Do it till you get caught is a great philosophy of which I have tried to live my life by.....the doing it part has been fun, the getting caught, not so.
My admirable adage that has taken me places in the past finally tripped me up in the weekend.
I foolishly believed as promised that there would be plenty of food at the Joe Cocker concert in the picturesque Mudhouse winery and to not bother packing a hamper. I threw in a bag of Copper Kettle Fries for good measure. I did manage to find some wine and consume it and a couple of handfuls of the aforementioned crisps as well as half a steak sandwich.
High on Savignon and the atmosphere I decided to venture closer to the stage to witness first hand the aging rocker. After performing several party tricks of slipping between the railings I forged on towards the stage, lured on by the melodious crooning like a sailor to the Sirens.
Before I knew it, the long arm of Security had me in it's evil grip escorting me out through the in door and depositing me unceremoniously in the car park. "Removed due to intoxication!"
I stood there incredulously, pondering my next move. What do I do now? So I made a drunken phone call. That's what everyone does in the movies, protesting my innocence to my unsuspecting friend who tried to calm me from afar.
Meanwhile, the group of ten I arrived with were no doubt equally gobsmacked. Two of whom were stone cold sober (a very attractive option about now)but similarly dazed. I was blessed with above average intelligence company this evening; the one I had married 22 yrs ago accompanied by a quick thinking man adept at trivia. They wandered out to the perimeter armed with another ticket (we managed to have spare) and the advice to "lose the jacket, they are looking for a lady in a long black jacket..."
Keen to be reunited with the herd, I tossed the jacket off (whereabouts still unknown) and joined them in a re-entry to the concert post WW2 veterans would be proud of.
Our covert operation a success, I blended back into oblivion.....
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
deal of the century...
I am still reeling over the deal of the century received by a customer at the spring shop on Tuesday.....
As a consumer, how many places can you go to, if any where you walk in with a problem, speak to one person, wait 90 seconds to have it fixed, then pay $5 for it!
The problem and solution, in depth....
Auto garage door spring breaks, auto garage door doesn't work, manually work garage door till someone has the time to get spring fixed. Find spring fixer. Come into spring shop after Christmas when everyone has jobs to do and get in queue. Speak to competent Dutch owner/engineer who fixes the problem by bending up a new end to the spring in 90 seconds flat. No call out fee, no empty promises of prompt arrival to an agreed appointment, no lag time, no bill that will take you another year to pay off, i.e. NO bullshit...
What a PR exercise. Clayton's Dutch owner ''could'' have taken job sheet out, made customer wait a week to collect, (lots of manual garage door opening), lost job due to busyness and post Xmas workplace blues and to complete the experience, taken 90 seconds to do the job and charge a minimum one hour labour fee costing the customer easily and plausibly $50.
That is what I call service.....
As a consumer, how many places can you go to, if any where you walk in with a problem, speak to one person, wait 90 seconds to have it fixed, then pay $5 for it!
The problem and solution, in depth....
Auto garage door spring breaks, auto garage door doesn't work, manually work garage door till someone has the time to get spring fixed. Find spring fixer. Come into spring shop after Christmas when everyone has jobs to do and get in queue. Speak to competent Dutch owner/engineer who fixes the problem by bending up a new end to the spring in 90 seconds flat. No call out fee, no empty promises of prompt arrival to an agreed appointment, no lag time, no bill that will take you another year to pay off, i.e. NO bullshit...
What a PR exercise. Clayton's Dutch owner ''could'' have taken job sheet out, made customer wait a week to collect, (lots of manual garage door opening), lost job due to busyness and post Xmas workplace blues and to complete the experience, taken 90 seconds to do the job and charge a minimum one hour labour fee costing the customer easily and plausibly $50.
That is what I call service.....
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I see a light...
After having completed six days full time, my year of work is over....well back to one day a week so I can fit in all my crafts....
It was great to pull in to 58 Falsgrave Street in a separate car an hour after Ant and witness the wheels of industry grinding back into action. I could almost hear the coins dropping into our business account replenishing the empty jar.
