Thursday, 13 March 2014

'80s memories "Call Me" as cellphone milestone "Rocks (Me) Like a Hurricane" (or whatever)

I get a touch nostalgic looking back at the early '80s -- the music, the movies, the clothes, oh my god the clothes. It's easy to gloss over the crappy bits of the era, such as that I was a kid with no money of my own living under the repressive and poverty-stricken regime of checked out parents. Or that I was trapped like a bug in the amber that was and is the public school system where freaks, geeks and cliques ruled, clashed and crushed one another at random.

Still, that little warm hum of wistfulness sneaks in when I think back, casting a soft glow and long shadow. What wasn't to love (if you ignored any negatives, obviously)? We had Stripes, Caddyshack and Ghostbusters in theaters, all by 1984 (RIP Harold Ramis, you will always be awesome); Duran Duran, Journey and Blondie on the radio; and fingerless gloves, shoulder pads and Members Only jackets on many, many bodies (this kept us amused when we couldn't find an episode of Evening at the Improv for a chuckle).

But I can't muster up fondness for the one area where the '80s sucked worse than a middle-aged cover band dressed in spandex and still singing songs of teenage lust -- and that area, my friends, is technology. I wouldn't go back if I could, not without my tech. And my own apartment. The ability to drive, a car, and ready cash despite my tender age would also help sweeten the deal should I ever fall into some crazy hot-tub-time-machine scenario.

The best example of how the '80s (at least regarding tech) kind of blew is emphasized in today's anniversary -- it was 30 years ago today that someone purchased the first handheld cellphone.

This cellphone was a huge step forward, but it still highlights the level of crapitude of '80s tech. This glorious dinosaur cost $4,000, weighed nearly two pounds, and was nicknamed "The Brick." I couldn't afford a version of this new-fangled device (albeit a more "modern" one that somehow maintained the chunky, feature-free sexiness of the original) until around 2001.

Fast forward to today (well, last week, actually) and I just bought my husband a new cellphone that is actually a small computer, camera, alarm clock and more rolled into one, all for the badass sum of $60. For those who give a fig, I got him the Nokia Lumia 520 Windows phone (which is exactly what I already have and love) from Best Buy. I also used a $25 gift card I "bought" with Coke reward points (that's a whole bargain-hunting side of me that could fill its own blog), bringing the out-of-pocket price to $35. Typical operating cost: a $10 top-up every three months from H20 wireless.

Suck on that, 1984.

Sunday, 9 March 2014

Get in the groove with Orphan Black on Amazon Prime

The second season of Orphan Black premieres on BBC America on April 19, and if you didn't hear the buzz in time to catch season one, you can now stream it free on Amazon Prime in the US. It's a fast-paced science fiction mystery filled with clones and the kick-ass Tatiana Maslany portraying several parts.

When I first heard about this show, I was dubious because things can get real bad real fast when you have one person trying to realistically portray more than one character (see shows about twins and identical cousins for a glimpse of the dark side). But Maslany is a wonder, somehow creating a believable cast of clones that have different looks, vibes and even accents. I don't know how she does it, but it's loads of fun to watch.




Wednesday, 14 August 2013

Europe's love/hate relationship with America -- it's not just for breakfast anymore

Some Brits strike me as having a love/hate relationship with America, though they refuse to admit the "love" part. Apparently, this sentiment extends throughout Europe. It's a breezy, "cool kids" kind of attitude to espouse. Many see the U.S. as a blight on the planet, a land of loathsome or ridiculous people. A country whose movies, music, accents, outlook and holiday spots they also seem to love (at least the ones in NYC, Orlando and LA -- the rest are so far off their radar they'll merely blink if you say you come from Wisconsin and mentally insert the words "New York," as that is the vortex into which all other U.S. cities are sucked when you look in from the outside. Americans do the same thing with London, so it evens out) .

It's all a bit confusing and I've never been sure exactly how to explain it to those who haven't witnessed this split personality firsthand. Thanks to British writer A. A. Gill, I don't have to -- he's gone and done it himself, a whole book's worth of explaining in "To America with Love." I haven't read the book yet, but Vanity Fair did us the favor of printing an adapted article. It's interesting reading, and I admit, a bit surprising to see a Brit actually stick up for us Yanks.

