URGENT!

What does the word URGENT mean to you?

To me it means some thing that requires a rapid response and quick solution.


Once again I find myself frustrated by the behaviour of others. I know I can not control the actions of others, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to shout, ‘Come on, get your act together!’

Over three weeks ago (in August) my CV was submitted for a job and then two days later I was asked to provide more detailed information about a particular time period. The advert said the person selected was required to start ASAP as it was an urgent requirement.

I’m still waiting to receive any further feedback on my CV or be asked to attend an interview.

I am going through an agent and I have followed up a couple of times. Today I was told it can take up to four week to receive feedback.

I would like to clarify my understanding of the word is correct and it is:  Dictionary.com defines the adjective, urgent, in three ways, but the most relevant one to this is use is;  'compelling or requiring immediate action or attention; imperative; pressing: an urgent matter.'


Considering the nature of the business that I have applied for; it worries me that urgent doesn’t seem to mean to them what it means to everyone else in the world.

If I had an emergency and I called these people for assistance, I would expect a rapid response, as would anyone else calling them. It’s likely that I would get one too; depending on want other emergency situations there were happening at the same time as mine.

Clearly filling the civilian roles they have advertised have now fallen from the top of the to-do-list due to drive by shootings, robberies, traffic control and kittens stuck up trees.

I understand these things are important, but it’s either urgent or its not?

Please say what you mean and mean what you say.

Picture borrowed from here, I had nothing to do with creating it!

Bumbershoot

I don’t mind the rain in Australia, because it is rarely accompanied with a biting wind.  We’ve had a very wet Summer and it looks set to continue.  We have had a few sunny days, but they have been extremely humid due to the amount of moisture in the ground.

Monday was a good example of such a day.  31 degree in the city with 92% humidity.  It was like wading through soup, if wading through soup meant it would be difficult to breath, your skin would feel clammy and you smells really bad at the end of the day.

Tuesday brought with it, a shift in the winds, from North Westerly’s to south easterly, bringing a cool change.  It’s been less than 20 degree for the last couple of days, with persistent rain, but it isn’t, by any means cold.

When it not cold, I try to avoid wearing a coat.  It makes me feel hot.  So to avoid getting wet I  stick close to building and under canopies where I can.  Unfortunately, others of the human species do not share my desire to have one less thing to carry.

And the umbrellas come out in force.

All shapes, sizes, colours and states of repair.

Today, I saw a woman walking along under two thirds of a brolly.  It was basically three metal spikes and a tiny piece of fabric clinging for dear life to the remaining three disguised spikes.  It couldn’t have just happened, because it isn’t windy and the rain is coming down straight.  How long had it been getting to this stage.  Surely a few well place stitches and it would be as good as new?

One woman of extremely small stature had an umbrella as wide as she was tall.  She was wielding it like a weapon.  She had it resting on her left shoulder and as she walked the pedestrians parted like the Red Sea.  They had no choice.  At one point she was waiting for the traffic lights to change, she turned to look at the oncoming cars, as she turned (not just her head) the massive awning swung with her and pushed another lady into the road from behind.  It just swept her up.  The owner was completely oblivious.

I’m not a huge fan of umbrellas.  When they were small fashion accessories, called parasols, that a lady took to picnics in the park and to the races to protect their delicate English skin from the sun and the inappropriate advances of gentleman.  They had an elegance and grace about them.  There were used when stationery, when leisurely walking with a suitor they would be space around, Ladies never hurry anywhere.

Now, in an age where people rarely give consideration to their fellow man or woman and are nearly always in a rush, they are yet another peril to watch out for.

Littering

I picked up an empty can, off the street, the other day after seeing three people kick it. It was crumpled and torn and only a few feet away from a rubbish bin. It seemed the sensible thing to do although one woman was heard to exclaim, ‘Eww...that’s dirty!’

It brought to mind two recent interactions.

The first was with a snooty lady in a dog park. I was there with Cara and Millie. Cara being the massive trouble maker that she is was off the lead and following behind Millie, who was on lead, and I. About half way across the pack I noticed that Cara had stopped to go to the loo, so I slowed my pace but kept walking, with the intention of cleaning it up once she was done. A large woman was walking towards me, smoking a cigarette but without a dog, and as she got closer, she inhaled deeply and asked in a very terse tone, ‘Are you aware that your dog is doing a poop?’ Yes, I kid you not, she used the word ‘poop’.

‘Yes, I am’.

‘Are. You. Going. To. Clean. It. Up?’

