Dreads, Fireworks and The Concept of Professionalism...

I’m now a dread-head again ! :D

Rachel came over on Friday after work and the two of us and Phil had a really cool evening of chatting, dreading, gin and cider drinking and fireworks! One of the chaps from the Crescent recently lost his brother, and apparently one of his last wishes was that his ashes be launched into the ether on the back of a rocket – and so a fantastic fireworks display was put on in the Park with all residents invited if they wanted to join him.

We watched from the windows of the living room with the lights off and the cats hidden in Jordy’s room – and what a spectacular display it was. Better even than the impressive ones from Bonfire night. Totally amazing, and lots of cheering and toasting at the end. What a way to go out! It’s exactly what I would choose when the time comes.

So yeah, once again Rachel did a wicked job and I’m really pleased. It’s different to last time, but that’s cool, it’s actually what I wanted anyway. I’ll have them in for my birthday in a few weeks and for France too – and Rachel has offered to do a quick reinstall of any loose ones for free before I go which rocks.

The sun was out and shining strong on Saturday when we wandered out of the house – it was ace. We met up with my friend Ashley who was involved in something called the Brighton Hug Patrol, which meant that myself and Phil got roped into hugging passers by! Honestly, it was a lot nicer than it sounds.

But it’s not all joy in my world at the moment, sadly. Oh, if only it were. Nope, my job has been giving me cause for lost sleep over the last month or so. It never was going to be plain sailing from the start – the job itself was so far removed from what I’d done before, in as much as I’ve never worked via the medium of French. Even going back to customer service after a year and half off the phones at the bank was going to be a bit of a shock to the system. Initially there were the problems I encountered surrounding fluency, but they’ve paled into insignificance compared to the more pressing and difficult pastoral issues I’ve encountered lately.

The main problem being professionalism, the second being trust.

As much as I hate to say it, as far as day-to-day work issues were concerned, RBS were great when it came to professionalism. By this, I mean that you felt you could discuss whatever you felt you needed to with your TM, or another if yours was unavailable. Equally, whatever you did discuss with them would be held in confidence. Also, if you went to them, before your training was complete and asked for a little help because your current training had been a little haphazard and you felt that you were making mistakes that could easily be avoided – well, they took that matter seriously and didn’t make you feel stupid.

Nope. It definitely wasn’t like that in my last job.

Anyway.

It’s still a job, and given the lack of decent jobs on the market and the fact that I refuse to let it destroy me – I’m sticking it out and getting on with it. It’s a steep learning curve but not one that is beyond me.