Here's a taste if you don't have time to read his article just now:

"Stronger in some countries like France, less so somewhere like Germany, but overall the Old World patronizes America for being a big, dumb, fat, belligerent child. The intellectuals, the movers and the makers and the creators, the dinner-party establishments of people who count, are united in the belief—no, the knowledge—that Americans are stupid, crass, ignorant, soul-less, naïve oafs without attention, irony, or intellect. These same people will use every comforting, clever, and ingenious American invention, will demand America’s medicine, wear its clothes, eat its food, drink its drink, go to its cinema, love its music, thank God for its expertise in a hundred disciplines, and will all adore New York. More than that, more shaming and hypocritical than that, these are people who collectively owe their nations’ and their personal freedom to American intervention and protection in wars, both hot and cold. Who, whether they credit it or not, also owe their concepts of freedom, equality, and civil rights in no small part to America. Of course, they will also sign collective letters accusing America of being a Fascist, totalitarian, racist state."

Go on with your bad self, Mr. Gill!

Sunday, 4 August 2013

Pride and paper money

This just in: Jane Austen will grace Britain's £10 note. Suck on that, Brontë sisters.


Friday, 8 February 2013

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

I've got big news. It's actually old news, but it's new to y'all. I moved back to the States over the summer. It's been so hectic and stressful and just so everything that I never posted about it before now. But here we are, settled in mid-America. Sort of.

I always thought when I left England I'd make a big post of all the things I wouldn't miss there and all the things I was looking forward to in the US. Now that I'm back, the glaring differences are often the things that I *do* miss about the UK! How's that for a shocker? And that it's hard to settle back in, something we thought would be so simple. But there it is. We love finding products we couldn't get in the UK, but are shocked to find other things we've grown used to aren't in the grocery store at all. We constantly regretted how much cheaper it was in the States while in England, but now back home we notice certain things are much pricier here. Granted, the overall big expenses are still much less in the US (like housing -- man, is that cheaper Stateside), but I sure miss the little deals.

Like sponges. I could get a pack of 10 sponges with a scrubby on one side for a pound in England. Here it seems like it's a few bucks for a pack of two or three. I had gotten used to using a sponge once, maybe twice to clean dishes, then tossing it for a new one. Of course, here our dishwasher actually cleans the dishes unlike the sorry excuse for a dishwasher we had in England, so I don't need nearly as many sponges. Logic does little to ease the sticker shock.

And shipping for online orders. I had gotten used to it being free, or some low amount like 5 pounds for a whole order, even of heavy items. It was a bit of shock to come home and rarely find free shipping, or see that furniture shipping can be quite expensive. It only makes sense, as America is so much larger and the distance to deliver can be further, but it still came as a shock.

I guess settling in somewhere new is always hard for me, and this jerking around between countries is even harder. Add to it this go-round a crappy moving company (wait, that's pretty standard) and buying a new house as soon as we arrived (our first ever!), and it's been a stress bonanza.

Not that it isn't good to be back from Blighty, but, well, I'd finally settled in there. It took several years. Will settling in back in the States take as long? We shall see.

Wednesday, 14 November 2012

Kindle book deals rock

I love my Kindle. And I love a bargain. Here are a few deals I found that combine the two for folks who use Amazon in the States:

Celebrating and Savoring A Simple Christmas is just .99 through Thursday. I grabbed one for some tips and hopefully some stress-free recipes!

Check out the Kindle Daily Deal, well, daily. They used to be .99, and now they are typically $1.99. Still not bad -- today's deal is "Lit", by the author of "The Liars' Club" Mary Karr. I enjoyed The Liars' Club, so I grabbed this, too!

Bookworms Anonymous is a freebie -- that's a price I can really get behind! I haven't read it yet, but it seems to be for people who like bookclubs and well, I'll figure the rest out when I get a chance to read it.