‘Yes, I am’. I nodded and smiled as I spoke.

‘Then why aren’t you watching?’ Another massive inhale saw a third of the cigarette length turn to ash.

‘Do you like to be watched while you have a poo?’ It seemed a fair question, I know I don’t and I know Cara doesn’t. She gets performance anxiety and tries to walk away from it. It doesn’t work and you end up with a trail of bunny balls. Millie didn’t care who watched, she was quite proud of the massive piles she produced.

The woman took exception at my question, and huffed and puffed away from me, her arms beating the air, no doubt imagining it was me. Then she threw her cigarette butt to the ground before stomping on it. I pulled a small blue bag from my pocket and scooped up the tiny dropping Cara had deposited.

She didn’t hear my say. ‘Are you going to pick up that piece of litter that can take up to ten years to break down, whereas this tiny poo will be gone in about three days if I left it?’.

The second conversation was with the fruit seller guy outside my office in the city. I don’t know how we got away from bruised cherries, and how to squeeze peaches in just the right way, to rubbish, but he said to me, ‘if every person picked up just one piece of litter a day, can you imagine how quickly the streets would be clear?’

I’m not completely innocent of dropping litter, but I will say that I try never to drop something that will not decompose or been take by nature. I had it drummed into me by Muv from a very young age, Don’t litter. I’ll happily chuck an apple core into the bushes, although I mostly eat them down to the woody bit anyway. I’ll pour excess fluid onto the grass or into the gutter and I had no hesitation throwing New Moon out of the car window (it’s paper, it’ll mulch, it’s half-way there already), but plastics go in the pocket or bag until I find a bin. I’ll often turn down bags when shopping, which confuses check-out folks, because putting items in a bag is part of the training.

There have been anti-littering campaigns, signs and fines all around the world for decades. No matter what the powers that be do or say, people are essentially a lazy bunch that expects someone else to clean up after them; ever been in a cinema or theatre after the performance has ended, a sports arena at the end of the game, a picnic ground at the end of the day? Take that packet, drinks carton, pie case and pop it in the bin on the way out. At the very least put it next to the bin as I saw happening after a Rugby Tri Nations game in South Africa. The bins were full, so rather than leaving bottles on walls, by flag poles, smashed on the ground, etc., they made it easy to clean up by gathering it all in one place. Of course, they could have as easily taken it home.

Please don’t litter, but don’t judge those who you think are, you may just find you’re just as guilty in their eyes. Littering is a dirty issue and only we can fix it by taking our rubbish home with us.


An example of littering in Lagos, Nigeria

Moral Compass

There have been a few items in the news recently that have got me thinking about my own level morality.

I like to believe that I was dragged up by the scuff with quite a high moral grounding. My Muv and Dad instilled in my brother and sisters a belief that lying was bad, stealing was wrong because you have to earn the things you have and being a pyromaniac, while it fun to watch flames licking around logs in the fireplace, it’s not good burn things that aren’t in the hearth.

We were also taught to respect your elders, even if they are being a git. Smile and move on.

Don’t put your feet on seats, in public or your own home, you don’t know what you’ve stepped in. I never really understood this one, I got the public part, but I was pretty sure I didn’t have mud (or dog poop) between my toes. So I often engage in feet on sofa heresy, but never with shoes on.

***

I recently read that with the hike in banana prices in Australia, people using the self serve check out are putting bananas through for the price of carrots, or whatever is seasonally cheaper than $17 per kilogram. The question the press was asking was, is this stealing?

I say a resounding yes. It is stealing.

But when surveyed, the general public leaned more towards no, it’s not. The reasoning was that they had been paid for, even if not the full price, therefore it was OK. Before I read about the banana switch, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I could just press a different button in the check out. Even now it has been planted in my mind, I find the idea deplorable. I know that big business will bear the brunt of the theft, but do I know what other the consequences are?

Will the check out chick who’s supposed to ensure the self serve checkouts aren’t abused retain her position, if not job? Will prices elsewhere in the store rise? Will the banana farmer be screwed down on price? Will the truck driver who delivers them to the store be expected to drive that little bit quicker to ensure timely delivery…did I suddenly get into the Butterfly Effect?

My point here, is: I don’t do it, because it never occurred to me in the first place, but when I think about it, it makes my brain hurt.

***

Meanwhile, in the UK, scumbags where rioting in towns across the small island. One victim was Aaron Biber, no relation to Justin. The 89 year old barber survived the Second World War only to see his shop ransacked by looters, just for the hell of it. He didn’t have anything of value to steal, no plasma telly on the wall, no expensive hair product and even his scissors and certainly his door curtain, would have been older than most of the vandals.

