Work Stories – Wage Slaves?

This new job is like a prison.

It entraps you, cages you, expects certain aspects of discipline and timekeeping.

It enforces a dress code, smart trousers and a shirt for men or a dress or trousers and blouse for women.

No jeans allowed.

Or so they say.

I’m wearing jeans, smart dark blue ones with a Ted Baker shirt and tan boots.

It’s how I roll and fuck them if they want me to change.

The place is empty until just before 9am and has a Le Mans start at 5pm with people already having been to the loo, washed their cups, packed their laptop and cleared their desks waiting for the clock to tick-tick onto the hour.

I’ve never seen a place empty so quickly, Well not since my shipyard days when there wasn’t any overtime on the go.

Certainly not in an office setting.

It’s pointless waiting on the lifts at 5pm as the upper floors fill them. I’m on the 5th and the executives are on the 11th. Somewhere in between the lifts are packed. It’s the stairs for me.

Gets the steps up anyway!

Continue reading “Work Stories – Wage Slaves?”

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Flying The Nest?

2 down, 1 to go!

Well it’s finally happened, My kids are all growing up and leaving me to start life’s of their own.

Laura 28 left first, just over a year ago, buying a house with her partner. She called me last night to tell me they are getting married next year. I’m delighted for them both.

Steven 30 leaves this weekend, moving into rented accommodation with his partner. They’ll be buying soon but giving it a try first

Both of these were expected.

What wasn’t expected is that my munchkin Claire 21 would be moving out so soon.

She recently graduated from Strathclyde with a first class honours degree. I’m very proud of her. Even more so that she has her first job working for a major bank on an amazing starting salary.

A salary that many of my own extended family couldn’t hope to earn despite working for many years.

There’s the proof that education and guidance makes the difference to people’s starts in life.

What wasn’t expected is that she’d be leaving home so soon and moving south to their headquarters.

Coincidentally her boyfriend lives in the same city.

What’s the chances eh??!!

I’m pleased for her but can’t help feeling a bit sad.

This place we live isn’t just a house, it’s home.

Soon I’ll be rattling around in it on my own.

The thought of downsizing crossed my mind, maybe renting it out and using the money to see the world.

But truth be told I’ve seen as much as I want to see with the exception of New York, Vegas, Washington DC and the California coast

I’ve no desire to backpack across Vietnam or experience food poisoning or malaria in less civilised parts of the world.

So what next?

I’ve no idea really, keep working, no mortgage to pay so just enjoy life.

Truth be told, I think it’s time I found a new partner and settled down.

Life’s too short and too precious to live it on your own.

2am on Monday morning. This new job comes with bank holidays.

But if truth be told I’m not convinced if being staff rather than self employed is for me.

Especially with a daughter getting married next year!

It’s going to be costly. 🙂

A Gun At My Head?

It’s been a big year, many changes occurring but nothing too bad or irrecoverable.

2 days at court with the legalities of finally reaching a settlement with my former partner.

She took the stand and laid it on thick. But she lied and I could prove she lied.

At lunch on the second day after I’d shown the evidence they wanted to talk and we settled out of court.

Yep I took a hit, not as bad as it could’ve been after already giving her a 6 figure settlement but she was holding a gun to my head and it was worth taking the hit to keep the house.

Who gifts 6 figures? Seriously?

Not even the judge believed that.

It was my own fault, blindly trusting someone with my hard earned cash, giving them a loan to help them move on, only for it be used against me as a bargaining chip.

I should have got the legal steps in place at the time. My bad.

I made the mistake of treating people the way I expect to be treated. My word is my bond. If I make a promise then that promise will be kept.

It’s a done deal and life goes on.

The gun is no longer at my head. The mortgage has been paid off. There’s still money in the bank.

Life is good.

Now that the stress has been removed it’s time to have some fun!!

Back on the Train Gang!

A new day, a new chapter. No more working in Livingston with a 3 hour daily commute.

I’m back working in central Glasgow … Yay!!

Back to that horrible ugly city I love so well.

Horrible? Ugly?

Well by comparison with Rome, Florence, Barcelona etc.

But I guess even those cities have their dark seedy sides.

That’s not to say that Glasgow doesn’t have its beauty, of course it does.