I swept in euphoric in the knowledge that tomorrow I was free again, high fiving the returning foot soldiers whilst simultaneously passing on the baton of responsibility. Having provided support, nutrition and the odd marketing tip for the last week my work was now complete.
Back to my real life.....
It was great to pull in to 58 Falsgrave Street in a separate car an hour after Ant and witness the wheels of industry grinding back into action. I could almost hear the coins dropping into our business account replenishing the empty jar.
I swept in euphoric in the knowledge that tomorrow I was free again, high fiving the returning foot soldiers whilst simultaneously passing on the baton of responsibility. Having provided support, nutrition and the odd marketing tip for the last week my work was now complete.
Back to my real life.....
crafty....
This could be the year of craft.....look what my super talented friend Suzy made from driftwood collected off the beach and an idea from Casual and Country in Ferrymead.....they retail for $600+ and she made it...." It was super easy to make, in fact I made it after drinking 2 glasses of wine." That is my type of craft class.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Hell Week...
Productivity is at an all time low at this time of year.....with all the winding down for Christmas and the required winding back up again after a relaxing/exhausting holiday break, it is a wonder anything gets achieved at the workplace. Ant and I have been valiantly holding the fort while the 8 strong staff wallow about on annual leave for a further week in a bid to reduce their rising leave allocation.
Customers lay ed in wait for our triumphant return after two weeks of carefree, clock less schedules, ruthlessly stripping us of our previous joi de vivre. My fingertips have infected with dermatitis from the red hot ringing phone.
Day 4 at the coalface has left me shaken but not stirred. I have had one run this week (snail's pace 4km), poor nutrition, less than standard attirement and dodgy bowel motions. In this time I have managed to see three friends and snatch around 4-7 hrs average per night of sleep. Mothering (taxi driving at ungodly hours, cleaning, washing, gardening, walking the dog) continues to sap any residual strength.
The couch beckons, taunting me with is vacancy as I bid it a solemn farewell again and am thrusted head first into the depths of the industrial zone....
Customers lay ed in wait for our triumphant return after two weeks of carefree, clock less schedules, ruthlessly stripping us of our previous joi de vivre. My fingertips have infected with dermatitis from the red hot ringing phone.
Day 4 at the coalface has left me shaken but not stirred. I have had one run this week (snail's pace 4km), poor nutrition, less than standard attirement and dodgy bowel motions. In this time I have managed to see three friends and snatch around 4-7 hrs average per night of sleep. Mothering (taxi driving at ungodly hours, cleaning, washing, gardening, walking the dog) continues to sap any residual strength.
The couch beckons, taunting me with is vacancy as I bid it a solemn farewell again and am thrusted head first into the depths of the industrial zone....
Monday, January 10, 2011
Happy Nude Rear 2011...
All Virgos love a clean slate. I am born again ready for embellishment. Please refer to my new improved serene photo - pre Transcendental Meditation. More on that later.
Have decided to 1. change my photo 2. link my blog to Face book for ease of use (just need to work out how to do it) 3. Report regularly on new and wonderful websites.
Having completed 1. and 3. I am going to jump straight in.
The first website being:
http://www.eco-grow.co.nz/bioproducts.php
This site came to my attention through a very close (no names mentioned here) friend who unfortunately never had the information. If I can save just one other of the humiliation faced on board a pleasure craft (or anywhere) where she was at the mercy of her colon in front of what may or may not have been a future daughter in law, then my work will be done.
If you scroll down to the wondrous invention of the hallowed "Bio Toi" you too will be able to order some. This will enable you to excrete freely, capture unmentionables in tasteful fully biodegradable bag which can float proudly on the sea's glistening surface alongside blissfully ignorant snorkelers. As not to foul the ocean or trap albatrosses, it will eventually break down long after your vessel has departed leaving you relieved, complete with your pride in place.
On a serious note, this is an excellent website that we owe it to ourselves to purchase from if we give an iota about this planet! Support Kiwis, support green.
Another community service completed. I am sure I will get a mention in the new years list for this one next time.
