Sunlight Spiders

2011-07-28T15:07:00.001+01:00

I don't care, I don't care, I don't care

2011-07-22T16:57:00.001+01:00

Maybe they're hipster effects. The craze may pass but, for now, photos of nothing will make me happy.

For how long

2011-07-15T13:33:00.000+01:00

is "breaking news" breaking news?

Proving my point

2011-07-15T09:48:00.000+01:00

My favourite.

2011-07-14T15:48:00.000+01:00

"If you have a broad and in-depth knowledge of the EU, then we could soon be relying on you."

Broad and in-depth.

A day in the ...

2011-07-07T16:11:00.003+01:00

I wrote this just to practise my writing. I warn you now that it has no point or conclusion.

It was raining. At the first glimpse of an English Summer sun I had forgotten my coat, my umbrella, and with them, all the hard learnt lessons taught by long months of English Winter rain. I took refuge at the nearest establishment where I could take a seat and buy a drink and hoped that it would provide me with somewhere to discretely slip into my heels.

I gave myself plenty of time for the journey, including leeway for getting lost, which was just as well as that is exactly what happened when I arrived at the station and tried to follow the map that had been given to me. I tend to think that I'm good at orienteering, maps, getting around, finding my way, and all that jazz, but frankly I was doomed from the start when I realised that the street names on the map did in no way reflect the area I was in. Eventually I gave up on my girlscout impression and made use of my GPS. It still took me longer than it ought to have done, but I still had breathing room.

The Pret-a-Manger on Little Smith Street, in the heart of Westminster, proved to be a deserted enough spot to engage in the socially awkward act of removing my old Nike black trainers and shoving them in a crinkly bright orange Next bag before in turn hiding the outsized package in an old ZEW (Zentrum für Europäische Wirtschaftsforschung) canvas bag chosen specifically for the purpose of camouflaging my naivety. I hoped that the Centre for European Economic Research bag that my father brought back countless years ago would serve to somehow validate my presence at the Institute for Economic Affairs Hayek memorial lecture, this year given by Robert Barro. I hoped, knowing full well that it wouldn't, that the bag would help mask my nervousness, help me blend in, help me belong.

A bottle of sparkling water, a packet of popcorn, a copy of G2 picked up on the train, wearing an assortment of semi-formal high-street clothing, wiping my hands with a towelette – I was a mess of social messages and a lump of awkwardness -
l'intrus. I was being driven there by the same childish excitement that drew me in my youth into asking "highlighted personalities" (a few minsters, an astronomer, the country's most famous mathematician – now minster for Education, a self-made millionaire, amongst others) for their autographs – wanting to see someone known, to bask in the glow of their recognised specialised knowledge or exemplary tale of perseverance.

In the conference hall I was sure to be flanked by suits and ties, unfamiliar famous faces and names that ought to incite some reaction in me; ex-Government members, Heads of this and that, and Chief Executives of one thing or another. The certain presence of my soon to arrive, more knowledgeable and more arrogant – with this introduction I hesitate to say – friend, put me at no further ease.

2011-06-23T11:33:00.000+01:00

1: "The voting booths go here."
2: "We're not doing that anymore."
1: "Why not?"
2: "We didn't know what we were voting on."
*pause*
1: "Which outcome is more likely?"

...

Sure, because that's not what the analysts are for. Public poll predictions!

2011-06-20T15:02:00.000+01:00

*phone rings and I pick up*

Me: Good afternoon, [team name].

Woman: Who is this?

Me: [Team name]

Woman: Can I speak to Tim?

(we have no Tim)

Me: Sorry, who?

Woman (impatient): Tim. I want to speak to Tim [last name].

Me: We have no Tim here.

*woman hangs up*

2011-06-20T09:58:00.001+01:00

Boss (looking out the window): Does anyone else smell horse manure?

Person 1: I smell a sickly fruity drink.

Person 2: It's Red Bull.

Boss: Ah, yes. It smells of manure.

Person 1: I think it's the taurine.

