How far are you willing to let it go?

Everyone I know has a job, and with jobs come colleagues. Colleagues are an odd thing when you think about it, you spend more time with them than anyone else, they see you at your best and at your worst, and yet they aren't your friends. They are not people you choose to spend time with, you may not even like them very much, but you are forced into this situation of almost cohabitation during work hours. They are not friends, they are not strangers they are somewhere on the middle.

So here's the thing, a colleague of mine is going through some crazy personal issues, they are emotionally in turmoil. Of this I am all aware having made them tea and listen to their tales of woe, and to their plight I am sympathetic. Being a good colleague I have soothed and listened, especially when they started being brought to task with their work. Ay there's the rub. Their level of work is beginning to be affected, and being aware of what he/she is going through, how far are you willing to let it go?

You have sympathised with him/her, and listened when she needed you to but now he/she is dropping the ball with things and it's affecting you and your work, what now? Should you continue to let is go and hope that when he/she feels better things will improve? In other words behave like a friend. Or haul their ass over the coals until they bucks their ideas up? Neither options are great, either you are a doormat or the office bitch, not a persona you want to wear during office hours.

So is there a happy medium? Is it possible to be both a caring colleague and a whistle blower? What if the behaviour persists? It's not going to get better by itself, so biding your time is out, but is the answer really adding fuel to the fire that is already burning? What if you can't help yourself? I pride myself on doing a good job, when I am at work, my head is at work, and unfortunately this person's seems to be somewhere else. Is it acceptable for someone to bring down the team, like a lame doe at the back of the herd, or should the fat be trimmed?

Maybe it's kinder, as pandering to their needs doesn't seem to have helped, maybe some tough love is in order. I guess the big question is when someone's capability is being called into question, should their personal hardships be taken into account? If you look at their work with an ice cold eye and it doesn't come up to scratch, if you asses their recent abilities and find that they are not capable, then surely there's your answer. As harsh as it sound but should we really be taking into account people's personal issues when we are look at their ability to do the job?

Simple questions, are they performing to the standard required? No, but their dog died/brother is sick/husband left them... Here's the tricky bit, how much of their personal life should you be taking into account? If they are unable to perform the job that they are contracted to do then they are not capable. So in a review of their capabilities, the answer is no.

Harsh but true. One can always hope, though, maybe they will get the message and leave their personal stuff at home when they come to work, or maybe getting the boot is what they need. Yes, one can always hope for a happy ending, but London life, I find, is not always like that.

First Impressions

I had an interesting debate the other day that got me to thinking about first impressions and snap judgments, more specifically, the initial attraction nor non attraction when meeting someone for the first time.

Scientists and Sociological experts tell us that we make decisions about people within the first ten seconds, it's all to do with hormones and body language. It seems we are essentially animals at heart and it’s all about the way we smell and react to each other. That aside, our brains are also furiously working away taking in the hair, the face, the body, the clothes and that's all before the opening line. I have a friend who can scan the room and decided within seconds if she is interested in anyone in it, she usually mentally discards the entire room based on their looks and appearance (she is stunning so she gets away with only dating the crème de la crème), the result is quick and efficient, no lengthy decision process, a once over and she has a definite yes or no and I don't think she has ever wavered from her original assessment. She used to say that looks and sexual attraction came first with her and if she didn't immediately fancy someone, and by fancy I mean someone she wouldn't be adverse to getting down and dirty with, then they would never be anymore than a friend to her. The personality and emotional feeling come second, it would seem. They had to be Hot first, then if they were nice/sweet/funny it was a bonus and she would then proceed entertain the idea of going out with them (again, she really is that beautiful).

The conversation I had the other day was pretty much along the same lines, he stated that in every relationship you had to find your partner physically attractive in order for it to work, and it would seem that this is another area where I am in the minority! I agree that there has to be an attraction, but why does it have to be physical? Instead of ten second, I usually give people about ten minutes, usually by then I can tell if I am kinda interested or not. Now don't get me wrong I am no saint, if a man repulses me then that's that, I'm not doing charity here. I have, although, often found myself noticing a guy has a great smile once I know that he is really funny, or thinking he has great hair if I know we have something in common. If a man is beautiful and strolls up and bores me to tears I won't be attracted to him, no matter how pretty he is. Where as if an average looking man makes me cry with laughter than I will probably be making him breakfast later...

