Survival of the Fittest

Today, that was me! After the horrid, horrid day yesterday, I sat down and had a long think, which also has gone into today. It's clear to me I can't continue with these levels of stress and anxiety. It's really bad for me, and what's bad for me is bad for Boy. I have a clear choice, either I brush up on my coping strategies, stop taking the job so seriously, or I jack it in and find something else. Now as difficult as I sometimes find it, the job is interesting and it pays well. Doing reception in some dull office, or selling insurance is going to be 10 times worse. I may have to do that when this contract runs out, but until it does, I can continue to reap the rewards.

Part of the reason I've been finding it hard going is that I don't like doing 999 calls. I don't like unpleasant things happening ~ it just does not compute in my middle class world. Recognising this block has meant that I've been able to relax a huge amount. Today, I had 2 suicidals and 2 999s and I just took them into my stride: they didn't get to wind me up. I was really positive with the callers and I'm really pleased with the way I dealt with them, previous mistakes were not repeated.

The farce which is the BA radiation alert continues. I found an article in The Guardian which covers some of the reasons why this week has been so stressfull. I'm sure you'll understand, getting a bashing in the media when I'm dealing with 'interesting' callers, does not help.

As a result, my energy levels are up and I've actually cooked something nutritious ~ chilli time*! And I've got some laundry on the go. If I'm not careful, I might even do some college work. Tomorrow, Boy is having his sleepover party. Think of me, hiding in my bedroom, earplugs firmly attached, glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other.

*chilli means a dollop of beer for the pot, the rest for me. Unfortunately, because I'm cooking for an army which is yet to camp out on my doorstep, I've had to top the beer up with something naughty! Shhhhhh! Don't tell anyone.

Bad Hair Day

You know when your working day starts in darkness with the bus being late and ends in darkness with the bus being late, that a hug and a glass of something alcoholic is called for to help deal with the trauma of the bits in the middle. Thankfully, I got both.

To those people who perpetrated the poisoning against the Russian Spy ~ I curse you with that most ancient and dangerous of curses: may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits and genital areas. I hope it rots and drops off.

I go into work with feint hopes that all will be well. Yeah right. Three BA planes grounded, potentially 36,000 people advised by BA to get in touch with us for further information. *sigh*. The only problem was, our callers knew more about what was going on because they could watch the news and could catch the hourly updates. BA had completely forgotten to tell NHSD that they were palming off their customers onto us and guess what? We didn't know what was going on and there were no procedures to handle yet more enquiries, and no extra staff to deal with them either. And boy, were their customers a right stroppy bunch.

Tomorrow, I've got to do it all again. I keep telling myself it could be worse. I could be selling insurance.

Sunday Shenanigans

I just called it that to make you think I've been up to stuff. Sorry. I've been writing and working and now thinking about the ever-present laundry. I just might do it too.

Work was okay. Apart from the face that everyone in London seems to think they've been poisoned. Some idiot thought it would be a really good idea to bandy NHS Direct's number about on Friday. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that using NHSD as the signposting agency for public health concern is wrong, far from it. I am saying that it's been 3 weeks since the poor Russian spy got poisoned. Wait until Monday before releasing our name and number, use that time to properly decide how to best process the calls and train staff in the new procedure. Don't do it Friday, knowing that the weekend is the busiest time, don't call in extra staff, don't dither about the procedure and change it 3 times during an 8 hour shift. Piss-up and brewery, the last words I shall say on the subject.

Apart from that, I've been preparing for Boy's birthday on Tuesday. He's going to be a teenager and I'm getting a bit excited about it. I'm going to be a mother of a teenager! Speaking of which, I'd better stash the goodies before he gets back.