Speaking of freebies, check out the list here for the Top 100 Free Kindle books.

Happy reading!

Saturday, 28 July 2012

The cemetery at Cemetery Junction

Reading Old Cemetery, also called the cemetery at Cemetery Junction due to its location, is interesting and large, with rambling passages, timeworn tombs and monuments, and a smattering of deer and cats to keep watch on the departed. And yes, the Cemetery Junction in question is the one for which Ricky Gervais named a film.

Here are some pictures from my visit there in May.












This is the tomb of 21-year-old pilot Bernard Laurence who died
in a motorcycle and sidecar race after creating two world records.









The entrance at Cemetery Junction



Sunday, 1 April 2012

Alabama Shakes

A bit of soul with an echo of Joplin. Nice.



Saturday, 31 March 2012

England discovers flavored cream cheese...finally

In this land where Philadelphia Cream Cheese is simply called Philadelphia (as in, would you like some Philadelphia?, which never sounds quite right to my ears), I've only ever seen two varieties of cream cheese in ye olde dairy section: regular or light. None of my beloved strawberry or honey flavor, just plain ol' plain. Not too exciting.

Until now, that is. Kraft rolled out a new version of the cream cheese mixed with Cadbury's chocolate. It's delicious. It's really good on bagels. It's a start. Now maybe someone will get a revolutionary idea and try other flavors (like strawberry or honey, which I prefer). But then again, considering this duo is thought of as "adventurous," I'm not getting my hopes up.

Thursday, 29 March 2012

O Waffle House, Our Waffle House

I've been to a Waffle House barely more than a handful of times. Maybe because of that, each stands out in my mind as unique and interesting. There was the time I won a stand-up comedy contest (back when I worked up a routine as a hobby/public speaking/writing exercise), beating out a particularly slimy ex who wanted to do it as a career. It also happened to be my birthday. Four rather cute Air Force officers I knew from a favorite dance club took me to Waffle House to celebrate. It was one my most memorable birthdays.

My visits were all in my single days and usually after the bars closed, once with a group of friends, a couple times with guys I'd danced with all night at my favorite karaoke dive before we moved on to the late-night, post-bar delight that is Waffle House. Once I even took my mom there on Christmas Day after returning from a road trip. I remember it as unusual and fun; she recently told me it gave her indigestion. Oh well, we can't all see the glory in the story of being able to say you had Christmas dinner at Waffle House.

My husband recently pointed me to the worst poem ever, which happens to be by and about Waffle House. Inspiration struck, and I had to dash out my own customer's response. It may not be Whitman, but at least it beats out Waffle House's own ditty. I like to keep the bar low.

O Waffle House, Our Waffle House
You mean the world to Us
The customers, the kings
The folk who need no fuss

O Waffle House, Our Waffle House
You always make Our night
At bars we drink, then waffles eat
There often is a fight

O Waffle House, Our Waffle House
Why do you taste so fine?
Why do a few tequilas
always make Us long to dine?

O Waffle House, Our Waffle House
diced hash browns seem no threat
We love them in the hazy night
But morning brings regret



Monday, 5 March 2012

Dr. Pepper is a many-splendored thing

OK, I know it's goofy, but today I took pictures of sugar-free Dr. Pepper. In the UK, that's called Dr. Pepper Zero, and the packaging just got a makeover. For some odd reason, I found that really cool and interesting -- maybe because I'm been a "Pepper" pretty much all my life.

We order groceries online, and when they came today, the new look gave me a small surprise (seriously, unpacking groceries is pretty dull, so any little thing can spice it up). Still having a six-pack of the old version in the cupboard, I did a little comparison. As seen below, the can on the left is new, whilst the one on the right is the old design. The old design looks exactly like the non-diet version (expect for the word "Zero"). Which seems ill-advised, as I know I've accidentally gotten the full-sugar variety before.



I really prefer the U.S. version of this drink, that being Diet Dr. Pepper and caffeine-free Diet Dr. Pepper. Unfortunately, there's no caffeine-free Dr. Pepper Zero in the UK. Below is a pic found online, which I guess is the current look of Diet Dr. Pepper in the U.S. Dr. Pepper Zero now looks a lot-more like its American cousin. Just a mildly interesting tidbit. Or not, based on your attachment to diet soda.