So here lies my point is attraction purely physical? Is it possible to find yourself truly attracted to a person when you initial reacting to just his looks wasn't as positive as when you left? Does it have to be instant? Or should I be looking for that love at first sight, stomach flipping sensation because frankly, I'm not sure I believe in that. If by the end of an evening/date/meeting you think that you have met someone smart/funny/sexy should you be wary if you did not immediately think he was better looking than Brad Pitt? And what about if you've know them a long time? I can recall a gentleman that when I first met him thought he was nothing special, I even went so far as to think his reputation as a Love Lothario was largely exaggerated, needless to say my opinion changed, but the question is should it have? Say it had turned into a relationship (which it didn’t) would it have eventually become stale and boring because I wasn’t attracted to him in a purely physical manner? Or would it have been better as his Charm and Wit would continue to impress me even when his beer swilling habits gave him a gut and he could barely see his equipment let alone use it efficiently? Who knows!

One more thing, what if you’re no Angelina yourself? Should you still be holding out for Brad? Or should you have more realistic targets? If your willing to settle for nothing less than a Greek God, what happened when the God wants a Goddess and not a pasty HR Administrator, what then? Alcohol and a punctured condom? If it’s all the same with you, I will stick to my way; I may not get Zeus, thunder god of my bedroom, but at least I won’t have to worry about my straighteners shorting out.

Lilttle Lou

Lil Lou was a very good girl,
But her Daddy went away.
She cried but he would not come back
No matter what she'd say.

Lou's Mummy had a special friend
And he would often stay
She asked her mummy once at night
Did he drive her Pa away?

Her Daddy came in his big car
But not into the house.
Not even one foot would he step
While he was with his spouse.

So Daddy stood in the doorway
While mummy smoked a fag
I'm taking Lou, your self respect,
And I will take the Jag!

You'll get nothing you dirty Whore,
You did wrong to me first!
There's an elephant in the room,
And I will see him cursed!

An Elephant! said Little Lou!
In this very room?
We don't talk about it, do we Lou?
But we will very soon.

A special, secret, Elephant
That no one talks about.
An Elephant inside this room
That Lou would ferret out.

Is he Big and Blue and Shiny?
With a long and bendy trunk?
Or is he pink and small like me?
Asleep inside my bunk!

He's a secretive animal,
That everyone knows.
In fact, He is the worst kept pet,
Dressed up in sheepskin clothes!

Lou looked everywhere, high and low.
Even behind the stairs.
She couldn't find the elephant.
Not for all her cares.

It's not for you, her mother snapped.
Your Dad was being a fool.
And be careful what you say of this,
When you go back to school.

Next day, at school, when Lou was called
To talk of her weekend
She screwed her face to recall her plight
The loss of her new friend.

There's an Elephant, in the room
That no one talks about!
They say it's there, but I can't see it.
And It makes everyone shout!

It's hiding see, I don't know where,
But I can't let it roam!
You see with it lose, and running free
My Daddy won't come home!

Lou's Teacher called her Mum and Dad,
And told them what she'd said.
Your child here, is very confused,
These notions in her head!

The Nelly must have gone away,
Cause Lou's Pop came Home!
And no more talk of elephants,
Or sleepovers for mum!

London Lads vs. Brighton Boys

I was invited to stay at a friend’s house for an evening over the long weekend; she lives in Brighton, so obviously I jumped at the chance of an evening of fun and sun by the beach. So I turn up and we spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, reminiscing about our ill spent youths, where and what people are doing now, past and present relationships and the topic of sex might have come up once or twice as well.

Then, we went out for a night on the tiles, I was taken to a few bars and introduced to Tuaca - a Brighton shot that was quite yummy, and we ended up at a club called Coalition. After an hour or so of serious dancing my friend went out for a cigarette and while I waited for her to come back found myself being chatted up by a very cute Australian Guy. Shortly after my friend decided she had far too much to drink and should take herself home to bed, my new Australian friend requested that I stay, and he asked so nicely I decided that it would be rude not to! After a fun filled evening, night and early morning with the Australian I ended up back at his place. It was upon waking up at his very nice flat, being given some very nice coffee and repeating last nights performance on his very nice corner group sofa that I got to thinking I could get used to this. When he dropped me back off at my friends in his Porsche I really was converted.