The Kelvingrove art galleries, Peoples Palace, Gallery of Modern Art, Burrell Collection, House for an Art Lover, Science Museum, Transport Museum.

But enough of the culture!

Glasgow is a people city, great shopping streets full of bars and restaurants. Many many music venues including 3 large arenas, the Hydro, Exhibition Centre and Clyde Auditorium within stepping distance of each other.

Then there’s the football. Celtic Park, Ibrox and Hampden.

Glasgow is also the gateway to the beautiful Loch Lomond and the highlands.

So it might not be the prettiest city .. but what’s not to love?

It’s like going out with a fat girl she might not be the best looking but she has inner beauty and nice tits! 🙂

Anyway, I’m back on the train, a 10 minutes train ride to the city centre and back writing again.

Work, Rain, Home, Again?

img_8734

Work, work, work …
Rain, rain, rain  ….
Home, home, home …
Again, again, again …
I’ve not been doing much writing recently … kinda missing it.

Working too hard, long hours, long commute, tired all the time and too many other things to do.

This job .. which I quite enjoy at a technical level.. is sucking the life out of me.

I’ve always been a bit healthily disdainful towards my work,    I work for a living, not the other way around.

But that no longer seems to be possible in the world we live in. Where we used to have a knowledge gap and those with that knowledge were in demand and could command the bigger bucks, has been replaced by a culture where businesses can pull in that knowledge from other parts of the world on demand without considering the longer term consequences.

If younger generations don’t get the opportunity or the infrastructure or health system can’t support the influx then it’s not their problem.

That’s a general trend, but it’s this place, the Dickensian working practices, 8 hour days not including the mandatory hour for lunch, the 2-3 hour commute.

The day just seems so long .. Every day seems so long .. Tired .. Driving in rain and dark skies and not seeing the sunshine.

I need a holiday.

I need a change.

Like an alcoholic or some other behaviour addict .. the first step to making that change is to realise that you have a change to make.

It’s important to remember that even when it doesn’t seem possible, we always have a choice.

Now if I can only be arsed updating that CV and getting it out there.

The lyrics above are from Town to Be Blamed by Deacon Blue from their Raintown album, a personal favourite album and legendary around these parts with its image of Glasgow on the cover just at a time when dark, grey, stormy Glasgow put on some new clothes to become the European City Of Culture.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raintown_(album)

This is Not the Champions League. #UEFA

UEFA

Celtic are back in action tonight,  the second-leg of the first of four qualifying rounds to get to the UEFA Champions’ League Group Stages.

We are already 3-0 up from the first leg against Alashkert of Armenia and tonight should be a formality.

How skewed are UEFA in the decision making of their qualifying process that whoever wins between Scotland and Armenia’s champions are playing 8 games to qualify in the group stages when there are 26 direct entries to the group stages including 4 from England, 4 from Spain and 4 from Italy,  3 from Germany and 3 from France.

This is not a whinge saying that the above is not fair.    If that’s how UEFA want to play the game then that’s up to them.

What am I saying is that this is no longer the “Champions” league and should be renamed accordingly.

Tonight,  the walk from Dalmarnock train station along the wide thoroughfare of the Clyde Gateway with the stadium looking magnificent in the distance always brings pride in my heart and a smile on my face.

Mon the hoops.

He Ain’t Heavy ..

Bert Hardy exhibiton

There he was, lying sleeping, or so I thought.

A private ward on the 11th floor of the new Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Glasgow, fantastic views out the window looking north to the Campsie Hills then Ben Lomond and the Arrochar Alps beyond.

Not that he was in any state to admire the vista, he had more important priorities having just came through a kidney removal.

His wife and daughter had already been and gone, leaving him resting, recovering from the effects of the anaesthetic.

I waited outside the room, I didn’t want to go in, wake him or even chat to him. It didn’t seem appropriate.    I just wanted to see him.

I just wanted to know that he was alive and well and that he was on the way back and over the trauma of the operation.

I can see him through the glass of the door, head back, propped up on pillows, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

That was enough for me, maybe a quick chat with his nurse and get his status, then head for home.

At that she appeared, Nurse Aboui, small, slim, black as the ace of spades, afro hair and a dazzling smile as she offers her greeting. Continue reading “He Ain’t Heavy ..”