Come on, wouldn't you like to be a Pepper, too?



Tuesday, 21 February 2012

And the beat goes on ... and on



There's that night I only got a couple hours sleep, so thought I'd sleep in. Jackhammer said, "Ha. Haha." Workmen yelling to each other said, "He. Hehe." Well, you win this round. And every other round. Heavy machinery trumps the average Jane every time. Don't worry about missing the action, they keep just few enough guys working at any given time to stretch the job out for months.





Monday, 6 February 2012

Snowfall signals end times in UK


See that, up above? That is mayhem. That is destruction. That is the tiny dribble of snow that tossed Britian into chaos harder than a monkey tosses poo at those dorks who heckle primates at the zoo. Or at least that's what some news outlets would have you think. It really didn't cause major problems down South (except at the mighty Heathrow), but I'm assuming it did in other parts of the UK -- or else newspapers just love to exagerate the headlines. Probably, it's a little of both.

Here's one from the Telegraph (which actually read "Just three inches of snow halts half of all flights at Heathrow" on the main page):

Britain faces a month of weather chaos as snow wrecks travel plans

Those type of headlines are balanced out, oddly enough, by a very unlikely voice of reason -- The Daily Mail. It suggests:

Scaremongering weathermen need to chill out, this is NOT Siberian weather

Y'all, when the freakin' Daily Mail is telling you to take it down a notch, you know things have gotten out of control. It may be a sign of the end of days. Check your Mayan calendars at will.

Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Sh*t Journalists Say (more or less)

Ah, memories. Oddly, it doesn't include slamming down the phone/storming in and spewing forth the kind of profanity that would make a sailor stand up and salute. Ah well, maybe that's for the next vid. This was made by the good folks at Stuff Journalists Like.



Saturday, 28 January 2012

Haiku to the working man



Jackhammer at dawn
(OK, my dawn is at 8)
Really super sucks


Saturday, 21 January 2012

ILR Superstar (Indefinite Leave to Remain success at Solihull)

We recently received Indefinite Leave to Remain through an in-person appointment at the Public Enquiry Office (PEO) in Solihull. For others looking down the barrel of this rather stressful, expensive process in bewilderment, here's our experience.

My husband was a work permit holder and I his dependant -- both Americans. We used Form Set(O). His five years were almost up and that meant we were required to apply for ILR. Annoyingly, you can only do this 28 days before your WP expires -- not a day sooner and no later. Which doesn't leave you much time to reorganize your life and get out of the country if it's denied, but them's the rules, folks.

Fortunately, our case was very straightforward. That fact did little to keep me from stressing out for months and over-preparing, but in the end that was probably a good thing because I discovered a couple little things that were necessary but not noted anywhere in the application.

We decided on the in-person appointment because we wanted our passports back the same day. This cost an eye-watering £2,025. We have no travel plans at the moment, but we couldn't imagine being unable to leave the country (possibly for a few months) if we needed to for some reason, not to mention it would just be really stressful waiting to find out if we made it.

Like I said, our case was very straightforward and we easily met qualifications, but the scary bit was the fear that we would not include some vital document and it would be denied on a technicality. The forms aren't as clear on exactly what's required as they could be.

Solihull PEO

We had a 9:30 appointment and were instructed to arrive a half hour early. We came up by train the day before and stayed at a nearby B&B.

The PEO is in a row of office buildings called Dominion Court at 41 Station Road. The sign is a not-very-obvious placard by the door -- you won't see it from the street. There's a small vestibule outside the entrance, and people are let in one application group at a time to go through airport-like security (though you don't have to remove belt and shoes, as I've seen some others state they did). One man asked to go through our bags and to see our application, while a security guard walked us through those scanner thingys and then used a wand if the scanner had beeped. We had to empty our pockets into a tray and put cell phones in as well. We didn't have to wait to go through security, but by the time we were leaving for good shortly after noon a line had formed in the vestibule. We booked early morning after I'd read many forums advising to do so, and I think that was good advice. The office gets more backed up as the day goes, and the best bet to get in and out in the same day is to schedule an early appointment.