It started me thinking about what I had gotten used dating in London and maybe the Boys of Brighton had the edge; the Australian being my second Brighton Boy I feel inclined to examine the evidence.

First we have the flats: nice, beach adjacent, clean properties that are spacious, well furnished and solely occupied. Compare this to cramped, cupboard sized flats, overlooking dank alleyways and usually with one or two flatmates included. Flats are more expensive in London, I know, and there is less space so everything is pocket sized for your convenience but I've got to admit when it comes to real estate the Brightonians have got it licked, who wants to bounce around the bedroom like a ball in a pinball machine when you can run laps in the living room?

Then we have the cars, both Brighton boys had beautiful, and expensive convertible type cars where as most London lads don't even drive. Granted you don't need to drive in London, in fact it is preferable not to, but being greeted with a Porsche when your boy toy offers you a lift home instead of a moped made me feel all warm inside - but then, maybe that was the heated seats.

Finally there is the image, and that almost indescribable cool factor. Now don't get me wrong, I like a man in a suit, and most London boys clean up very nicely, and on a daily basis too, but after a while I get the impression that they have become style robots, spending so much of their life in the grey suit that mentally they have become a grey suit. I also think that the high stress lifestyles has bred a strain nervous dispositions, terrified of losing their jobs and climbing career ladders with the hunger of that of a small country means that most London boys spend their time wired up to blow at any second. Much like a highly excitable puppy, cute in a nervous way, but one false move and it will pee on your carpet. In Brighton it was refreshing to be surrounded by calm, collected people who are so completely at home in their own skin you can't help feeling more relaxed yourself. There is self expression on every corner, be it clothing, tattoos, piercing or hair, creating diversity that one usually only sees at the pick and mix counter.

Now I feel I haven't been fair to my London Lads, they are responsible for a fair amount of my past shenanigans, it is not, after all, their fault, they have evolved from their environment. Like a wary traveller suddenly coming face to face with a bird of paradise after being used to sparrows, I was dazzled by the bright feathers of the Brighton Boys, but let's face it; I am at heart a London girl. I think if I was to fully convert to their Brighton way I would soon be exposed as a fraud, my cynicism and insecurities would crack through the shiny exterior. So maybe I should stick with what I know, I mean really, a little neurosis is healthy isn't it?

What Shall We Do Today?

A quick pet hate, picture the scene, it's the morning after and your lying in the afterglow of your coital activities, the sheets are crumpled, your hair is a bird nest and with any luck you've barely slept a wink. Your muscles ache, your toes are tingling and all you can smell is sex, sweat and spit. Then comes the dreaded question, "what do you want to do now?" Umm, Now? "What shall we do today" Today!?

I hate this question, normally you are at their place and unless you are super organised and/or physic you only have to wear what was torn off you a few hours ago (or a couple if it was a really good night) and therefore only have the one crumpled set of clothes from the night before. Your spent most of the night rutting like wild animals and the rest of it tangled in each others arms and now you want to spend the day together as well? Let’s start with the practical reasons, I do not have my things here, and even if I want you to believe that I am a low maintenance, easy-going girl, it still takes more than the travel toothbrush and tub of Vaseline I have in my purse to create the vision you picked up the night before.

"You can shower here" - Oh great, so you have stocked the high shine conditioner it takes to tame my hair have you? And I'm sure you don't mind me using your razor on my legs and arm pits, I'll just de-hair the areas I sweat most out of, then you can use it on your face, ok with you? You have already purchased make up remover, I'm sure, unless of course you like the "escaped panda from the zoo" look, do you? No of course you don't, and of course you haven't. Then you're hoping I have packed my own makeup to reapply, after I have had to scrub my face raw with a tea towel come facecloth that smells of mildew and has questionable stains. You will not complain one bit that I have to use your expensive, concentrated "a little is enough" post shave balm, liberally on my face an neck to salvage the damage done by the combination of no sleep and no makeup remover. I may even need to use a little on some toilet roll to remove the more stubborn mascara, I may have to use half the tube, but you won't mind will you? Not to mention all the rest; shower gel, assuming you have some, deodorant, yes I will smell like your brother making you more confused than a teenage boy, and yes I will have to turn my pants inside out, you are not the only ones who know this trick (assuming I can find them).