Why would people do this. To me, and most of my peers, it’s unfathomable. We simply cannot comprehend the idea of trashing a place just because.

Don’t get me wrong, I have felt the rush that illegal activity gives you, but I’m a firm believer of ‘Make love, not war’. ;-)

It’s a thrill, but running through the streets setting fire to things, stealing things, smashing, just to smash and worse, running someone over that was trying to protect their property, leaves me scratching my head in a way that could leave scars.

Where these people not taught basic morality in their formative years? Video of a boy being helped with the right hand and being robbed with the left hand makes me think not.

Can we blame politics for taking away the rights of parents to give their kids a good clip round the ear? I had many, and worse, and it never did me any harm.

I know several people that have been too afraid to speak up in adverse situations for fear of harm. Instead, they have put their head down and kept quiet, unnoticed.

Are adults now being bullied by children in a passive aggressive way? Sometimes that’s how I feel. I have been on trains where teenagers in a group have had their feet on the seats, I desperately what to tell them to put their feet on the floor, but simple eye contact has lead me to think that I would be smacked or verbally abused if I dare to say something. Isn’t that bullying? We’re too sacred to stand up and say, enough is enough.

In the UK, they have. We used to complain about CCTV camera popping up all over the place like mushrooms. ‘It’s an invasion of privacy,’ was a common cry. Now they are being praised.

People are taking up brooms to battle and clean. It’s fabulous. In some ways I wish I was on the tiny island right now.

From a few nights of bedlam a mighty uprising of good has occurred. I hope this continues. People of all nations coming together to improve relations and the moral fabric of society.

I would never dream of saying my moral compass faces a firm North, but I do believe in thinking about my actions and the outcomes before I do them. I hope we can all learn a lesson for the last few weeks, think about the outcome of your actions. You’ll be surprised how often you cease to do what you were about the do.

Thank you to the following for the images:
Compass
Aaron Biber (this is a good story too)

The Bearer of Bad News

Once upon a time bad news was spread by hand written letter. I meant that you may have had to wait but you heard that your loved one in the next village, town or city had fallen to unfortunate circumstance.

Not too long ago, the phone would have rung and you would have received news of this nature from a familiar voice. A comforting aunt, brother or other sundry person may have been the bearer of tragic news within hours of the occurrence.

These days (and I’m not bagging the internet because I generally love it) Tweets, Facebook, texts and emails can be composed sat at hospital bedsides, so bad news, as well as good, can be spread about the world by means of a hastily composed, emotionless short message.

I have been on the receiving end of such messages, in the past and more recently.

Harry’s Dead :(
J is in hospital after a series of strokes and is unlikely to walk again.
N has had a testicle removed due to cancer, about to start chemo.

Why do people think it’s acceptable to send this type of news by such a detached means of communication?

Or do they do it, because it is detached and they don’t have to get into a discussion that may tug the heart strings?

Or, is it simply that people have lost the art of communication. Faceless notes without passion have replaced the lost art of the letter. Quick status updates and Tweets have replaced phone conversations.

I know with the spreading of families across the world timezones can cause a problem, but really is that an excuse not to make a phone call, or to wait weeks before sharing bad news?

I feel like we have become reliant on technology to share our bad news to avoid the heart ache and pain that come from giving bad news, but we often fail to consider the reactions and feeling of the person reading the message.

Climbing of the washing powder box now.

Monopoly

There are a few things that raise my blood pressure (beyond the medical condition that causes that), cruelty to animals, selfishness and having to use services that are terrible.

If you don’t like Microsoft, you can use Apple or even open source. If a plumber does a bad job you can use another one next time, if your carpenter turns up without a hammer...well you get the gist.

This is not the case with the Post Office. You have no choice. So they can get away with pretty much anything. Frequently they do.

I was home sick today, so I was home. You can imagine my surprise when I walked through the hall and noticed a shadow on the door. It was a delivery card stuffed into the screen door. I’d been in all day, so how come there was a card? I have a perfectly functioning door bell.

I decided to call to find out if the parcel was back at my local PO before walking down there. I rang the 131318 number on the card. Dial one for this, dial two for that and three for all other enquiries. Two.

Then. Dial one for this, dial two for that and three for something else and four for other things. If you wish to speak with an operator press zero. Zero.