Speaking of scheduling, I did that online. I made an account in my husband's name with the UK Border Agency. I had tried to call and book an appointment a couple months beforehand, and was told they only booked 6 weeks in advance. Using that info, I started looking at the online booking 6 weeks before the first date we were eligible to apply for ILR, checking just after midnight when a new day was added onto the booking system. Make sure you calculate this date correctly, because if you come a day sooner than 28 days before your WP expires, I don't think they'll see you. Also, if you have dependants, make certain to book an appointment with dependants even if they aren't coming with you to the appointment (though it seems pretty clear they really prefer all dependants to attend, and if they don't, the missing person should send a letter with you explaining why they aren't there -- no one will tell you this if you call the hotline with questions unless you specifically ask if you need to include a letter, you'll just be told only the main applicant is required and they won't think to mention the letter bit).

Solihull was hard to book. I checked it and Croydon as my two options in the online system, and only once did I see an opening at Solihull, and I grabbed it. Several times I saw some for Croydon, but passed them over as I'd read in many forums that Solihull was better -- mainly because in Solihull they look over your application and documents before they take payment (which proved true in my case), whereas in Croydon they reportedly take payment first. This is non-refundable, so once they take the money, if they find you need more documentation or you just don't qualify for ILR, you're out a huge chunk of cash. That alone sold me on Solihull.

We were given a number and sent to the waiting area, which was large and clean. In addition to a men's and ladies' bathroom, there was a disabled bathroom that doubled as a baby-changing room. As for disabled access, the office seemed accessible and surrounding streets did have lowered curbs. No stairs are required to get into or around the office. A car park is directly in front of the office, though I didn't note who could park there of if there were disabled spaces -- but at least anyone with special needs could be dropped off directly in front of the office. I think there was a pay car park around the corner (not certain as we didn't bring a car, but I saw a digital sign up the block stating spaces were available).

We had arrived at 9 for our 9:30 appointment and were called back for our interview at 9:20. Which documents to bring and how many is a very big part of this application, and it's a little fuzzy in places. Here's what my ILR caseworker asked for:

-Our passports (for me, that included my old passport in my maiden name because it had my visa in it, and a marriage certificate to prove name change because my new passport is in my married name)
-my husband's Work Permit (I don't recall anything in the application specifically asking for this; I think I brought it because I had read others were asked for this -- turns out we were too, even though many other things required on the application were *not* asked for -- so this was one instance where my over-preparing paid off)
-Employer letter (this listed my husband's salary and that his job is continuing, among other things. I'll put a copy of the letter in a separate post. It also included the SOC code for my husband's job, and the caseworker commented that it was good I had that, and that many people don't include it. We did not include an employer letter listing absences because he had less than 180 days in total, and no single trip of more than 90 days).
-Life in the UK test pass letters
-three months of payslips
-Two bills, one from each of the past two years, to prove residency/cohabitation (I used two council tax bills as that has both our names)
-A completed application form (of course)

The caseworker looked through everything and scanned our photos before having us go to another window to pay. We used credit card and had called the company in advance to let them know we'd be making the charge so that it wouldn't get denied for some reason. We also brought a couple of extra means of payment in case it was denied anyway (Tesco is our fav card to use to collect points, but they are bad to stop payment even on small amounts that seem "suspicious". Like shopping more than once a day in Boots -- um, doesn't everyone do that?) She also gave us our scores from the Life in the UK test -- we both got 23! Meaning we each missed just one question.

She then told us to come back in 2 hours, keeping the same number we'd been given for the initial interview. Directly across the street are several restaurants; the only one that clearly seemed open in the morning was The White Swan (a Wetherspoon pub). A block up are the shops of city center and Torchwood shopping center. We set up shop in Starbucks and read.