Have decided to 1. change my photo 2. link my blog to Face book for ease of use (just need to work out how to do it) 3. Report regularly on new and wonderful websites.
Having completed 1. and 3. I am going to jump straight in.
The first website being:
http://www.eco-grow.co.nz/bioproducts.php
This site came to my attention through a very close (no names mentioned here) friend who unfortunately never had the information. If I can save just one other of the humiliation faced on board a pleasure craft (or anywhere) where she was at the mercy of her colon in front of what may or may not have been a future daughter in law, then my work will be done.
If you scroll down to the wondrous invention of the hallowed "Bio Toi" you too will be able to order some. This will enable you to excrete freely, capture unmentionables in tasteful fully biodegradable bag which can float proudly on the sea's glistening surface alongside blissfully ignorant snorkelers. As not to foul the ocean or trap albatrosses, it will eventually break down long after your vessel has departed leaving you relieved, complete with your pride in place.
On a serious note, this is an excellent website that we owe it to ourselves to purchase from if we give an iota about this planet! Support Kiwis, support green.
Another community service completed. I am sure I will get a mention in the new years list for this one next time.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A Trip to the Horse's Mouth...
Two previously shaken Christchurch women take a day out to offer support and cake to the currently shaken Wild West coast.
The recent predicament of the 29 nine miners and the resulting fallout left in their wake, necessitated an emergency run of home baking to the Greymouth township.
A last minute invitation by a pharmacy guild board member AKA my bestie to join her on a mercy mission to the town’s two pharmacies had me hurriedly clearing my calendar and packing my day bag.
The 50th birthday party celebrations attended the night before is not recommended as a good prerequisite for traversing the Otira Gorge. The restorative sausage roll at Springfield petrol station did little to restore or assuage the nausea.
Once loaded up on fuel and saturated fats we headed west according to Patrick our friendly Tom Tom cyber compatriot.
Toting banana cakes and savoury muffins cooked that very morning by the gifted chemist/epicurean, nestled in their baking tins and tea towels, we ventured deep into the pass awed at the encompassing grandeur. After snaking our way through the precarious roads, motion, sleep deprivation and a propensity for narcolepsy took over. I was blissfully brought back by the gentle humming; word for word of the “Mum” CD that had been loaded into the sound system in the absence of cognisant adult company by the driver. The dulcet tones of a Bryan Adams old favourite; Heaven revamped for the 2001 Twin Towers tragedy thrust us right into the required melancholic mood for our entry into the scene of the tragedy.
We drove into the town centre following our nose and Patrick’s instructions and quickly found the first pharmacy and then the second about 100m down the road. We then parked our car dangerously close to the local fish and chip shop. Drawn like a moth to the flame, I lingered with intent outside, willing additional saturated fats into my system via osmosis.
Refocusing on the job at hand, we gathered our home fare, wrapping one cake and hiding it in my large handbag allowing us the convenience of concurrent visits. The first pharmacy was pleasantly surprised at our spontaneous visit and offer of nutrition and support. The two female owners worked on stoically whilst simultaneously explaining the events and reactions of the locals over the past week. We listened attentively and offered in person support by the mere fact of our presence. Commission over, we travelled to the next pharmacy, a smaller operation. So as not to cause an overkill, I left it to the expert and waited outside gauging the feeling of the immediate township.
The central township was surprisingly un-overcome by grieving locals or media; local and international, tripping over each other for more breaking news. I strained my eyes for glimpses of Peter Williams and his TVNZ entourage. The closest I got was a well dressed man in covered shoes with a notepad loitering at a doorway. A lone helicopter buzzed overhead.
We entered a florist shop and felt the tension of the overrun staff. We later learned that the mother daughter combination; a popular form of business ownership in this town, had sustained a loss at the hands of the Pike River mine explosion but were compelled to comply with the unprecedented demand.
Another dress shop we ventured into also was unsurprised or perturbed by the company of obvious outsiders and surmised that we were also foreign media.
