*Warning. This post may include death.*
*May. I said may.*
The other day I was behind the counter in the cafe where I work, doing important things involving spoons. I find that most things that involve spoons are important, but I was being paid to do these particular things, which made them more important than usual.
It was a slow morning, after the morning coffee rush and before the first customers would come in for lunch. In fact there was only one customer, a regular, ensconced at a small table by the wall, reading a paper, drinking his americano and eating a piece of cake.
I had my back to this gentleman, because of my aforementioned engagement with the spoons. Soft cafe-type music tinkled out of the speakers overhead – but neither that, nor the clinky song of the spoons was enough to hide the noise.
Continue reading Spoons
I’m good at dropping things.
So good, in fact, that sometimes my natural dropping-things instincts kick in when I’m not even trying.
This is usually fine, except when I’m holding a thing – especially a thing that should not be dropped – like a baby.
Dropping babies is the kind of thing that can get you in trouble with babies’ parents, concerned bystanders and officers of the law – not to mention make you generally unattractive to women. I’m also informed it’s not good for the baby either – but what’s it going to do, beat me up? I’m more concerned about the women.
Continue reading Dropping Things Again
Yesterday I left the flat to go job hunting. Everybody goes about this arduous activity in different ways, but for me this involved walking down the street with my hands in my pockets, kicking a stone along, and wishing that I had a treehouse.
Every so often I would look in a shop window to see if there were any signs advertising vacancies for in-store writer wannabes, bed testers, or beer tasters – but there weren’t any.
I did a circuit of the library and the town’s two bookshops, hoping to see signs stating they needed someone to check the plots – but there weren’t of those either. My final option was the Job Centre, but that was just depressing, so I did the bookshop-library-bookshop circuit another couple of times in case a sign had gone up in the meantime.
Continue reading Doors
Where was I?
Oh yes, floristry.
I currently have no job. This is great. I fill my days with activities of a satisfyingly horizontal nature, trying not to leave the TV on a channel which might show Jeremy Kyle reruns, and working on my latest super-secret project. Life is good. Extremely frugal, but good.
I wasn’t fired from my last job – the one I hated – which is a shame because I’ve never been fired, and I think it might be quite fun… I think it would be like being in a movie where someone gets fired, and being the one who gets fired in it.
Continue reading A Poker Faced Encounter