We got back by 11:30, but our documents weren't ready until a little after noon -- so that part actually took more than 2 hours, so you can see they were already getting a little backed up. We were given back all of our original documents except for the employer letter and had a new "settlement" page in our passports.

I have more tips and notes about the whole process, but I'll get into that in another post. Hope this helps someone!

Monday, 14 November 2011

Blah Buildings

It's amazing how England has many beautiful old buildings, yet many of its modern buildings are fairly grim and/or hideous. It's like they got architecture so right in the past that there's no point trying in the present.

Case in point is Reading's own The Blade. It's interesting at first glance and hideous at every glance thereafter. I can't find my photo of it, but you can check it out on Bad British Architecture. Like much of the fugly newish buildings you see, this one looks like something from the '70s (and not in a good way) even though it's very recent.

The blogger's photos actually make The Blade look nicer and sleeker than it appears to the naked eye as it cuts its way into the local skyline, typically under overcast skies, which do little to enhance this bad boy. But at least it has a badass name and a big, pointy, dangerous-looking thingamajiggy on top, which must make someone somewhere feel all tough and virile.

Saturday, 29 October 2011

Magic Corn, a real WTF moment

At Broad Street Mall this week I noticed a new stand with the goofily intriguing name Magic Corn. I assumed it meant popcorn, so went in for a closer look at what kind of heavenly kernels might be in the popper.

Oh, it was kernels all right, but nothing as tasty and nostalgia-laced as actual popcorn, which brings to mind childhood memories of enjoying a carton at the movies. You know, back when you really would buy a big box of movie popcorn because people still thought of it as health food rather than a Big-Mac level of fat in a spiffily stripped box.

No siree, this was a big ol' cuppa corn, just piled high and looking icky. I tried to explain it to a disbelieving husband when I got home, upon which he Googled it and muttered in astonishment: "Sonofabitch, it's a cup of corn."

Yes, it really is. I'm assuming it's meant to be a "healthy" option, but A)It appears to be coated in butter and flavorings and B)It's kinda gross. I'd rather take my chances with a carb-filled granola bar. I can't find the calorie count or a description of what exactly is in the flavorings. And even if it were somehow fairly healthy, it's still a nasty snack. It's a cup of corn, dude. A cup of corn.

The flavors of this "healthy, juicy & nutritious" snack include Magic Lemon, Magic Curry, Magic Mexican Chili, Magic Sour Cream and Onion, and several other cringe-worthy varieties. Lemon corn? Sour cream and onion corn? I'm feeling a bit light-headed at the heinousness of it all.

Full disclosure: I'm not big on veggies. I do eat a few, but I have resorted to hiding them in food (a spinach omelet is great; plopping a scoop of spinach on my plate is going to put me off the rest of my meal).

Corn has always seemed the most useless of the lot, all the more so because it seems to pop up in the oddest places over here. Buy a nice sandwich at Boots? Yep, there's usually corn in there. Pop open a can of chicken noodle soup -- oh yeah, there's corn in there. It doesn't even say it on the front label and you can't make it out in the picture. It's just taken for granted you know corn will be in your chicken noodle soup. Because, come on, corn is just implied in a title like "chicken" and "noodle".

Now Magic Popcorn, that I might try. But only if you make it caramel instead of curry.

Thursday, 27 October 2011

Stress Test (aka Life in the UK test)

Hubby and I passed the Life in the UK test! Yay! This is the first hurdle in getting settlement, also known as Indefinite Leave to Remain, also known as "Your work permit is expiring. No, you cannot renew it. You have to pay thousands for ILR or hit the road, Yanks."

Now that the test's over, I can reflect a bit. It sucked. The study materials sucked. Most of it was useless information. Which involved lots of numbers and statistics. Which turned out not to be on the test in favor of questions about when the frickin' pubs close. Aw, man!

I made notes, studied them over and over, and took the many official practice tests many times. I know the rules regarding children in jobs, what jobs they can have, what hours they can work on which days. I know the different minimum wages here (which vary by age). I learned the population of each country in the UK, what percentage that population was of the overall population of the UK, and what percentage of it was an ethnic minority. I learned how many of each ethnic minority there was, both in percentages and millions. I learned all that same info on the different religious groups in the UK. I learned about the different legislative bodies in each country, where they meet, what types of laws they can pass, what the members are called and how many seats there are. I learned loads of stuff I'll never need to know.