E-mail fun

2011-06-20T09:53:00.004+01:00

Emma,

I believe [person] has already spoken to you about this, but it is simply not feasible to send a request like this and expect a response the same day, when it involves a number of officers – this has already involved 5 officers in trying to understand and respond to your request because I was not around.

I had a long conversation with [your boss] a couple of weeks ago, having already responded to a last-minute request and sent him details of our [information you requested] – set out to demonstrate the links between [first and second thing you requested]; I talked through their status and currency, I also talked through with him the issues of them being either 'stand alone [X]' or [Y] (a [Y] is not necessarily the same as a [Z]).

He did not, at that point clarify what the purpose of the work was, or whether there would be a requirement for any further input – and I am still unclear what you are trying to achieve here and why.

I am in the office this afternoon – so if you still require us to provider further information, please contact me.

[Name]

Senior Manager, [Big department]

[Big Division]

The Psychology of Revenge

2011-06-19T23:29:00.001+01:00

I agreed with this message and found it best expressed in this article. I don't want to lose it so I'm leaving it here:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/pamela-gerloff/the-psychology-of-revenge_b_856184.html

Phonecall

2011-06-09T12:21:00.001+01:00

"Hi, could I speak to [lady] please? I'm returning a phonecall from this morning"

"Speaking, how may I help?"

"My name's Emma, I'm working with the Policy team, I believe you called me this morning?"

"Ah, yes. [Line manager] gave me your line so we can arrange a pre-employment meeting. When are you due to start your placement?"

"I'm currently on my fourth week."

"Oh."

*pause*

"Oh. Well. Um. Are you starting a new placement soon?"

"Yes, I am, in a different department. But I think [Line manager] wanted me to see you about this placement."

"Oh. Well, if you could let me know when you're free to come to [workplace]…"

"I work here, so I can come round now."

"Oh. You do? Oh. Well, pop round whenever with your documents, that'd be great."

"OK, thank you. When's best for you?"

"Any time will be fine."

"Can I come round now?"

"Oh. I'm about to go to lunch now, until 1."

"Ah, ok. Shall I pop round after then?"

"That'd be great, but I have a training session for two hours at 2. So really any time before then."

Bullies

2011-06-06T14:47:00.000+01:00

"If we give in to bullies, they can rob us of our confidence and our motivation. Lately, I've worked with my children on how to not give their power away when kids assault them verbally. 'Laugh it off,' I tell them, 'even if the words hurt. Fake it if you have to; the trick is to fool them into thinking it doesn't bother you.'

Greek philosopher Epictetus may have said it best 2000 years ago, 'Any person capable of angering you becomes your master; he can anger you only when you permit yourself to be disturbed by him.'"

Source.

List

2011-06-01T11:42:00.000+01:00

1: I'd like a list, please.

2: A list?

1: Yes please.

2: How would you like the list?

1: Word will be fine, just a list.

2: OK.

--- a few days later ---

2: Would you like me to do anything else with this information as I collect it?

1: Hm. No thank you.

2: At the moment I have a list, several pages long, in Word. I mean, would you like it in Excel, or in any particular format?

1: No, thanks. That's excellent.

2: OK.

--- a few days later ---

2: Would you like a copy of the file as it stands so far? I have several hundred items in a long list in Word; I keep expecting it to suddenly be required in Excel or something. *nervous laughter*

1: Haha, no, thanks. A copy of the file would be great, thanks.

--- the next day ---

1: Hey, can we get that list in Excel please? With a row for each item.

"It's football, George"

2011-06-01T09:31:00.001+01:00

"But you're only asking the men. You haven't considered if any ladies want to play."

...enjoy your 3-a-side.

Damned Lies

2011-05-19T11:18:00.001+01:00

Yesterday:

Q: Where did the data for the 2001 BME percentage come from?
A: Ah. I made it up, probably should've mentioned.