A final stop at a local watering hole to form the ultimate measure of emotion, we took up residence at an outdoor table and observed first hand, general townspeople behaviour. The local cafe owner brought us out our fifteen dollar roasted vege salad with accompanying sauvignons without entering into any local banter. Whether they do or do not usually was uncertain.
The only sign we found of the elephant in the room residing in Greymouth was the two signs we had seen haphazardly pinned in local retailer’s windows heralding sympathies to the universe or to whoever passed.
Giving Pike River mine a respectful wide berth, we departed shortly after 3pm a week exactly after the first explosion. We later learned of just missing a third explosion.
Bathed in a virtuous glow we headed home east with only the sounds of the rattling empty baking tins and the B side of the CD as company.
The recent predicament of the 29 nine miners and the resulting fallout left in their wake, necessitated an emergency run of home baking to the Greymouth township.
A last minute invitation by a pharmacy guild board member AKA my bestie to join her on a mercy mission to the town’s two pharmacies had me hurriedly clearing my calendar and packing my day bag.
The 50th birthday party celebrations attended the night before is not recommended as a good prerequisite for traversing the Otira Gorge. The restorative sausage roll at Springfield petrol station did little to restore or assuage the nausea.
Once loaded up on fuel and saturated fats we headed west according to Patrick our friendly Tom Tom cyber compatriot.
Toting banana cakes and savoury muffins cooked that very morning by the gifted chemist/epicurean, nestled in their baking tins and tea towels, we ventured deep into the pass awed at the encompassing grandeur. After snaking our way through the precarious roads, motion, sleep deprivation and a propensity for narcolepsy took over. I was blissfully brought back by the gentle humming; word for word of the “Mum” CD that had been loaded into the sound system in the absence of cognisant adult company by the driver. The dulcet tones of a Bryan Adams old favourite; Heaven revamped for the 2001 Twin Towers tragedy thrust us right into the required melancholic mood for our entry into the scene of the tragedy.
We drove into the town centre following our nose and Patrick’s instructions and quickly found the first pharmacy and then the second about 100m down the road. We then parked our car dangerously close to the local fish and chip shop. Drawn like a moth to the flame, I lingered with intent outside, willing additional saturated fats into my system via osmosis.
Refocusing on the job at hand, we gathered our home fare, wrapping one cake and hiding it in my large handbag allowing us the convenience of concurrent visits. The first pharmacy was pleasantly surprised at our spontaneous visit and offer of nutrition and support. The two female owners worked on stoically whilst simultaneously explaining the events and reactions of the locals over the past week. We listened attentively and offered in person support by the mere fact of our presence. Commission over, we travelled to the next pharmacy, a smaller operation. So as not to cause an overkill, I left it to the expert and waited outside gauging the feeling of the immediate township.
The central township was surprisingly un-overcome by grieving locals or media; local and international, tripping over each other for more breaking news. I strained my eyes for glimpses of Peter Williams and his TVNZ entourage. The closest I got was a well dressed man in covered shoes with a notepad loitering at a doorway. A lone helicopter buzzed overhead.
We entered a florist shop and felt the tension of the overrun staff. We later learned that the mother daughter combination; a popular form of business ownership in this town, had sustained a loss at the hands of the Pike River mine explosion but were compelled to comply with the unprecedented demand.
Another dress shop we ventured into also was unsurprised or perturbed by the company of obvious outsiders and surmised that we were also foreign media.
A final stop at a local watering hole to form the ultimate measure of emotion, we took up residence at an outdoor table and observed first hand, general townspeople behaviour. The local cafe owner brought us out our fifteen dollar roasted vege salad with accompanying sauvignons without entering into any local banter. Whether they do or do not usually was uncertain.
The only sign we found of the elephant in the room residing in Greymouth was the two signs we had seen haphazardly pinned in local retailer’s windows heralding sympathies to the universe or to whoever passed.
Giving Pike River mine a respectful wide berth, we departed shortly after 3pm a week exactly after the first explosion. We later learned of just missing a third explosion.
Bathed in a virtuous glow we headed home east with only the sounds of the rattling empty baking tins and the B side of the CD as company.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
