a glass of white wine. In bed. Just to piss her off.

Jealousy

I am a jealous woman. Everyone knows. And boy, does my husband know! I have always been this way, and you could explain it with the fact my mother's two failed marriages were tainted by many infidelities. However, my sister , who grew up with me, isn't jealous at all. She is this understanding, kind human being who thinks everyone is entitled to fail to be monogamous some time, as its human, it's how life goes. Aren't we different.

It seems that most people think of being a jealous person as one the worst trait someone can possess. A sin for some. Such a low, ridiculous feeling for others. More than a few would roll their eyes and feel sorry for me. My friends would always say throughout my life that jealousy is useless and you cannot control what your partner does. That you are just hurting yourself and your partner. I heard it all and I am still jealous. Firstly because it is something I cannot control and secondly...I disagree with them.

Recently a friend started using Internet dating sites. Yesterday she was telling me about this guy who apparently has a great profile and asked for her phone number whilst flirting online. "The problem is - she tells me - is that he only calls from unknown numbers, and has never given me his telephone. When I asked for it, he just said he would call again later and was very sweet. Then he wanted to meet me at 2 pm but I couldn't make it, and now I want to reschedule but I don't know how to get hold of him, he's so nice and has a gorgeous photo!" "And he's married"- I told her. "What?" "Come on, he calls from a private number, doesn't give his mobile number to you, and wants to schedule a date at lunch time? On his work break?" She paused and said "Wow, I never thought of that".

I did, immediately. A friend of my mother was married for many years and suddenly found out her husband had been having an affair with their secretary (they were also business partners) for 2 and a half years. She would never have guessed. She had never been jealous, she never looked for clues, she never questioned him. Needless to say, her world was thrown upside down by this revelation, and now she had to think about their small children and their business, along with the fact that all of their nights she slept so sure that her husband was working overtime - he was with her. And now he was going to marry the other woman, much younger, of course.

And we read the papers and magazines and we know that happened to Sandra Bullock, Tiger's wife, Cheryl Cole, Shania Twain. And I cannot help but wonder: How didn't they know! They probably weren't jealous, they weren't suspicious. We all saw Sandra's Oscar acceptance speech and her love, trust and admiration for her husband.

My husband could never pull serial or continuous cheating. Not on me. I will discretely check the facts. I won't start a scene and I won't throw accusations without any proof. But for instance, when he works overtime and I cannot get hold of him on his mobile, I will call his workplace, and ask to speak to him. I make up an excuse or just say I miss him madly, he likes that.

I will also occasionally do the subtle checking the phone whilst he is in the shower.

Am I unhappy for that? Does it drive me crazy? Au contraire, I am not always checking, but it does give me peace of mind when I do, and if I find something I do not like, I will speak to him. We will talk about it.

My husband is never jealous, but I wish he was. I think up to some point it keeps the passion alive and prevents us from taking each other for granted. I think not only jealousy is healthy, It is necessary.

Are you happy at work? You are? I hate you.

The first day of work is like your first day of school...at a new school. You are hoping you are going to like the classes, the teachers and your classmates. But in the back of your mind you know damn well that you are just going to have to study a lot of things you don't want to, that all the time that school consumes could be spent doing something so much funner (like sleeping!) and that you are probably going to dislike a lot of people there.

Same for work, just substitute classmates for colleagues, teaches for bosses, studying for actually working.

Yes, today was my first day. I woke up at 6 a.m. 6 am! It should be illegal. Against human rights or something. And it is so cold in the morning I could see my own breath (come on, it's spring!), then the train, changing the train, catching the bus. And I managed to arrive there late.

Right. I spent all day long in front of the computer, with my boss by my side, guiding me through the painful process of getting to know their computer softwares. I was looking forward to every little break I could get. Drinking water, coffee, a blessed soul even brought donuts for everyone today. And lunch time.

It was so much to take in, and the more I did my tasks the more I got confused. So.many.little.details. My under eye circles got deeper and darker each hour that went by. I finally finished my first daily dose of torture. I caught the bus home, then the train. I slept in the train. I never sleep in trains, buses or airplanes. But I did today, I was exhausted, I even set my alarm so I wouldn't miss my stop.

I came home at 6:30 pm. More than 12 hours of my day. Wasted.

Yes, wasted, because why the hell would my life be improved or become any more significant if I learn how to use a company's computer software? Am I really helping people the way I intended (once upon a time) by processing wine orders and organizing deliveries?

I think some people are not meant to have a boss and a routine and I am one of those. Some will say I am lazy or spoiled, or both. However I truly think that we limit our life so much having a stated time to even have lunch. We think of it as normal but is it?

When I met those actors at the wine tasting I saw people brave enough to just do what they wanted. I envy them. I am a coward. I fear failure.

And if you tell me you love your job and you are extremely happy with it...Well, good for you. I hate you.
(Note: This was written out of tiredness and utter frustration. I do apologize.)

winetastingspeedating

I had an offer to do a Wine Tasting- Speed Dating thing a little while ago. I had mixed emotions about this: I wanted to do wine tastings but wasn't sure about the speed dating part. Somehow it cheapened it. It made the tasting seem like just an excuse for the dating. A topic of conversation, perhaps. Or just a way to get drunk faster and avoid the sheer embarrassment of talking about yourself to so many different strangers .

But I said alright, I will do it. It might be fun. It might give me confidence. I might do some networking.

Then the organizer, Anna, asked me to go on Friday (the 30th) and meet James, who would give her feedback about me, and Tom - who was also going for a trial.

I found out Tom and James were actors. And almost didn't go because of that. Why? Because I've never been much of an extrovert. I'm highly critical and I always feel silly trying to be funny and entertaining to a crowd of strangers. I'm funny and entertaining with my good friends only. And actors are...well, how can I explain?

 They are very vocal, they can pull every expression and impression needed, even if they are not confident they will ooze confidence...because they are actors. Therefore I was insecure, I didn't want to be evaluated or compared to an actor. I called my friend and she told me that there wasn't a moment in my life that I didn't look secure, that I always look like I am in control. And many people have told me that (Sometimes mentioning intimidating and arrogant as well.  Haha).

Right, I went there, met James, who was a very lovely Scottish guy (of course they would listen to him! Scottish accent is just adorable) and Tom, who is English and a truly nice guy as well.

I had the best time I have ever had whilst working. Seriously, get paid for that? To talk to people, to taste wines, to be around funny interesting colleagues? Beats waking up early to sit in front of a computer all day, don't you think?

So I took two lessons from Friday: One is that as soon as I can I will be my own boss, because teaching wines and interacting with people is what I love. And second is that I will never ever let an opportunity pass because of fear or insecurity.