creativeproofreader – Rare Bit Blogging

I Quit!

7th Mar 20228th Mar 2022 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

Beautiful gratitude – a farewell bouquet

Last Wednesday saw my last shift at the local convenience shop where I’ve been working part time for over 3 years. Little did I know that what started as an interim job to support my harp business would become a lifesaver during the unexpected (understatement!) pandemic. I thought I’d be there 6 months max. Music can be a solitary career and one of the best aspects of working in food retail is human contact. There’s no better feeling than cheering someone up with a simple “good morning, how are you?” when they entered the shop on a gloomy Monday and, when the work got tough, I made that my aim. It occasionally got me in trouble as I wasn’t as efficient and I wasn’t paid to chit chat, but I couldn’t help myself. From my experience, people will always remember great customer service – I believed it would encourage them to come back for more, spend more time and money in the shop. Some customers were clearly in a hurry and in no mood for conversation so I tailored my service accordingly. I learnt a huge amount during my time there, mainly how to read people and how never to take things personally. The job helped me overcome my introversion and shyness and in many ways, as soon as I put on my burgundy and orange uniform, I stepped into character, a faster moving quicker thinking lighter brighter funnier version of me. It was knackering but I always worked a better shift with an attitude of gratitude.

I noticed I lost some of my imagination and my sense of humour since I turned 50 and I was less cheerful and happy go lucky. Life’s events were starting to get to me and I couldn’t face reading the news or keeping up with current affairs. It started to affect my performance and I became less tolerant and more impatient.

It became clear during the past 4 months that I was going to have to make a decision as things started to open up again and the enquiries for background music and harp lessons thickened. Mum wasn’t well before Christmas and her health is deteriorating as befits an 86 year old woman, so I wanted the freedom to be able to go to Wales at the drop of a hat if I was needed to support my busy sister.

It’s Monday and a week ago I was more than half way through an 8 hour shift. Everything happened so fast! Management had been extremely accommodating of my attempts to try and balance my life. I requested a sabbatical and then my circumstances changed again so I handed in my resignation. There’s the added complication of steering my way through the menopause. My experience is that it affects my mood and food along with plenty of brain fog. I have hot anger, a murderous rage which boils up uncontrollably at a breathtaking rate that took me by surprise and made me quite concerned. I’ve been taking HRT for about 5 months and I haven’t really felt any benefit. Having more time to myself now will allow me to have greater awareness and more space to manage my mood swings.

As for food, well, there must be a phenomenon around this. Being surrounded by groceries but unable to eat any became almost unbearable. Despite my best intentions there were times I couldn’t help but snatch a brown paper bag of cookies in passing the bakery section, putting it in my basket beside the yellow stickered bag of spinach and pack of courgettes after my shift, a “treat”, a “reward” for the mental torture I’d endured for the past 8 hours. I’d be fine until midday, then every pre-packed triangle sandwich became the object of my desire. I’d have eaten cheese I was so hungry, and I’d just had my break and my oats, fruit AND coffee. I had an apple and a banana in my bag but they were of no interest. I needed sugar and carbs and lots of them, and fast!

Back in the safety of my car I’d have one cookie, then another and another until the entire pack was gone in the space of 2 minutes. Did I enjoy it? I didn’t consider evaluating. It was all about pushing my feelings of frustration down.

Half a stone heavier (I can really feel this when I run), I learnt that addiction to music is a damn sight better for me than food and having resumed my practice routine yesterday, I wake up with my head full of notes again and ideas for fingerings which would improve the quality of the music. My shoulders have dropped about 10cm and today my technique is in fine working order. My students pop up into my head too, and I find myself thinking of ways I could help them with their musical challenges. I’m able to reply to enquiries quickly and draft contracts as soon as I need them. I like this fresh start, I like it a lot.

Tonight I’m going to Pilates class, I haven’t been since lockdown started. I couldn’t face going back out after a 7-15 shift in the winter months but I know how important it is to me not to self isolate now and to be around people on a regular basis. Who knows, I might join a running club and if I’m too slow, perhaps I’ll set up a speed hiking group.

