Oh dear. A few days ago at work, I was sitting happily at my desk, munching surreptitiously on cherry drops and typing, when the TV monitor in the corner of the room began to flash red, important looking 'breaking news' signs at us. We all stopped working, unashamedly, to watch. First, there was a speech from Mr Bush, in which he called Iraq a 'victory' and we all snorted.
Bush: "When Americans like Spanky Gibson serve on our side, the enemy in Iraq doesn't got a chance"
Reporter 1: Did he just say 'Spanky'? Cos, y'know, if ever there was a word I didn't want to hear coming out of his mouth -
Reporter 2: "The Enemy"? Are we really in a cowboys and indians movie?
Reporter 3: I can handle bad nicknames and understand the lack of subtlety, but 'doesn't got a chance'? Bad grammar makes my teeth vibrate!
Ro: Er, that's because you're gritting them so hard. I see what you mean though, how odd that's he's the most powerful man in the wo - Reporter 3, maybe you should put that knife down. You have an odd glint of maniacal despair in your eye.
And then John McCain was up.
John McCain: "It's common knowledge and has been reported in the media that Al-Qaeda is going back into Iran and receiving training and are coming back into Iraq from Iran."
Newsroom: *collective 'WUT?'*
Helpful Senator: *whisper whisper*
John McCain: "I'm sorry, the Iranians are training extremists, not Al-Qaeda."
Ro: Heh heh heh, there's no way they'll vote for him now.
Jaded Colleague: Ah, so young, so naive. They may not even report this on US tv.
Ro: But, but...he said -
Jaded Colleague: *getting nostalgic* I remember being young and idealistic once too. I was a pretty young thing back then. And could I ever shake it. My milkshake brought all
the boys to the yard.
Firstly, Sunni Al-Qaeda and Shia Iran? Big No No for the prospective next leader of the world's biggest superpower. I really think that this isn't the kind of thing you can make even a slip of the tongue about, without immediately correcting yourself, and get away with. Humans are flawed, but y'know, if all the other politicians can manage it...
Last Saturday at my sales assistant job a friend whom we shall call 'Simon' decided to make it 'turn everything into a sexual pun day'.
This was irritating at first, but became entertaining.
Pierced blonde: This duct tape is trying to peel my clothes off.
Simon: Wa-hey! *eyebrow wiggle*
Lady Manager: Do you know where the rest of this pole kit is? I'm looking for some more nuts.
Lady Manager: *death stare of ultimate Doom*
Simon: *weakly* -hey?
My manager asked me very politely on the same day if I was sure I was suited to retail. I wasn't sure how to tell him that I'm certain that I'm not
suited to retail, but really need the money, (and I was surprised by how much he seemed to think I'd chosen the job rather than had to take something, anything, to fund my gap year). Apparently, I had been pegged as a 'long term player' in the department at first, but I haven't quite lived up to that lately. I was mystery shopped recently. This is when people come around and pretend to be shoppers and then grade you on your acknowledging them, building the sale and closing it. I'm not enthusiastic enough and am not a pushy enough seller (according to my scorecard) and did not do very well. This is sad, but not terribly unexpected. He told me kindly to take a couple of weeks to think about it, but made a point of saying he'd like me to stay on if I still want to, since he thinks I could improve with more experience. I'm not sure if this is just meant as a warning, or is the nice way of getting someone to resign to avoid having to sack them.
At any rate, I'm going to see if I can stay until the end of May at least. I might start looking for something at a small shop, where I'd be able to get away with not being as pushy. I did decide to sell a bit of my soul and start asking customers - who comprise mostly of young couples with children or elderly people - if they wanted to buy partnership cards. I even managed to sell one. I felt a little bit like Ethan from Shortpacked
. On the bright side, it made my manager a little happier with me.
To balance out all that woe, there was a shining point of awesome this week. A friend of my parents runs a national ethnic newspaper for which I write reports every so often. They had their annual glitzy awards ceremony last night which I volunteered to help with. It can get a little dull, but and I get to meet up with friends I don't see very often, and we all get free food and can sneak out some of the hotel's soaps. Last night David Miliband, Hazel Blears, Boris Johnson and William Hague all made appearances and gave very different speeches, (Boris Johnson's being about a three, and William Hague's, much as it pains me to say this, about an eight).
My friend, whom we shall call Glitter, accidentally introduced herself to Boris Johnson. She was with another friend who, as a professional in his 20s, is used to networking.
Used to networking: Hello, my name is blah. *firm handshake* And this is...
Glitter: Er, hello...
Used to networking: *Spots David Miliband and scurries off*
Boris Johnson: O.o
Glitter is not the best conversationalist when she's nervous. And I don't converse at all when I'm nervous. So I was understandably worried when she decided we had to introduce ourselves to Alan Johnston
, and take another friend, whom we shall call Sparkle, along with us.
Ro: But what will we say? "Hi, glad you're not dead!"
Glitter: *steering me firmly along* I'm sure he'd appreciate the sentiment. Just don't say nothing.
Sparkle: *strategically cornering Alan Johnston against his table* Hello! We just wanted to introduce ourselves. *firm handshake* I'm Sparkle and these are...
Glitter: *sighing and firmly steering me away* I'm sorry. She has trouble using her words sometimes.
Once I'd pulled myself together and managed to speak again I discovered what a lovely man Alan Johnston really is. He stood there, dodging passing waiters and dishes delicately balanced on fingertips which went zooming past our heads, and talked to us for ages. And the nicest thing was that he didn't just wait for us to run out of questions for him, but asked about us in return, which none of the other figures of note there on the night managed to do when cornered by three nervous teenage volunteers.
Once we'd brought it up he would every so often allude to the whole kidnap in Gaza for which he's best known, and occasionally he would make it self-deprecatingly funny. It was terrible not knowing whether to laugh or not, (we gave up in the end and laughed, since he was laughing too).
A definite point of awesome in what could otherwise have been a fairly boring night.
On a completely different note, I was just Rickrolled. Wow, the internet is a strange place.