Have You Tried Turning it Off and On Again?

Exciting times, kiddliewinks! It would appear that I have decided to make 2013 the year of doing jobs you’re supposed to do when you’re 16. I have spent the last four months working as a waitress and being paid minimum wage to carry heavy plates, be yelled at, and clean up after rich people’s children (and rich people, for that matter.) Four months was sufficient time for me to establish that I never, ever want to do that again. I enjoyed the company of my fellow food-slaves, the music was good to dance to and there were occasions where I actually had some nice chats with some very friendly customers. I was even told by a very drunk 50-something-year-old man that I was the best server he had ever met. I like to believe he really meant it. But finishing work at 2am after cleaning flecks of pizza dough out of the cracks in the tables is really not my thing and I will forever more praise every staff member of every restaurant I eat at. They work hard (well, most do) and get paid poorly. Tip them handsomely, my friends.

After searching high and low for alternative sources of income and realising that my accordion playing skills just aren’t good enough for me to become a professional busker on Market Street, I was offered the opportunity to take the job a friend of mine was leaving. A fellow Aussie, Eli, had been doing a part time office job for the Co-Operative (a bit like Woolworths but with a few more morals) but was having to leave in order to further her career at the Art Gallery. I met her for lunch on a rainy Manchester day, I was feeling depressed as I had just said goodbye to my brother at the airport and I was hungry. Oh so hungry. Anyway, after I had whinged incessantly about my great dislike for my serving job, Eli suggested I replace her. And within 48 hours, I had applied for her job, been offered it and resigned from Artisan. WOOHOO!

Last Saturday night was my final shift at Artisan (finishing at a record late time of 3am Sunday morning), and I have spent almost one week in the super-shiny office building of the Co-Op. I wish I could say that my new job is more glamorous than my last, but the truth is I am one of the IT crowd. Got a problem with your computer/printer/phone? Call me. I will log the call and if I can’t fix your problems then I’ll pass it on to someone who can. While this isn’t my dream vocation and I have to wear a stupid Bluetooth headset, it is part-time from 9am-1pm, giving me adequate time to do some writing in the afternoon and it pays significantly more than minimum wage. Also the people I work with are friendly computer geeks, which is one of my favourite brands of human.

I am currently completing two weeks of full-time training (I need to stop changing jobs as they all require two weeks of training) and am slowly understanding the various different programs, systems and codes for all things IT. I am seeing that I will need to draw upon every gram of patience that resides in my body as some callers appear to barely know what a computer is, let alone where to find the off switch.

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