Today:

The Guardian has provided me with some raw data which is almost impossible for me to access on IE8 (which I am restricted to) and with several dozen other people trying to access it at the same time.
To make it worse (in statistical terms), The Guardian have managed to drop their "other" columns, making levels of BME seem far higher than they are in reality. In terms of national figures they report 16.13% BME rather than 12.54%; in the case of one local authority (the only one I did the calculations for) they report 12% where the true value is 8%. Bad show.

2011-05-16T18:12:00.001+01:00

I've started work somewhere shiny and new today; my overall impression of the place was positive. I had a false-start when, pen and notebook in hand, we realised that a meeting that we'd crossed the building to attend (no mean feat, may I point out) had been cancelled a couple of weeks before. My manager was has been so overwhelmingly busy with an unenviable task that somehow this went unnoticed. A shame, as it seemed quite promising.
Since graduating my days have been full of interesting, yet somehow ultimately meaningless, events that serve mostly to pass the time, gain "quality and relevant" experience to add to an already crammed-although-uncompetitive CV, and occasionally serve to feed and house me through pitiful levels of remuneration (roughly £20 less than minimum wage per week day).
Naturally times are hard and the market is highly competitive. I don't need my degree to be able to grasp the fact that I am competing against veterans of real world employment for even the most lowly entry-level coffee-making quasi-intern vacancy from London to Nowhere-Upon-Near.
On my first day, nay, in my first hour, I was told that I was certain to be the last in the series of interns rotating through the office. Before even having my ID card I was told that chances were high that I'd be offered a job at the end of my stretch. I have yet to write so much as a memo, or a phone number on a post-it note. I enquired whether that wasn't somewhat counter-intuitive in an era of cuts, redundancies, and people having to re-apply for their own jobs to prove they're worth maintaining. I was told that no, that this is the way of doing things; you replace the old (£50k per annum) with the young (as low as you can get away with).

---

Thankfully(?) I've worked in a few places over the last few months. I say thankfully because on one hand a few places still means I've been employed, and also because having a good fan of jobs in my history allows me to tell office stories whilst making it harder for the office of origin to be determined. Naturally, anyone that was witness to the stories of inanity would recognise themselves, but would hopefully be wise enough not to broadcast their identity as that of my protagonist.
Unfortunately I did not write down enough of the amusing tales that kept me entertained over the past 18 months of employment, but I hope to change that for the future by giving myself a designated place (away from the public eye) to perhaps include in my memoirs when the events are distant enough to earn me forgiveness, the people they describe have forgotten the incidents, or are no longer living.

Make up your mind

2011-05-13T18:31:00.001+01:00

"Westham"
"West'am"
"Say: Ham. Ham. West-ham"
"Ham. Westham."
"West'am"
"Westham"
"West'am"
"Ham"
"Am, am, west-"
"Ham. Am. West'am"
"Yeah."

2011-05-09T12:51:00.000+01:00

Lost + found

2011-05-04T18:15:00.000+01:00

Big Gorgeous Camera

2011-05-04T09:38:00.000+01:00

I would like to have a big gorgeous camera; the large and expensive DSLR type cameras that take extraordinarily good shots of whatever excrement you so happen to point it at.
I would like a big bulky camera that is so large and with so powerful a zoom lense that it not only requires its own bag, but it requires its own entourage of assorted maintenance and support bits and bobs to accompany it on every journey.
I would like a big shiny camera and yet, I would not, for I fear that ownership of such an object would turn me into one of the following:
1. An amateur perpetually photographing cack, whose lack of any significant technical knowledge would serve only as an insult to the quality of the camera.
2. An amateur perpetually photographing shoes, pebbles, pretty trees, and other inane over-exposed mundanities in ways that serve only to contribute to a bland sea of crap where each piece is indistinguishable in a sea of poor replicas.
3. An amateur perpetually photographing social situations deep in the belief that if I don't have my camera I'm not having fun, and unless everyone sees the captured frames, said events never happened.

I shall content myself with the limits of my camera-phone.

2011-05-03T17:47:00.000+01:00

2011-04-18T09:23:00.000+01:00

2011-04-18T09:22:00.000+01:00

Orange chicken!

2011-03-30T21:40:00.000+01:00