In light of all that type of information, I didn't pay too much attention to when the frickin' pub closes. And that question was on none of the practice tests. I put 11pm, as that's when it closed years ago when I was a younger lass visiting these parts and actually used to close down pubs. I know that here we have stayed out past midnight on the rare times I've gone out, but I assume rules have changed, and that they changed after this test booklet was made. I have no idea if I was wrong or right as, get this, we weren't told which questions we missed or even how many we missed. Just pass or fail baby, a smack on the ass and out the door you go. In a manner of speaking.

Other BS: There was a question about your landlord raising rent. Again, not something that was on a practice test nor anything I committed to memory as there was loads of other more likely data on which to make notes and study while cursing under my breath.

Then there were the questions I knew inside and out. And the test managed to phrase them in such a way that it was unclear what they wanted. Such as asking if EU nationals can vote in elections. Well, I knew they could vote in all but general elections. But the question didn't ask if they could vote in ALL elections, it just asked if they could vote in elections. I picked that they could -- hubby says that was probably wrong. Other things had similarly unclear wording.

This test cost £50 each to take and of course transportation costs to get there. We had to get to Maidenhead for a test, where it was given at the library. For some reason, despite all info clearly saying you needed to allow one-and-a-half to two hours to take the test and get your results, some people had parked in one-hour spots and had to move before it started. I thought evil thoughts about them if they were going to delay the test. Turns out they didn't as registration took so long.

It took forever to start as everyone had to be registered and do a practice test. Then no results were given out until everyone had finished (there were 24 questions; you could miss six and still pass). Most people were done in 10 minutes or so, but one person needed the full 45, and I imagine that's pretty common. Anyone who isn't up on their English would struggle. And, btw, this lovely mess of non-essential info started as an English proficiency test that many thought people from English speaking countries shouldn't have to take, anyway. Now it's a cash cow that should at least have the decency to have carefully prepared study materials and thoughtfully worded tests, but doesn't.

One interesting thing in it all was the Maidenhead Library. It was beautiful and exuded affluence. Upstairs where we were there was actually a little coffee bar, comfy chairs and bistro tables and a machine that popped out coffee and tea for a low price (50p? Can't recall, but inexpensive).

There was even this art(?) pictured below. I snapped it on a crappy cell cam, but it's some sort of sculpture stuck to a flag. I don't get the meaning of it, though I'm sure there is one. It was just an odd-looking thing.


Anyway, that's that. As long as we don't lose our official letters saying we passed, that is. Because if we do, despite the fact we are in the system and all is linked to our passports, if the letters go missing before we get ILR we have to take the freakin' test again. I'd rather get a root canal. And we'll have to save them even after ILR as the same test is needed for citizenship on down the road.

Next step: Loads of paperwork and big fees for ILR. And, surprise surprise, if the application is rejected for any reason, even some minor omission, you have to reapply and pay thousands all over. I will not rest easy until that's done. Man, I wish I liked alcohol, 'cause the thought of all this makes me want a drink. In theory.

Sunday, 9 October 2011

The Suck Factor -- office life & too much Crazy

Careerbuilder cranked out a list of 10 Annoying Workplace Habits. It hit the mark of things that make your daily slog irritating, but still came in fairly tame on the workplace suck-o-meter. That office couldn't have been a daily newspaper.

The list captured some of my own co-worker peeves of days gone by: playing music/talking on the phone, stanky food, excessive cigarette breaks (and I do mean excessive -- how about several hours a day?), and gossiping as though Springer's calling any minute for a hot tip.

But I could add a few additional quibbles with co-workers. Such as humming and bopping to your headphones. That bobbing head in my peripheral vision for hours on end made me mentally practice how I'd have to pretend to act sad if you ever got hit by a bus. Which I fervently hoped you would.