A little bit of hold music followed by, ‘All of our operators are busy at the moment. If you would like to receive a call back from one of our expert customer service team, hold on the line for the next available call back time. The next available call back is at 1.30pm tomorrow. Press one to receive the call back.’

If you don’t press one you hear, ‘thank you, please call back later in the day’. Then the line drops. No option to hold. Just go through the automated phone system over and over again until you truly understand the meaning of the term ‘going postal’.

I went through this process five times before I decided to take a walk to the local Post Office.

It was two thirty. I stood in a queue of poorly dressed locals and undisciplined children for 25 minutes. While I stood there like a lemon and marvelled at the rubbish they sell from the buckets and shelves that line the wait area, plastic torches, car seat organisers and large format versions of Mr Angry (I love it when irony is unintentional). Upon getting to the counter I was told that the truck hadn’t returned yet and I had to come back later.

I wanted my parcel, so I had no choice. I went back later as instructed and queued again for another 30 minutes.

I got my parcel after nearly an hour and half of my day devoted to it, when I was in at the original attempted delivery time. I’ve never liked the Post Office. I’m one of those people that bulks buys stamps to minimise my exposure to the place. If I could use another company for my daily mail needs, I would. Only I don’t have a choice and neither does anyone else, so they can treat you as poorly as can be with little care and they get away with it. Everytime!

Plus, they’re closed on Saturdays, what’s that all about?

Crepuscular Light

A few years ago I read ‘The DaVinci Code’ by Dan Brown. I followed it with ’Angels and Demons’. I enjoyed them both for what they were, adventure novels that kept you turning the page because of a good fast paced story. Our hero moved across continents, religion got a bashing, people died or were badly injured, but in the end the good guy came out on top. When during Uni classes these books where held up as bad examples of writing I would always jump to their defence with the argument that they have got people reading. Surely, I’d follow up with, any reading is good reading?

In May last year I was readying myself for a trip back to the UK for an extended period. I needed reading material. A visit to my local bookstore saw me purchasing the first three of the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. I liked the look of the covers and the blurb had me sold. I like a good vampire yarn.

I read the first book and got a tad irritated with being told Edward was amazing, Edward is luminous and Edward is gorgeous. I wanted to slap Bella for being such a big girl’s blouse. I did however make it to the end of the first book even though I wished it would hurry up and get on with the story already. I wasn’t in a hurry to know what happened next though. There was a four month gap before I started reading the second book at Christmas. Just after the Twilight movie came out.

I saw the movie in the cinema and found myself thinking, ‘where’s the fast forward button?’

I only made it half way through the second book and came perilously close to throwing it out of the window during my Christmas road trip. I knew what was coming, it had been hinted at so many times, but the author never seemed to want to tell us anything for sure. Was Jacob a werewolf? Of course he is, so why not just bloody tell us, it’s not like we can’t work it out for ourselves by page 10.

A friend of mine borrowed the books from me and loved it. She said it was like a soap opera, she had to know what came next and as such kept turning the pages.

I don’t watch soap operas. I don’t watch Eastenders, Neighbours or Days of our Lives. Maybe this is why the slow pace annoyed me so much. I don’t want to wait six weeks to see the main characters have their first kiss. The duh duh duh music at the end of an episode rarely leaves me on the edge of my seat. I like them to just get on with it, if it’s going to happen. Sexual tension and threats are all well and good, but if you know it’s never gonna happen, what the point in having it there in the first place?

Maybe if I was 16, as I believe is the intended audience age for these books, I would have persevered. Maybe if I needed a lesson in abstinence and the consequences of loose living (as I believe are revealed in book four) I would have enjoyed them more. As it is, I see people (both men and women) on the train, heads buried in book three or four and feel like giving them a round of applause for making it so far.

I now see where my fellow students were coming from. It’s not a case of any reading is good reading. Only good reading is good reading. Bad reading only dims the lights further.

When did manners and courtesy disappear?

Was it with woman’s lib? Meaning men no longer give up their seat for a woman wearing heels?

Why don’t people say ‘excuse me’ anymore and instead stare at the back of your head expecting you to know they want to move instinctively?

Why is it that an train aisle full of standing people doesn’t inspire someone to move their handbag and feet off the seat next to them?

When did a queue become just a way of standing before turning into an all out bun fight to get through a door?

Why did I have to ask to sit down, when I was on crutches?

Why, when paying for an item, does the next person feel compelled to stand so close to you, you can feel their breath?

