Wednesday's Child

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Posts tagged life

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One extremely weird thing about my whole hating-to-be-at-preschool schtick is that it was probably one of the most important decisions I ever made in my life.

Because one of the two mothers I mentioned - the one whose son kept trying to run away - was a journalist like my parents, and when I was seventeen and considering a career as a journalist, she acted as a mentor to me and advised me about how to contact editors when I had ideas about articles and how to get work experience and so on. And, by a weird coincidence, about a year after I’d got a regular freelance gig at one paper, the section editor who dealt with my material retired and this woman was promoted to the job, so she ended up being my editor.

Even though I ultimately chose not to pursue a journalistic career (after an abortive, hellish year working as a subeditor and fleeing for the - insert bitter laughter here - more forgiving arms of academia) she continued to act as an informal mentor as well as a sort of sixth aunt.

And all because I hated being at preschool.

Filed under the series of events set of by apparently minor choices or actions can be really scary when you look back at them life also my own mother reciprocated and has been an informal mentor to this woman's two daughters who both work in journalism australiana nostalgia 2007 and all that the via dolorosa of course i mean off not of in the first tag

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One of my friends was posting about how cheerful and easygoing her son seems to be at childcare, and that reminded me that apparently I was the clingiest, most-unwilling-to-be-left-at-childcare toddler ever.

To the extent that my mother’s closest two friends are other mothers she bonded with at my preschool for the sole reason that their kids were the ones who hated to be there.

(One of the boys carried a toy platypus around the whole time, looking miserable. I was afraid of all the other kids and would only talk to the mothers who took it in turns to have morning tea at the preschool, and the other boy spent every lunchtime - when we were supposed to play outside - trying to climb over the front gate and run away home. He actually managed it several times. Oh man, we really hated preschool.)

Filed under life australiana nostalgia i got over it after the first term apparently one of those boys now owns his own car mechanic business and the other works in it in new zealand the via dolorosa

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I have literally been sitting here refreshing my dash for an hour in the hope of finding something to reblog so that I could have a round (i.e. ending in a five or zero) number of posts and thus go to bed.

And then it occurred to me that I could make an inane text post about it AND ACHIEVE THE SAME OUTCOME.

Filed under i am really weird about this sort of thing life ronni whines in text posts this is genuinely something that was stopping me from sleeping my brain is a terrifying place the via dolorosa

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So, I’ve just stuffed a chicken with tarragon, thyme, whole cloves of garlic and a whole lemon, rubbed it in butter, salt and pepper and stuck the whole thing in the oven on a tray filled with white wine.

I have chopped sweet potatoes and potatoes, red capsicum and red onion and they will be joining the chicken in the oven very soon.

I love having time to cook like this.

Filed under life food meat the whole thing would be perfect followed by a blackberry pie or something but unfortunately the ancient words of house dolorosa are WE DO NOT BAKE so yeah the via dolorosa

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When you are an affluent-seeming white man and you ask for things that don’t belong to you, sometimes you’re not really asking. It’s sort like Bill Clinton asking Monica Lewinsky to have sex with him. There’s a context behind the asking.

When you ask a serviceperson for something that doesn’t belong to you, there is often a subtext of, “If I complain to your manager, you know your manager is going to listen to me. Just look at me, and look at you.”

And sometimes, of course, this is not the case at all, and you’re just being a garden-variety annoying customer. Or a bully.

If you seem to be “getting everything you want,” you should probably examine whether you’re getting it at someone’s expense, or whether you’re just constantly, in small ways, making the world worse.

Jen Dziura, When “Life Hacking” Is Really White Privilege (via shitrichcollegekidssay)

One thing I really appreciated about my last retail job (a bakery in a very wealthy part of Sydney) was that the owner almost invariably took the side of his workers and not the customers. He frequently told rude customers never to come back to his shop if he felt they’d been disrespectful towards the staff. As far as I can tell, this had no discernible effect on the success of the business - other than making his workers feel more of a stake in its success and possibly work harder to sell things. I believe that his attitude was due in part to the fact that he worked beside his employees in the bakery every day, doing the same work as the other bakers and overhearing most of the exchanges between the sales assistants and customers. He was in no way distant from our working reality.

I wish more business owners were like him.

(via seananmcguire)

Filed under life the customer is rarely right i will always side with service workers the dispossessed