Then there's blasting Christian rock on a boom box while others are working, constantly drumming your fingers on your desk, and treating the newsroom to a song. Not just a line of it that got stuck in your head that one time, but singing the whole thing. Thoughtful, no?

Or how about colleagues throwing chairs at (surprisingly tough and bouncy) windows and flinging exacto knives at walls? Life on daily deadline is not conducive to sanity. (I should point out this was in the States, so it's probably a different kind of madness to UK newspapers.)

And I can't forget the co-worker who wore the same sandals every day all summer, sharing a stank-feet waft so foul it immediately gave me a headache. Do you know how gross a smelly foot headache is? Do you?! I'd rather have a poo-flinging monkey in the room. At least that I could dodge, maybe wear a blast helmet and poncho. When your desk is right next to someone with funky BO, there's not much you can do, no way to tell him without inspiring his hatred forever -- and it probably wouldn't fix the problem, anyway. He'd just sprinkle a little powder in the nasty sandals rather than burning the foul things, and my stank-headaches would continue.

Then there's the Snark Queen, full of nasty comments about everyone behind their backs (and right to your face if you were the unlucky wench seated next to her). She's only too happy to brag inappropriately about her husband's penis size and her stint working at Hooters (obviously intended as proof of an attractiveness she mistakenly thinks she still possesses).

But it's not just the co-workers who crap up your day -- it's the public. When first starting out, I worked at a small-town newspaper office designed by someone who either had zero idea of the challenges of a journalist's job or was extremely sadistic. It was designed open plan -- anyone could walk in off the street and not only see the newsroom, but round a corner and walk back to us unencumbered (and uninvited).

That's right, they could accost us any time, deadline or deep concentration be damned, with demands to know when a story would run, why a photo from their family reunion was omitted or what kind of moron could fail to follow up that hot tip on the dancing Chihuahua (which was the kind of story we'd never run even at a small paper -- unless everything else fell through, in which case we'd gladly place a funny hat on the mutt and make it a four-column front-page photo). Most newsrooms are designed with limited access for a reason -- newspapers attract the disgruntled, the unbalanced and the self-promoting like George Clooney attracts the ladies.

The layout screwed us over every day, not least when Crazy came a callin'. I didn't give her that moniker -- she was known as that long before I worked there and probably is to this day. We could hear her loud voice crackling with frantic energy carried back to us from the reception desk as soon as she entered. Our hands would freeze over our keyboards as it hit us: she's off her meds.

I'd call a newsroom meeting (really more a get-out-of-the-line-of-fire meeting) and we'd rush into the conference room, locking the door and closing the blinds on the floor-length glass windows facing the newsroom.

We'd discuss whether the windows were bulletproof. (We hoped they were given the tossed-chair incident wherein a rather severely under-qualified editor had a hissy when he couldn't handle the job yet again and hurled a chair at the surprisingly sturdy windows currently between us and Crazy. The chair bounced back and just missed him, making that story far less awesome than it might've been). However, we also wondered if we could break the outside windows with a chair to make an escape if need be, since they only opened a few inches. Given the aforementioned example, we thought the chances slim.

Crazy never made threats nor seemed violent, but her ability to detect sinister hidden meanings in innocuous articles, mixed with her wild-eyed intensity, put our nerves on edge and freed our imaginations to concoct worst-case scenarios. I once checked the employee restroom for homemade bombs after she'd used it (without asking) because she'd stomped back there purposefully and with an air of frenzied intensity whilst also carrying a giftbag.

Crazy was infamous in the small town. She'd been banned from City Hall and in fact from our own newsroom, but no one on our end had the balls to face her down and make her leave, unlike City Hall which had the Police Department on site.

She was actually a sad case, but there was nothing we could do about it other than try to get our work done without too much incident. Besides, insanity was a normal part of our day, something to take in stride, sidestep or submit to as the case required.

And all of that was just what happened in the office, nevermind what took place once I grabbed my notepad and hit my beats. But there are many stories in the Naked City (or Primly Dressed Small Town, as the case may be), and I'll save the rest for another day.