In a world where personal space is becoming more and more precious, I say we need, more than ever to regain some of the basic manners and courtesy with which we are furnished as children. Of course, in saying this I am assuming that manners are actually taught to everyone. Based on the evidence from public transport, public events and your average shopping centre, I reckon it’s a subject that needs to be put on the school curriculum.

News Smooze

I’m not generally a big reader of the news. I find it fires my blood and makes me angry, so I avoid it. I don’t buy newspapers except to read book reviews and I’ve stopped that with a subscription to ABR. Unfortunately using Yahoo! for my mail means I get news in front of me everyday. I try to avoid clicking on the teasing little titbits but I’m not always successful.

I find news reporting seems to be about sensationalising what little is happening. OK, so there have been a few things happening in Australia recently; the policeman who found his own son at the scene of a car accident, the body in the suitcase, the election and the mother to be miscarrying her baby while waiting to be seen. All of these things suck, big time, but the reason I mention them is because everyone else seems to being blamed for these tragedies.

The father was blamed for his seventeen year old son driving with too many passengers and after curfew. DOCS (Dept of Community Services) were blamed for allowing a mother to kill her son before stuffing him in a suitcase and throwing it in a duck pond. Doctors and nurses have been blamed and well, we can blame democracy for the elections, I’m sure the press will.

Now, today I read about a guy in Russia who has just been convicted of killing more than fifty people by luring them to drink vodka with him, then getting them drunk before beating them to death. He has shown no remorse and has even said that his first kill was like falling love.

Who are the press going to blame for that one; the vodka company?

Geeks and Nerds Rock!

This morning Edna sent me a link and asked;

How many do you fancy? And be honest! ;-)

My response was six, with one of them being a girl. But I was horrified that Tom Cruise is now being listed in Geek halls of fame. How can they lower the standard so much.

Tom Cruise never has and will never be a geek or a nerd. He is and will only ever be an actor that happened to have an amazing scene in a reasonably good movie a long time ago and only ever plays Tom Cruise. He just happens to be ‘good looking’ (if you’re into that kinda thing) with the charisma of a snake (although I think that’s being unkind to snakes)

I shall step off my soapbox now and give you my list of six;

David Tennent
Louis Theroux
Daniel Radcliff (although not that picture, it’s not good)
Alyson Hannigan
Jack Black
Paul Rudd
Finally, I ask you the same question Edna asked me. How many do you fancy and who?

4WD

How good is this entry about 4WD's in suburban Sydney?
Personally I love it so much I had to comment.

The Dangers of Email

I remember in the dark ages before email existed. People had to telephone each other at either the office or at home, ‘cause in the days before there was no mobile phone either. Or a letter had to be written and faxed or mailed with a stamp. Of course computers had been invented but they were as big as a small car and printers had their own rooms.

What with those days only being a few short years ago (I have to protect my age, you know ;-) it’s understandable that people are still making mistakes when writing email. Although I don’t think anyone under the age of 30 has any excuses after all they’ve at least always had access to email at work (office based jobs of course).

Over the last few months I have been victim (yes, victim is the right word to use) of carelessly or hastily written emails. I even wrote about it in last Editors message in the Alpaca magazine. So, after receiving another one of these ill-considered emails only this week, I thought I would share my thoughts on email etiquette with you, my readers.

Before you press the send button;
1. Re-read it and think to yourself – if I received this would I be upset/offended/angry?
2. On work related email think to yourself – Is this constructive feedback, have I given a solution to what I’ve criticised/said I don’t like?
3. On email where you are being sarcastic, think to yourself – Is it clear I’m being sarcastic by the libel sprinkling of smiles? ( I know I guilty of this one on occasion).
4. On an email where you use acronyms, swear words or anything else that may be considered ‘dodgy’ think – Is this appropriate?
5. Check if you’ve used UPPERCASE, be aware that you’re shouting, do you need to be shouting?

If you go by all of this and it still doesn’t feel right (and I may have missed something, please feel free to comment) get someone else to read it before you press the send button.

I always think about it as if I’m writing a letter (unless it’s someone I know really well and it’s a one liner). Address the reader (Dear, To, Hi, Hey! etc.), the body of the email/letter (broken into paragraphs is required) and a sign off (regards, sincerely, bye, etc.).

Of course, I by no means get emails right all the time, but I do make the effort each and every time I write one. If I make a mistake I like to think I’m big enough to admit it and move on.

And by the way, here’s a few smiles you may encounter if you ever get email from me and you may like to brush up;

:-) – A smile

;-) – A wink (cheeky)

:-D – A wide grin (I’m really happy)

and finally…

A kiss - :-*