After all that I have to put on the clothes that I partied in last night, if I am lucky they are jeans and a top and they are clean. If I am unlucky (and more likely considering current situation) they are a revealing dress, which is the opposite of comfortable, high heels that can no way be camouflaged as day wear, and tights, which were probably laddered in the process. So there I am in my "so sexy the night before, so trashy the morning after" dress, bare white legs and ridiculously high heeled shoes, good for club wiggling, bad for day walking, and you want to go do something?

Practicalities aside, aren't you sick of me? You saw me all of last evening and more of me last night, let take today to reflect. I need some me time, don't you? Half the fun is going away and getting those delightful little flashbacks of the night before while you are soaking in the bath. You call your friends, get some laundry done, eat something unhealthy, take a nap, moisturise! If you miss me send me a text, we love that! Don't hold me hostage! Be a man and take me home, we can grab lunch the day after; it doesn't need to be now.

What shall we do today? Nothing. The questions should be what we shall do tomorrow or better yet, what shall we do next week?

Barmaids Flirt – It’s our job to!

It has been brought to my attention that men are labouring under some kind of delusion and I feel for the good of womankind they need to be snapped out of it.

I work in a pub on Saturday nights, I find it a useful little earner in that it keeps me busy and it's cash in hand work: it makes me feel less guilty about buying that £3 bean salad from EAT which is not even the size of my fist. So, I am a part-time barmaid, and to be clear I am YOUNG part-time barmaid. Less than 25 years old for God’s sake, and the gentleman in question was aware of this. The gentleman in question is 36 but he looks older. He is also a beard wearing, bitter drinking, national trust gardener who is rumoured to pick up road kill to take it home to cook and frankly, looks like he might. Now none of that has ever really mattered to me, why would it?

Now here comes the part to burst thousands of male bubbles... brace yourselves. Any good barmaid worth her taps knows how to flirt with the customers. Now listen closely, we flirt, smile and chat and you stay in the pub and have a good time, you buy more beer and everyone's happy. WE DO NOT FANCY YOU. We are paid to do this! Do you think we like Rod Stewart and Abba that much that we want to listen to it uninterrupted? Hell no! At best, bar work is tedious and repetitive, so chatting to people is the only entertainment we got going for us.

I knew Crusty Man took a shine to me by the time he leered at me; it's the sort of look that makes a girl stand up and tug her skirt down. So he turns up, he hands me a card, tells me the company he work for are having a party next week and if I want to go I should call him. I was so shocked I stammered out “thanks” and put the card on the side, and then he downed the rest of his pint and scampered off.

So to prevent any further confusion, I'm telling you now, the next time you think you have a chance with the barmaid, stand in front of the mirror, take a good long look at your self and ask yourself one question. Do I resemble her Dad?

Peaceful Protest?

Yesterday morning, I freely admit that I was a little disapproving if the "crusty bashing" that was being spouted in my office. The general consensus was that the protesters were lazy, lay about soap dodgers with nothing better to do. One person even commented that we should go down and do a recruitment drive as there would be plenty of people there who were unemployed, I believe the most common joke is that today will be less populated due to most of them picking up their giro.

To begin with I thought it was a little cruel to stereotype these people and think the worst of them. Sure most of them were a little hippy-ish but that's doesn't not meant that they aren't well mannered and educated people! If they choose to express themselves in a manner that includes nose rings, camouflages trousers and Mohawks, who are we to judge?

In the cold light of day, the morning after, I have changed my mind. Peaceful protest? PEACEFUL PROTEST!!! I don't think throwing a screen through the RBS window was particularly peaceful, or the fires they started around Bank station. They had to be driven back towards London Bridge at 2 in the morning, like the devil's minions being driven into the sea! All you needed was the police to carry swords instead of riot gear and you have a scene from Lord of the Rings. A man died for pity's sake, I know it was natural causes, but maybe the Paramedics could have been more help to him if they didn't have to contend with bottles being thrown at them.

What are the rest of the world going to think of us? We are supposed to be a nation of queues, crumpets and tea but we are showing ourselves recently to be more a people that enjoy riots. If it’s not hooligans being banned from football matches its peaceful protests turning into wars, as a country we appears to have “Little Island Syndrome”.

So yes this morning I have changed my opinion, lock all the Crusties up, give them a wash and a shave and make them work for a living. How about when they can honestly say that the Economic Crisis is affecting more than just the price of tobacco in their roll ups, they can have a say, until then they should keep their violent “protests” to themselves!