Last night, I booked myself a holiday. This is a great big massive deal for me. I’ve only really stayed in chain hotels for work purposes, promising myself that I’d return to the area one day to spend some quality time. So at the end of the month I’m off to the North East for 4 nights to celebrate my new found freedom. I found a little cottage in an idyllic rural location with plenty of long hilly walks. The sea is about an hour away so I’ll spend a day there exploring Bamburgh, Alnwick, the Farne Islands, Boulmer and Craster, and I’ll drive back home along the coast, stopping in places I’ve always wanted to visit. Watch this space for some holiday blogging… And I’m already planning my foreign foray!

Thief!

18th Oct 201925th Oct 2019 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

At work on Monday, I chased a shoplifter out of the shop. The fact he’d already stuffed his jacket with steaks is irrelevant. I’d spotted him on the CCTV monitor and buzzed for the manager. Seeing him make his way towards the doors, a surge of adrenalin sent me running along the aisles beyond the safe boundaries of the shop. I grabbed him by his sleeve. Behoodied, he turned and gave me a sideways glance before running for the bridge in the town centre. What would I have done? Tackled him and pinned him to the floor? Unzipped his jacket to liberate him of his precious meat? I half expected someone to help but it was too late. He was gone, along with a share of the profits. What fuelled me to risk life and limb for a rare bit hunk of rump? Anger actually. It flared up and when he turned to look at me, I wanted to scream at him to get a f**king job like the rest of us.

When I was about 10, I stole a sweetie necklace from the petrol station. I’ll never forget it. I was racked with guilt. I clearly still am.

Life’s been less eventful than last week. My wrist feels much better (thanks for asking) and doing very little practice was a wise move. I had an extremely fruitful fayre on Sunday, restoring my faith in them as a good business investment, the pinnacle being taking a deposit on the day. There’s no better feeling after a long hard day’s work flogging my wares, trying to convince potential clients that my harp and I really are the divine heavenly perfect finishing touch missing from their big day, and why wouldn’t everyone have live music at their wedding to make their day complete? Music is, of course, the proverbial cherry on the proverbial wedding cake but not everyone feels the same way I do about music and at the end of the week I often have to dig quite deep to keep my performer/saleswoman persona going. I miss my regular practice and, with fayre season in full flow, I’m going with that. There’s a lull until November and more paid playing work coming up, thank god.

A sense of play is fundamental to my wellbeing. I liken myself to a bowling ball swaggering playfully along the hardwood alley towards the ten (Twenty? Thirty? More?) pins of my life. Striking a few of them each week is a win. Today my focus is on socialising and my creative work. The cleaning can wait. Last night involved the cooking extravaganza I’ve been promising myself and I used up a lot of the veg I’ve been hoarding, some of it rather the worse for wear, bulk purchased to be incorporated into a mouthwatering menu of exciting exotic dishes. Running out of steam by 7pm, I made a jaw poppingly hot curry. The stew recipe I want to try will stew until next week. As for baking, I’m sure I’ve got a free rainy Sunday coming up. My current obsessions are food and exercise. It’s all about balance.

To socialising then. Last week I invited an interesting customer for a coffee. On Saturday I went on an 8 mile hike with 30 complete strangers. Once past the flush of inadequacy and awkward hellos and as long as I’m not the centre of attention, I’m fine. I’m really trying. Maybe I’m trying too hard.

Looking out this morning at an exquisite sky the colour of parma violets, I’m feeling ok about this time of year which can be challenging for many of us. The nights have drawn in and daylight comes at a premium. With less playing work than I’d like and significantly fewer gigs than last year, I might need to take on some extra shifts at the shop. Most of the time I’m ok with that and I veer between excitement and fear about exploring the new possibilities ahead of me.

Every time I cross the bridge over the stream that leads me to the shop, I pause to watch the ducks. Wearing a face like thunder, I lock my creativity safely in my car for the journey home which involves ranting and singing loudly after a few minutes post shift solemn silence. I watch the rowdy antics of my funny feathered friends. I listen to their comedic cacophonous quacks, and solemnly remind myself of the alternative – motorway journeys.

Have you ever worked on a shop floor? Looks easy doesn’t it but let me tell you it’s really hard work! My concern is always my hands, swiftly followed by my head. At times, I have to stop myself from nutting some customers and I’m learning not to take things personally at work.

I’m not much of a taker but I’m a thief too. I thieve from nature. I thieve from the handful of customers that vibrate on a higher frequency and I absorb their energy to power me through my shift. I still remember the man in a pink shirt who came in on a miserable September day and radiated joy and good vibes. We need more of that. My aim at the shop is to dish that out more generously than I receive it.

