Another Chapter Done ...

Hey Hey, 

What a week. Could I cram any more in? Me thinks not. But I will sure as hell give it a good go this week as well. I should probably explain myself really shouldn't I?

At Lunch last Monday, discussion turned to how rough I looked leaving the Friday beforehand, all in haste with a cup under my chin to catch any vomit and a taxi-cab awaiting me I was certainly far from feeling my perky self. Still not feeling great I knew I would have to come back to work at some point, and there is only so much lolling around on the couch that one can do when ill. So there I was, in the canteen I had come to know and love. A real home from home. I had encountered my first flings with Mr. Warehouse in that room, a few near arguments with others and even a rare heart to heart with Mr. CWG. 

But now my conversations with Mr. CWG were more job related and as such were directed at a position that had become available literally across the road from our Depot in Kempston. You see, Mr. CWG drinks with the owner of the establishment in his Local in Marston Mortaine, and just so happened to mention that they were recruiting for a position similar to what I am doing now as a Service Desk Coordinator for a security and alarms company. Taking the opportunity, I called the offices and asked for some more details. Twenty-minutes or so later I had sent over my CV and by the end of the day they had asked me to come in for a chat after work. Not expecting this at all I trundled over the road after finishing work, hoping no-one from my office would notice and enquire as to where I was going. Thinking it was just a chat I hadn't braced myself for a full blown interview in the offices. I aced it, and despite my deepest apologies for being still slightly infected and wearing Black Button UGG Boots to an interview I didn't know was an interview, less than forty-eight-hours later they offered me the job. 

Dumbfounded I just stared at my screen on Wednesday afternoon, unable to speak. What had I done!? Suddenly I felt my legs become jelly and my stomach drop out of my belly. Was I about to do this? Looking through the contract they had sent over I quickly worked out that the salary would mean I would be better off by about seventy British pounds every month. "But was that enough? Was it worth it? Was it really deserving of leaving all of this behind?" I thought to myself. Immediately I called Mr. Warehouse and as soon as he answered he said what I wanted to tell him. It was like he could read my mind or something. Weirdo! However the boyfriend was less than useful when it came to discussing what I was going to do and how my options now looked. My dearest Mr. Warehouse is not one for talking things through and would have probably rather me just drop it in conversation along the lines of "So this weekend we are doing this and that weekend were somewhere else and Oh I got a new job and did you know were fresh out of Ketchup?"

Confused I called my Dad that night, hoping I might be able to get some more sense from him. Slightly better than Mr. Warehouse, my Dad was positive and I took away from our conversation that no matter how much I had been belittled, patronised and scrutinised throughout the last few months - I still had it. Although ever the realist Dad proposed the facts that I needed to really consider. What happens if I get sacked? What happens if I don't like it? What happens if I can't do it? All these things running through my head, coupled with the mere fact that seventy-quid is not a lot of money to leave a permanent job role I have been cushy in for over two-and-a-half-years I was seriously frazzled. But my early night made no impact on how I felt and whilst the morning always brings with it a new light to see something in, I was severely tired and needed to start thinking quickly about what my decision would be. 

Speaking with yet more close friends and family including Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Hackney and Miss Sugarcoat (yet another close work colleague I have yet to introduce you all too), the reoccurring subject line was that whilst the money was not great in terms of moving, seventy-pounds a month extra was still an extra seventy-pounds a month I didn't have last week and wont have next week. The thesis was that if I was unable to progress where I was in earning more money or more responsibility to be taken more seriously then it should be time to move. I had been considering it for a long while and with the current situation I found myself in I couldn't think of a better time to make the leap. 

Besides I had always said to myself there was never any point in learning to drive whilst I was at my old job, simply because affording a car and living alone, or even with someone would be a stretch if not impossible to do. I enjoyed my luxuries too much and I suppose with this new move I can not only afford the lifestyle I love so much, but also keep up with a car as well. The opportunities are endless and as Miss Sugarcoat put it herself - I am full worth the twenty-four-plus annual salary I am asking for, but it would seem a little odd to go form earning just under eighteen to another five-thousand-pounds a year in one jump. I need to make baby steps and work my way up to a salary I can not only live comfortably and happily on, but also a salary I can start to build a future on, a family and a home life. 

