Money, money, money

I've been asking for a payrise from the Powers That Be here at Clerkenwell Towers for a while now. To fill you in on the background, I took a big paycut a while back so I could job-share with my mate Rooster. But this arrangement only lasted about 6 months, after which he disappeared up North to concentrate on cutting an album with his band. Therefore, I was working full-time on a part-time salary. What's more, I was being paid for doing reception work when I was also doing PA stuff, and facilities stuff, and all sorts of other things.

It all came to a head when a temp agency (the one that got me this job in the first place) gave me a booklet that showed average salaries for administrative workers in London. It turned out that I was being paid the same as a receptionist in a small suburban doctor's surgery.

Clerkenwell Towers isn't a small suburban doctor's surgery. It's a big, US-owned media company.

It became clear to me that maybe I wasn't being paid enough.

Now, many months after I first asked for a bit more money, the financial controller came over to me with a smile on his face.

"You're going to love me," he said. "I've got you your pay rise".

And he named a figure that was five thousand pounds more per year than I currently earn. I squealed in delight.

"There's more," he said, smile widening. "They're backdating your payrise."

"From when?"

"From February 1st."

 

Oh.

My.

God!

 

I'm so happy, I could puke. This month's pay packet is going to be a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you.

Join me in a celebratory dance.
20.9.06 13:27


Down the Rabbit hole... again

Along with Floatykatja, over the last few weeks I have been having an adventure at the National Theatre, orchestrated by the mysterious Rabbit. It reached its dramatic conclusion on Saturday night in a flurry of biscuits and temperamental radios and shadows and magic. It was brilliant, and bewildering, and quite, quite barmy.

I went home feeling rather sad that the adventure was all over. Back to boring old reality.

However...

www.irabbit.org/selfassembly

Oh my. It looks like adventure is back on the menu. Who's with me?
5.9.06 16:28


Enlightenment

Every other week, Clerkenwell Towers has a guy who comes in to give the staff free shiatsu massages. It's one of the perks of the job, and most of the staff go in for it. But there's just one or two who never put their names down.

I just had an extraordinary conversation with one of these nay-sayers.

Brusque northern colleague: Look at all those gayboys putting their names down for a massage.

Me: They're not gay.

BNC: They're getting a massage from a guy. That's gay.

Me: No it's not.

BNC: Totally gay.

Me: The massage guy is married with three children.

BNC: Listen, that means nothing. It's still gay.

Me: So what if it was me getting a massage from a woman?

BNC: (decisively) Lesbian.

Me: What decade are you living in?

BNC: Hey, I'm an enlightened guy.

 

That soft percolating sound you can hear is the sound of my poor mind, boggling.
31.8.06 11:26


Who says there are no more heroes?

Trilby, Jarvis and myself were out on the South Bank the other day, getting merrily drunk on cocktails and beer (for t'was payday). I dragged them along to see 'Appearing Rooms', which is a rather wonderful installation outside the Royal Festival Hall.

To quote the RFH's website, "this spectacular water sculpture by Danish artist Jeppe Hein (is a) playful work of art. Walls of water in the aquatic pavilion rise and fally randomly to divide the space into a series of smaller 'rooms', changing every ten seconds... As viewers walk through the 'rooms' they must interact with the patterns of rising and falling water if they are to leave the space without getting wet."

Or, to paraphrase, it's a load of splashy fun. Check it:

Looks good, huh? So Trilby, Jarvis and I wobble over to said art installation. We huddle together in one of the 'rooms', the bottoms of our trousers getting slightly wet.

Then Jarvis utters the immortal words, "I'll give you a tenner if you run through that wall of water."

And so...

Trilby, a (sopping wet) prince among men. He's my hero and I love him.
30.8.06 10:22


Just arrived from Lakeland Limited...

*sings* I'm going to make some chutney, I'm going to make some chutney...
18.8.06 11:02


Good morning sports racers

Clerkenwell Towers is seemingly deserted today. It appears that a great hole has opened up and swallowed all my co-workers (or maybe people are just working from home or on vacation or something. Though personally I prefer the idea that they're all lying at the bottom of a big pit somewhere. Moaning).

Thus, I am going to turn up the speakers on my PC and spend the rest of the day going through the archives of The Show. Because Ze Frank is a god to me.

I recommend that you do the same. Even if you have to dig a big pit and push all your colleagues into it.
18.8.06 09:57


Benefits

There are downsides to working at Clerkenwell Towers. The crushing boredom, for one. Also the crappy pay and the jerky colleagues and the annoying boss.

However, every now and then I realise why I like working here. Generally when one of my toner suppliers sends me a BOX FULL OF GODDAMN CHOCOLATE!

That ain't no ordinary chocolate either, hell no. We're talking Cadbury's Cocoahouse (presumably they are having some stab at being upmarket).

This month's PMS is going to be a breeze.
16.8.06 09:18


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