M came in and as I was chatting away with him, conscientiously doing his packing, we heard a woman’s voice. I checked my mobile and it wasn’t pocket phone. Was it the voice of god? Was she a woman after all? No. I’d been propping myself up against the till and had obliviously pressed the button panic button on the safety device I have to wear around my neck. Speak to her! exclaimed the manager. Slightly freaked out after my eventful day, I did and apologised. False alarm. Oops. I always worry I’m going to get sacked for being too slow and talking to customers too lengthily. My paranoia led me to believe somehow HQ had seen I hadn’t followed the protocol I learnt way back when I did my induction. For f**k sake.

Deadlines

11th Oct 201911th Oct 2019 Rare Bit BloggingLeave a comment

And so it happened. The thing I feared most since I started my Proper Job happened. I jammed my hand between the wall and a heavy roller cage laden high with cases of beer, wine and spirits. There’s irony for you. I was heaving and hefting, huffing and puffing to get the bastard thing up the ramp into the fridges and, assisted by K, got my hand jammed just above my wrist. Time froze, as did my wrist afterwards, plunged into ice water in the canteen sink. Lightning quick thinking from K – thanks. The shock and shooting pain brought sorrowful sobs from deep down inside. Five minutes later, ice pack on wrist and dosed up with ibuprofen, I was back at the tills. With over 2 hours left of my shift, I asked if my role could be limited to lighter work, a more desirable option than going home and having to call someone in. Being busy helped keep my mind off the disaster that befell me but as soon as there was a lull in traffic, tears started pricking my eyes as I saw what’s left of my playing career wash down the drain. Don’t worry, it’s just bruised and a bit sore today but I can play a bit. I love a bit of drama me.

Proof that running makes your legs longer?

I’ve never taken my hands for granted. I’ve always been super careful but this year I’ve taken more risks. I’ve become more active physically and pushed my swimming harder, starting weekly lessons on top of my pool fitness classes in July. It’s a time saving idea, so I get a double session in twice a week which saves time fannying around in the changing room. This also gives my callouses time to recover and I think the chlorine hardens the skin on my fingers. With a very wet Autumn upon us, weather is no excuse since it’s often drier in the pool. The irresistibly addictive endorphin rush is the main reason I’m hooked on swimming, as well as running and walking. I often arrive at the baths grumpy and ridden with angst about the future. An hour and a half later I’m a hyperactive gregarious mass of energy, giggling as I bounce out of the leisure centre, whooping in my car as I drive home to get back to my work.

In September I completed my 100 miles walking and running. My friend and mentor Gareth instilled the idea in me, and getting so close in August with 87 miles in the bag, I decided I’d give it a go. No pressure as I had a lot of work to do, but the idea was niggling away in the back of my mind. Feeling a bit aimless about my career, having a target and anticipating that sense of achievement made me want to get up in the morning. So on the morning of 30 September, I notched up 100.9 miles. Think about that. I don’t think I drive 100 miles in a month these days, and that’s another story. I would have bettered my 100 but I wanted to celebrate my achievement with a flask of coffee by the res and a slow ceremonious absorbent stroll.

It was a spectacular morning and my elation was immense. I was at peace.

It’s difficult to describe Gareth Boot. He’s a bit of a chameleon. With his generous support, coaching and mentorship, I’m now almost 2 years sober and smoke free. I’m fitter than I’ve ever been and with his support, I feel equipped to face life’s challenges. If you need assistance with any aspect of your wellbeing, take a look at garethboot.com and drop him a line. He’d love to hear from you so long as you’re not an arsehole! With his lovely partner Sue, they run a company called Better 247 which focuses on all things wellbeing. Sue does a gorgeous banana cake too, amongst an ever expanding range of other delicious vegan recipes. Gareth took me on a run earlier this week and I notched up 10.34 miles. Me! It wasn’t pretty but that doesn’t matter. I did it. That’s what matters.

Since the incident at the shop, I’ve really got my head down and started to face the issues I’m avoiding around getting creative work. I can play the harp. I can write. I’m good at languages and I can cook, and clean if I must. The bigger issue is telling people about myself and getting people to hire me. My business skills are improving but I’m not a natural saleswoman. I’m aware of my talents and my weaknesses and that’s a good starting point.

What’s an introvert/extravert creative to do?