But on the other hand it will be ever so devastating when I do go. As I said at the top of this weeks post, its my home from home. So much has changed since I walked through those doors in April 2013. It was where I saw out my last days with Mr. Cheese (so glad you could make it, long time no see), went on to have some awful dates including Mr. Rockclimber, Mr. Krusty and countless other Mr's that didn't make the grade. Mere months into my probation period I met Mr. Warehouse and from then onwards spent many, many a dark rainy night cuddling in the canteen, away from the prying eyes of his family whom he worked alongside. Our love blossomed in those walls, out from the tea stained floors and breeze block walls came something that I now cherish so deep. Not only that but I have all my work family there and all the wonderful people that I see sometimes not for weeks or months at a time but all in the knowledge that I honestly love them all. Crazy cousins from sales, my office sharing sisters-from-other-misters, weird uncles from other divisions and even my embarrassing office Dad and Grandad. 

I will miss everyone so, so much. Miss Sugarcoat and Miss Hackney and Miss Gravy all but to name only a few. Some of whom I never spoke about on my Blog and others I am glad frankly to see the back of. My engineers whom I deal with on a daily basis, calling up and handing out jobs, asking how the wife and the kids are, sending out Birthday and Christmas cards, sending treats at Easter and Christmas also, all in which I have got to know so very, very well. Even my sales reps, who annoy the fucks out of me on an almost weekly basis, some more than others of course. Again I have wheedled my way into their lives as they have with mine, sharing in every detail of their holidays, families and moments, good and bad. All of them will be missed though, for we are a little family, a unit and a force to be reckoned with on a night out! Speaking of which ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Half Way To My Fab Fifties!

Hello Hello, 

Waiting in the reception of Cardington's Test centre it was safe to say I was anxious. Sitting there, early because I have to not because I wanted to. If I had it my way I would have turned up with enough time for a quick wee and smile at the receptionist, hoping she may influence he decision of the examiner, which of course, is silly. Moments later after I returned from the bathroom where I wished good luck to another lady also taking her test for the first time. Nervous, I watched as the examiner, a short man with an alternative look including ear tunnels and and tattoos. Calling my name I took a gulp and stepped forward. Shaking his hand I introduced myself as did he. Showing him my licence I was escorted to the car park where I was asked some questions. Getting into the drivers seat the examiner asked me to start the engine and so my test began. 

Driving down the road, stopping occasionally for manoeuvres and traffic, I felt that the first half of my test was going well. Feeling confident I continued to show my instructor exactly what I had learnt since April. However I had stalled several times, mainly for being in either the wrong gear or simply for driving far too slowly in traffic, all which added toward my final score of seven minors. Also included in that was not stopping with enough distance to the car in front whilst in traffic as well as speed, although whether it was too slow or too fast I am not so sure. 

Coming through a small village on the outskirts of Bedford I came up to a junction marked with a Give way sign. I stopped. I looked. I waited. I thought that since everywhere I looked was a red light that this might apply to me and my lane of traffic. I was wrong. I knew that after I had been sat there for a few moments. Saying out loud what I had done wrong I moved out into the direction I wanted to go, however with traffic now oncoming from the opposite direction on the crossroads I was unable to make the junction through safely. With the examiner pressing his foot on the brake gently I knew by that point I had failed. I was twelve-minutes from the test centre. Twelve-minutes. I was so close. 

Pulling into the test centre again I heard the deepness of my examiners voice and I knew even before he offered his apologies that I had unfortunately failed. Thanking my examiner I courteously got out of the car and my instructor got into the drivers seat, silent as a mouse. As I walked around the car I heard crying. Deep, tearful, hysterical crying. Was it the women that I met in the toilets? I don't know. I could hear her, but I couldn't see, and in all fairness I didn't want to look at everyone else happy at passing. 

