I Am A Slacker. Also, Offices Are Awkward.

I have not updated for ages. What a slacker.

I want to talk about my job. My job is fairly boring when I think about it. I work in a medium-sized department store where I help serve customers and do random office things, like staple paper and write on paper and fax paper and look at paper then give the paper to other people. The paper cuts are vicious and the staples are sharp, it is a dangerous occupation for sure.

Anyway, there was a reasonably awkward moment at work the other day. I work reception for the accounts office in the store, and when a customer comes up to the counter I go up and help them. The store was super quiet and I could see one old lady wandering around the displays near our counter, so I kept doing whatever important work I was doing (stuffing envelopes, oh the joy) and kept an eye on her. I noticed that she had walked up to the counter and was standing there, so I stood up and went over. However as soon as I reached it, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open like a fool, about to launch into my “Hi-there-how-can-I-help-you-today” speech. So I sat down behind my desk again and began mindlessly stuffing envelopes again.

The awkwardness did not end there. Not once, not twice, but FOUR more times, the old lady would approach the counter and stand there until I started walking towards her, then abruptly turn and hurry in the opposite direction. I briefly considered chasing her down but this would mean leaving the phone unattended, an offense punishable by death in my office. As she returned yet again, staring me right in the eye, I wearily stood and went over to her. To my surprise she didn’t attempt another runner, but just looked at me. We stared each other down until she broke the super awkward silence by saying “Excuse me, is this the [name of local bakery]?”. I had to resist the temptation to slam my head down on the desk, and instead politely informed her that this was a clothing department store and no, we do not sell delicious baked bread-y things.

I will update again in a few days. Until then, I will stuff envelopes until my brain explodes from built-up boredom, or I am injured in a freak office staple-photocopier-phone accident.

Offending People and Being Old Before Your Time

Sometimes when I’m talking to people I say things without really thinking about them first. The result is usually hilarious and often offensive. For example, yesterday I was with some friends when my friend Hannah said “do you guys know what song Rihanna should sing?”, to which I replied “Hit Me Baby One More Time?”. Needless to say, Hannah was furious (she is a huge fan of Rihanna apparently, which makes me reconsider being friends with her), but I stand by my suggestion.

Also I swear that I am going deaf and getting senile at the ripe of 20. Occasionally when having a conversation with someone, I simply cannot make out what they are saying and end up nodding enthusiastically, hoping that I haven’t just agreed to something insane/illegal/boring. I drink so much tea and coffee that I could out-drink a 90-year old grandmother in a tea-off, and still have room for a biscuit. Sometimes I go to bed at 9pm just because I can. The other day I realised, to my horror, that I had used the words “gosh”, “lovely” and “splendid” within the course of a five minute conversation. It was simply unacceptable. On the bright side, old people can get away with being offensive and downright rude 'because they're old'.

While my decline into the elderly life is going to be swift and inevitable, I am going to try my best to fight it off. I have the maturity level of a toddler, which helps, but this could also be mistaken for dementia. I look youthful enough and can still occasionally get away with purchasing a child’s ticket at the movies. So I’ll hold onto these last remnants of my adolescence for as long as possible, or at least until I go to bed at 9pm after my cup of tea and a biscuit.

This picture: Me and some friends, in about two years.

Super Hyper Times

Some days I get super hyper. My friends have come to recognise the slightly insane glint in my eye after I have consumed too much sugar (or sometimes from too little sugar…) and either make themselves scarce to avoid the madness, or take a seat and observe with interest as I literally bounce off the walls. The last time it happened I had so much energy that I ran around in circles for a good hour wildly windmilling my arms, just because I could. My friend (not the skin-you-and-turn-you-into-a-blanket friend, I’m staying away from her) said that just watching me was exhausting, and that I resembled a drunk toddler with anger problems and an insatiable crack addiction. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t flattered.

Sometimes this hyperness is a problem though, like in the middle of a two-hour class  or on a bus, where I cannot easily get into a large outdoor space to flail around for a while. Also one day my friend Sam and I foolishly drank one of those giant energy drinks each, which resulted in what I like to refer to as ‘super extreme hyper overdose frenzy’. It felt like what I imagine being on acid would feel like and I’m pretty sure Sam turned into a talking dolphin at one point.

What did I learn from this experience? One, that despite being 20 years of age, eating too much sugar turns me into a deranged preschooler, and two, Sam and I should never ever drink Red Bull ever again. It does not give you wings, just so much energy that you will not sleep for days and probably have withdrawal symptoms. However it is extremely likely that curiosity (and general stupidity) will get the better of us once again and we will have a Red Bull drink-off, hopefully in close proximity to a large outdoor space. See you in energy drink rehab.

Flailing Awkwardly

I had a super awkward moment today.

Almost as awkward as that time I thought it would be fun to spin around as fast as I could in our backyard, then try to run in a straight line. I pretty much ran sideways and tripped over my feet and landed on my face, then realised the elderly woman next door was watching the whole thing. I hope she thought I was on drugs because the fact that I was sober makes it even more embarrassing.

Anyway, I was walking along the street happily daydreaming, which means my eyes were probably glazed over and I looked like I could possibly have psychiatric problems. A woman in her car kindly stopped to let me cross at the pedestrian crossing. As I walked past the front of her car, I turned to give a quick friendly wave to say ‘thanks’ but instead half-stumbled and half-threw myself off balance, which resulted in my arms wildly flailing up in the direction of the poor woman’s car. I recovered and awkwardly tried to keep walking normally, desperately trying to avoid eye contact and pretending like it had never happened.

Just before the woman drove off, I looked up and caught a glimpse of her staring at me like she was terrified I would do the insane arm-waving thing again. Perhaps she thought it was some form of insult or that I had just cursed her first-born child or something.

I leave you with the strangest thing I have heard in the last week. Upon asking my friend what she would do if I died, she replied without hesitation “I would skin you and use you as a blanket.” I am going to avoid her next winter in case she gets cold and decides to slaughter me.

Volcanoes

At some point in my childhood I was briefly but intensely obsessed with volcanoes. I think it was a National Geographic article that inspired this passionate longing.

The topic came up in school not long afterwards. I remember sitting at my desk with this feeling of awe sweeping over me, a spark of self-righteous pride rising through me when the teacher mentioned the difference between lava and magma, because I already knew that. I was absolutely and irrevocably sure that this made me the most informed child in the world on volcano-related matters; the girl people would point at it in the streets and whisper, in part shock and part reverence, “She’s the one who knows about volcanoes.”

I had glorious dreams where my hometown was in terrible danger from a nearby volcano as it threatened to pour red-hot lava over us all; and somehow (this part was always hazy) I would save everyone through my immense library of knowledge about volcanoes and complete lack of fear, also while wearing a cape of some sort.

Then the next National Geographic magazine arrived, featuring an article about the fascinating creatures of the deep sea. I was wildly excited until I remembered that I was an appallingly pathetic swimmer and was somewhat frightened of the ocean.