Driving me to work my Instructor was quiet. He mentioned a few things including that it was a good drive other than my mishap at the crossroads. Honestly I think I knew it was going to happen. The odds were stacked against me and with only twenty to thirty percent of people passing first time it wasn't looking great from the outset. Nevertheless though I carried on and did my best. Besides all the best drivers pass second time right? Pulling into work, some of the lads were having a cigarette. Smiling I allowed my instructor to park the car safely to which I promised to book in more lessons after my birthday weekend and departed. Walking into reception I heard one of the lads congratulate me. The other one asked how it went and I could only shake my head in disappointment. 
"Nooo!" One of them exclaimed "It cant be true, your instructor drove you back they always do that once you have passed. Your just joshing with us?!" he continued as I explained what had happened. Heading upstairs, not as late as I was anticipating I was greeted with the usual 'hellos' and 'mornings', But as I approached my desk Miss Hackney (Originally from the area and the most 'gangsta' person I know), one of my closest work colleagues, looked at me with longing eye and a wanting gaze. I shook my head and she cuddled me as a friend would, apologetic for my lack of drivers competence. Running through everything though I was honestly OK. I didn't cry or even have a tear up. I was fine. Glad in fact, relieved it was finally over. Besides I think if I had passed first time around I would have almost certainly been a cocky and arrogant driver, ergo second time around I will be better and more skilled than before. Continuing with life though I headed home to tell Mr. Warehouse and he cuddled me as Miss Hackney had. But there was no time to be glum. After all I was turning twenty-five in a matter of days! 

Coming in the following morning I was in much of a better mood for Friday was my work birthday and Miss Hackney and Miss Gravy (She is from 'oop nooorth) had made me a big surprise on my desk. Glitter and confetti stars were everywhere. Cupcakes, party hats, nibble and treats all adorned my desk. Ten minutes later I finally have some order, but it need not matter much for it was my work birthday and it was nearly, oh so nearly the weekend. Finishing work I headed into town with Miss Hackney to meet Mr. Warehouse and pick up all the food for the party the following night, before heading home and hosting Miss Hackney for dinner. That night Mr. Warehouse and I anticipated the dramas tomorrow would bring, no real clue on what it would hold. 

The following morning was going swimmingly, that was until the therapist called and explained my spa day had to be cancelled due to not having any therapists available. Annoyed, Mr. Warehouse and I headed into town to pick up a few last minute things and start decorating the venue. Speaking to Momma Warehouse the previous evening we knew that she would be busy in the morning moving houses so left her to it as we would see her in a few short hours since she was coming to help Mr. Warehouse to cook and prepare all the food. But as half-two rolled round we still had no communication from her and it wasn't until Mr. Warehouse got a call from his older brother to inform us that in actual fact she wasn't coming, or helping with the food, or giving us a lift with the food to the venue. In a right pickle we had depended on her to help us and now what were we going to do. Making the best of a bad situation we forked out for Taxi-Cabs to bring all the food and take everything back home at the end of the night. With Mr. Warehouse racing home and busting his balls to get all the food ready I was sat in the hairdressers getting a much needed cut. 

Returning home a few hours later I cracked open the Prosecco and proceeded to get ready. Donning the same blush tonal gown I wore to the wedding in Newquay this summer I felt the part. Arriving at the venue I was pleased once all the food was laid out and it was finally time to relax with those that meant the most. As family and friend began to arrive I was delighted with the turn out, only a few guests didn't attend and I suppose they had good reasoning's. Even both side of my family turned up, my uncles from my mother and my fathers sides which, seeing them embrace each other in a way I thought I'd never see really choked me up and definatly brought a tear to my eye. I was saddened that my dearest Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb did not turn up until much later in the evening, even after a few people had left already. Looking at my clock I could see that it was gone half-eight. Where were they? Soon enough they turned up, although I could tell that they were annoyed for being late which was somewhat not their fault. Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee came as well, joining in with the drinks and the banter. 

The evening was a massive success and the food? Well I am more than disappointed to say that after all of Mr. Warehouse's hard work, there was a huge amount of food that had simply not been touched. And now I was faced with a alcohol infused choice to make. The bar man wanted to start clearing up for the end of the night and that included clearing the food. I offered him and the other staff members to help themselves and encouraged my party-goers to tuck in also but it hardly made a dent. Mr. Warehouse was refusing to take the remainder home, despite paying for a cab back home with all my presents and the like. Suffice to say I was fuming at the prospect of throwing away more than sixty-quids worth of food. I am simmering now but for sure Mr. Warehouse will be taking me our for dinner when he gets paid to make up for it. 

Heading into town after the party I partied until the wee-small hours, finally getting home at gone four-in-the-morning. I fell asleep that night with a subway sndwiched between my tits and a smile on my face. Haha, still got it! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx