Do you know exactly what your friends and family do for a living? I have a vague idea how most of mine spend their day but generally it doesn’t extend much beyond knowing the industry in which they work. My good friend T, for example, I can say with absolute certainty that she is in banking. What sort banking? Well, she works for Deutsche Bank, so that would be German banking! But beyond that, I’m a bit sketchy! And as for K, well she is in Accounting. I think!
It’s not that I’m not interested. It’s just that I haven't managed to keep abreast of their various progressions and promotions. And I’m afraid that this isn’t a new thing for me. I absolutely never got to grips with what my Dad did for a living, which is quite ungrateful when you consider that whatever it was effectively kept me clothed and fed. Still, he’s retired now so that’s a weight off my mind! The thing is that it goes past the point when you can ask for clarification. Imagine the conversation “Sorry, Mum, but you know that job that you’ve been doing for 10 or so years? Well, would you mind just refreshing me on what it is exactly?”
It puts me in mind of when I bought my first flat and introduced myself to the chap downstairs. When next I saw him he was munching a bacon sandwich but shouted out what sounded like a cheery “Morning Anna.” And to borrow from the Ting Tings – that’s not my name! But he had been eating a sandwich. Maybe I’d misheard. The next time I saw him he was just rushing off to work but as the door slammed behind him I definitely heard “Hi Anna!” Never mind, I’d correct him next time. Except I didn’t see him until he dropped off Anna’s Christmas card and a bottle of wine to apologise for a noisy party he’d hosted. At which point it seemed a bit churlish to put him right. Plus I might not have got to keep Anna’s wine!
Anyway, I digress. The purpose of this is that I was making this rather long and rambling point to a new friend who pointed out that perhaps my friends and family found my chosen profession – PR – to be an equally closed book. I mean it’s a term we’re all very used to hearing. It’s bandied about in the media all the time. A bit like the phrase ‘offside’ in football. But, as with offside, just because we hear a phrase a lot, it doesn’t necessarily mean we know what it is!
So, for the uninitiated, PR is the management of communications between an organisation and its publics. It can be used to build rapport with customers, potential customers, employees, investors or the general public. And generally speaking, PR uses methods and tools that don’t require direct payment. Such as working with the press, speaking at conferences or employee and customer communications.
It would have been fitting to sum up by juxtaposing the above with a neat definition of the offside rule - but despite consulting numerous sources, I’m still not 100 percent clear!"
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Friday, 7 November 2008
When rodents attack!
So, I’m in Kelsey Park with Suzanne, my personal trainer (get me!) and I’m telling her how, last time we visited, my youngest was trying to encourage squirrels to come to him by pretending he had a peanut. He explained to his Dad how you have to make a particular noise with your mouth to call them and nagged Daddy to have a go.
The husband tried to show willing by half heartedly kissing his lips, only for the fattest squirrel I have ever seen to take this as an invitation to leap the three feet that separated them and land halfway up the husband’s leg. For a brief moment the three of us (four if you count the squirrel) were frozen in a tableau of shock and surprise. The husband recovered first and began, to the huge amusement of the little ‘un and me, to hop around like, well a man with a rodent on his leg! Funny enough in itself! But he accompanied this frenzied activity with what can only be described very girly shrieking!
Anyway, fast forward to today and Suzanne and I had a good laugh about the squirrely incident and then got down to the serious business of my training session. After some preliminary torture, she paced out a (very long) stretch of path and explained how we would be walking the length of it and then sprinting back to our starting point. Joy. I have developed the ability to run for quite a long time at a reasonable-ish pace but I really hate going fast. Particularly with Suzanne, who can spend all day doing training sessions and then still sprint faster than your average mugger with a handag under his arm.
So, we do the walk-sprint thing twice. I thought I was holding up quite well, i.e I didn’t pass out, throw up or fall down. Suzanne hadn’t even broken a sweat so when she suggested we did some stretches before our next sprint I think it was mainly to enable me to recover without losing face! So, side by side, we sank (gratefully in my case) into hamstring stretches. For those of you unfamiliar with exercise (my husband for example!) this involves stretching one leg out in front of you and then bending forward over it to stretch the back of your thigh. Sounds uncomfortable I know but, believe me, it’s bliss in comparison to sprinting next to the bionic woman!
Anyway, we’ve been stretching for mere seconds when Suzanne lets out a blood curdling yell and springs from a bending stretch to a sort of six-feet-off-the-ground star jump in one move. Blimey, I think, preparing to follow suit. Until I spot the rather fat squirrel in the middle of her back! Apparently, it had taken advantage of her stretching manoeuvres to launch an assault from behind – running up her leg and onto her back!
As you would expect from a woman of her suppleness and agility she was soon able to shake off the chubby little interloper and, I might add, with a minimum of shrieking! But we were aghast at his brazen behaviour. I mean, as Suzanne, pointed out “It’s not like I’ve even got any nuts!”
The husband tried to show willing by half heartedly kissing his lips, only for the fattest squirrel I have ever seen to take this as an invitation to leap the three feet that separated them and land halfway up the husband’s leg. For a brief moment the three of us (four if you count the squirrel) were frozen in a tableau of shock and surprise. The husband recovered first and began, to the huge amusement of the little ‘un and me, to hop around like, well a man with a rodent on his leg! Funny enough in itself! But he accompanied this frenzied activity with what can only be described very girly shrieking!
Anyway, fast forward to today and Suzanne and I had a good laugh about the squirrely incident and then got down to the serious business of my training session. After some preliminary torture, she paced out a (very long) stretch of path and explained how we would be walking the length of it and then sprinting back to our starting point. Joy. I have developed the ability to run for quite a long time at a reasonable-ish pace but I really hate going fast. Particularly with Suzanne, who can spend all day doing training sessions and then still sprint faster than your average mugger with a handag under his arm.
So, we do the walk-sprint thing twice. I thought I was holding up quite well, i.e I didn’t pass out, throw up or fall down. Suzanne hadn’t even broken a sweat so when she suggested we did some stretches before our next sprint I think it was mainly to enable me to recover without losing face! So, side by side, we sank (gratefully in my case) into hamstring stretches. For those of you unfamiliar with exercise (my husband for example!) this involves stretching one leg out in front of you and then bending forward over it to stretch the back of your thigh. Sounds uncomfortable I know but, believe me, it’s bliss in comparison to sprinting next to the bionic woman!
Anyway, we’ve been stretching for mere seconds when Suzanne lets out a blood curdling yell and springs from a bending stretch to a sort of six-feet-off-the-ground star jump in one move. Blimey, I think, preparing to follow suit. Until I spot the rather fat squirrel in the middle of her back! Apparently, it had taken advantage of her stretching manoeuvres to launch an assault from behind – running up her leg and onto her back!
As you would expect from a woman of her suppleness and agility she was soon able to shake off the chubby little interloper and, I might add, with a minimum of shrieking! But we were aghast at his brazen behaviour. I mean, as Suzanne, pointed out “It’s not like I’ve even got any nuts!”
Monday, 3 November 2008
That's the way to do it!
My daughter came home from school very upset the other week because they had been doing forward rolls in PE and apparantly her's wasn't up to scratch. My motherly instinct immediately kicked in and I leapt to her defence, assuring her that it was probably fine and that the PE teacher clearly wouldn't recognise a correctly executed roll if it kicked her in the face. And I should know - I've still got all my BAGA badges!
In hindsight, I should have left it there. But I asked her to show me. Now my daughter has many many talents but, as it turns out, gymnastics is not one of them. In fact, SAS soldiers have rolled into smoke filled rooms to resuce hostages whilst coming under heavy gun fire with more style and grace. Anyway, armed with the confidence of the aforementioned BAGA badges, I decided to teach her. And, mainly due to her perseverence and tenacity, she can now perform a passable forward roll.
But what surprised me was that apparantly most of the class struggled to roll in a straight line and hardly anyone could roll from standing and finish standing. So, together we made a little demonstration video!!
In hindsight, I should have left it there. But I asked her to show me. Now my daughter has many many talents but, as it turns out, gymnastics is not one of them. In fact, SAS soldiers have rolled into smoke filled rooms to resuce hostages whilst coming under heavy gun fire with more style and grace. Anyway, armed with the confidence of the aforementioned BAGA badges, I decided to teach her. And, mainly due to her perseverence and tenacity, she can now perform a passable forward roll.
But what surprised me was that apparantly most of the class struggled to roll in a straight line and hardly anyone could roll from standing and finish standing. So, together we made a little demonstration video!!
Friday, 24 October 2008
Living the dream
My little brother and his wife emigrated to Australia about five years ago. My niece was only 2 at the time and they felt that the quality of life and standard of living would be better over there. They assured us that it’s a fantastic place to bring up kids and, having visited, I can totally see what they meant. They raved about the weather, the fact that they could get a much bigger house, that they’d be close to the beach, lots of surfing, BBQs etc. And five years on, they still love it.
Of course, as the days get colder and the nights draw in here, the exact opposite is happening in Perth so when I spoke to my brother at the weekend I expected to come off the phone green with envy at his laid back, sun filled lifestyle. But no, because apparently he'd spent the day pricing up mulch for the garden!
Of course, as the days get colder and the nights draw in here, the exact opposite is happening in Perth so when I spoke to my brother at the weekend I expected to come off the phone green with envy at his laid back, sun filled lifestyle. But no, because apparently he'd spent the day pricing up mulch for the garden!
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
The bank that likes to say I don't really know!
Having already suffered an identity fraud recently, we thought we were done with our share of financial woes. But we hadn’t reckoned on the unique brand of customer service on offer from NatWest (correct at the time of writing but by now they may be part of a larger, more sinister organisation.)
We’ve been undertaking a variety of home improvements and, to be fair, the initial problem resulted from mis-timing on our part – a couple of builders’ bills came in slightly earlier than we’d expected and one was higher than we’d been led to believe. Essentially, in mid July we found ourselves needing to pay out several £k that we wouldn’t have until the husband’s bonus was paid in September.
The husband immediately phoned our Personal Banker (sounds good but we pay about £200 a year for the privilege!) who was extremely sympathetic (well we have been customers for over 50 years between us). He took her through the details – slightly complicated by the fact that we were on holiday in Mexico and trying to manage a 6 hour time difference! Now we’ve both worked in a bank and didn’t think that a request to increase an overdraft facility for eight weeks was a particularly difficult conundrum. And to be fair, there never seemed to be an issue with actually agreeing to lend the money.
The first stumbling block was that our bank (where we'd both also worked for many years) now apparently needed to confirm our identity! Basically, the process could not move forward until our Personal Manager had seen our passports, which were with us, in Mexico! We expressed our frustration and, once again, she was sympathetic (£200 a year buys quite a lot of sympathy we’ve discovered!) but it was ‘out of her hands’. We debated whether to continue with the process or whether to source the money elsewhere (otherwise known as grovelling to one or other set of parents!!) We phoned the builder from Mexico to explain and he was very relaxed so we decided to stick with the increase in overdraft plan.
Back in England, we dutifully presented our passports, only to be informed that NatWest also needed confirmation of our new address. Where we’d been living for over six months and where they’d been sending our bank statements! I took in a heap of utility bills and let the bank employee decide what to photocopy. Which was a mistake, because when the photocopies eventually reached our Personal Banker (which took over a week!), there was a further problem because none of the utilities are in joint names and she didn’t feel, therefore, that she had proper confirmation that we BOTH lived at the new address. Jesus Christ. So then she suggests that we make another trip to the branch, this time with a NatWest joint account statement! Yes, that’s right, one of the statements that they sent us in the first place. Apparently this would be sufficient confirmation. Hey, £200 a year might buy sympathy but it doesn’t get you an appreciation of irony! Anyway, it was now a month since we’d first asked for the money so we did as we were told. But I did ask her if this would be the final hurdle - I like to be prepared if I’m going to need to jump through a burning hoop at short notice! Yes, she assured me, it’s all agreed (her exact words) we just need this last bit of identification for the paperwork. So, the husband took the statement in the next day and the day after that I issued the cheque to the builder. Phew! It had taken far longer than it should have but we’d got there.
Or so we thought. But no. A week or so later, my card was refused in a shop. I phoned the bank and was told it was because we’d issued a big cheque that had taken us over our overdraft limit. I tried not to lose patience – honest! I explained about the new overdraft limit. No, that wasn’t ‘on the system’. I phoned the Personal Banker and was told that the limit had yet to be applied to our account. Apparently our paperwork had now been posted to Edinburgh to be processed. I explained that without the limit going on the computer we couldn't take cash out of our account oor use our debit cards. More sympathetic noises. But 'Edinburgh' couldn't be hurried. To cut a very long story slightly shorter we carried on in this position for over two weeks. They paid all our standing orders and direct debits but, apart from that, we couldn’t use the account. We reminded our Personal Banker that she had effectively told us the overdraft had been agreed and this time we got sympathy and an apology. And told that ‘I thought you’d know the process since you both used to work for NatWest’ - Yes, back in the day when a customer requested an overdraft, a Personal Banker reviewed their account, told them yes or no and then made the money available within a couple of days at the most!
We pointed out that in addition to having to find an alternative way to fund our living expenses; we were also now incurring interest at an unauthorised borrowing rate, which, in all the circumstances, seemed unfair. Our Personal Banker assured us that she would take care of this. And then she went on maternity leave.
Is anyone surprised to learn that the bank subsequently applied interest at an unauthorised borrowing rate? And also a maintenance charge for having to ‘manage’ our account while it was operated outside the overdraft limit? Obviously we complained. And the replacement Personal Banker went on holiday and left it to her Assistant. And then last week we received a letter from the replacement Personal Banker telling us that the bank has decided not to refund our charges. But that if we’re not happy with this decision we should phone her!!!!!!!
We’ve been undertaking a variety of home improvements and, to be fair, the initial problem resulted from mis-timing on our part – a couple of builders’ bills came in slightly earlier than we’d expected and one was higher than we’d been led to believe. Essentially, in mid July we found ourselves needing to pay out several £k that we wouldn’t have until the husband’s bonus was paid in September.
The husband immediately phoned our Personal Banker (sounds good but we pay about £200 a year for the privilege!) who was extremely sympathetic (well we have been customers for over 50 years between us). He took her through the details – slightly complicated by the fact that we were on holiday in Mexico and trying to manage a 6 hour time difference! Now we’ve both worked in a bank and didn’t think that a request to increase an overdraft facility for eight weeks was a particularly difficult conundrum. And to be fair, there never seemed to be an issue with actually agreeing to lend the money.
The first stumbling block was that our bank (where we'd both also worked for many years) now apparently needed to confirm our identity! Basically, the process could not move forward until our Personal Manager had seen our passports, which were with us, in Mexico! We expressed our frustration and, once again, she was sympathetic (£200 a year buys quite a lot of sympathy we’ve discovered!) but it was ‘out of her hands’. We debated whether to continue with the process or whether to source the money elsewhere (otherwise known as grovelling to one or other set of parents!!) We phoned the builder from Mexico to explain and he was very relaxed so we decided to stick with the increase in overdraft plan.
Back in England, we dutifully presented our passports, only to be informed that NatWest also needed confirmation of our new address. Where we’d been living for over six months and where they’d been sending our bank statements! I took in a heap of utility bills and let the bank employee decide what to photocopy. Which was a mistake, because when the photocopies eventually reached our Personal Banker (which took over a week!), there was a further problem because none of the utilities are in joint names and she didn’t feel, therefore, that she had proper confirmation that we BOTH lived at the new address. Jesus Christ. So then she suggests that we make another trip to the branch, this time with a NatWest joint account statement! Yes, that’s right, one of the statements that they sent us in the first place. Apparently this would be sufficient confirmation. Hey, £200 a year might buy sympathy but it doesn’t get you an appreciation of irony! Anyway, it was now a month since we’d first asked for the money so we did as we were told. But I did ask her if this would be the final hurdle - I like to be prepared if I’m going to need to jump through a burning hoop at short notice! Yes, she assured me, it’s all agreed (her exact words) we just need this last bit of identification for the paperwork. So, the husband took the statement in the next day and the day after that I issued the cheque to the builder. Phew! It had taken far longer than it should have but we’d got there.
Or so we thought. But no. A week or so later, my card was refused in a shop. I phoned the bank and was told it was because we’d issued a big cheque that had taken us over our overdraft limit. I tried not to lose patience – honest! I explained about the new overdraft limit. No, that wasn’t ‘on the system’. I phoned the Personal Banker and was told that the limit had yet to be applied to our account. Apparently our paperwork had now been posted to Edinburgh to be processed. I explained that without the limit going on the computer we couldn't take cash out of our account oor use our debit cards. More sympathetic noises. But 'Edinburgh' couldn't be hurried. To cut a very long story slightly shorter we carried on in this position for over two weeks. They paid all our standing orders and direct debits but, apart from that, we couldn’t use the account. We reminded our Personal Banker that she had effectively told us the overdraft had been agreed and this time we got sympathy and an apology. And told that ‘I thought you’d know the process since you both used to work for NatWest’ - Yes, back in the day when a customer requested an overdraft, a Personal Banker reviewed their account, told them yes or no and then made the money available within a couple of days at the most!
We pointed out that in addition to having to find an alternative way to fund our living expenses; we were also now incurring interest at an unauthorised borrowing rate, which, in all the circumstances, seemed unfair. Our Personal Banker assured us that she would take care of this. And then she went on maternity leave.
Is anyone surprised to learn that the bank subsequently applied interest at an unauthorised borrowing rate? And also a maintenance charge for having to ‘manage’ our account while it was operated outside the overdraft limit? Obviously we complained. And the replacement Personal Banker went on holiday and left it to her Assistant. And then last week we received a letter from the replacement Personal Banker telling us that the bank has decided not to refund our charges. But that if we’re not happy with this decision we should phone her!!!!!!!
Friday, 10 October 2008
Forgive me, it's been months since my last blog!
But now my husband has started a blog of his own (http://www.worldshutyourmouth.com/) and put mine as a link. So, I better get back to it! The issue of the day for me is…Cheerleading. Not quite up there with the World Economic Collapse I know, but still.
My daughter has just started at Secondary School and has joined ‘Cheerleading Club’. Last week they were put into ‘squads’ and she was delighted to be in ‘Yellow’. Excellent. But when we asked what sort of sports they would be cheerleading at she told us that apparently it isn’t ‘that sort of cheerleading’. They don’t stand at the side when the school team is playing a game and shout and jump about as encouragement to the team and to rouse the other supporters (or lead the cheer as one might say). Oh no. Apparently, they dream up complicated routines and then compete against other schools.
Is it just me, or is this a faintly ridiculous idea? Making cheerleading the 'main event' is on a par (forgive the pun) with the golf world introducing competitive caddying! Mind you, maybe I should reserve judgement until I’ve been along to one of these events. It would be an amusing irony to find the school hockey team standing on the sidelines brandishing their sticks and chanting the cheerleaders to victory through their gumshields!
My daughter has just started at Secondary School and has joined ‘Cheerleading Club’. Last week they were put into ‘squads’ and she was delighted to be in ‘Yellow’. Excellent. But when we asked what sort of sports they would be cheerleading at she told us that apparently it isn’t ‘that sort of cheerleading’. They don’t stand at the side when the school team is playing a game and shout and jump about as encouragement to the team and to rouse the other supporters (or lead the cheer as one might say). Oh no. Apparently, they dream up complicated routines and then compete against other schools.
Is it just me, or is this a faintly ridiculous idea? Making cheerleading the 'main event' is on a par (forgive the pun) with the golf world introducing competitive caddying! Mind you, maybe I should reserve judgement until I’ve been along to one of these events. It would be an amusing irony to find the school hockey team standing on the sidelines brandishing their sticks and chanting the cheerleaders to victory through their gumshields!
Tuesday, 1 April 2008
I'm right behind you darling!
The husband seems to be one of the few men left in London who still wears a suit to work most days. To be honest, he prefers it that way as there’s less scope for sartorial disaster if all you’ve got to do each morning is make sure that your tie doesn’t clash with your shirt. That being said, it does make for a large and colourful pile of Thomas Pink/Austin Reed/TM Lewin heavy cotton, double cuff, pain in the neck to iron work shirts at the end of each week. And so, for as many years as I can remember, he has been having his shirts laundered at the dry cleaners each week. Since our house move, he’s swapped to a new place and never tires of telling us what a good service they offer and how impressive and convenient it is that they can turn around his laundry on the same day.
Good for them, I think to myself. And good for the husband. But that’s about as much thought as I’ve ever given to his laundry arrangements. Until very recently, when I found myself sitting in traffic outside the aforementioned Dry Cleaners and saw the huge poster in their window advertising the shirt service. It features a large image of a horrified looking woman with a caption that asks “Too busy to wash and iron your husband’s shirts?”
Far be it from me to get all feminist, but what is this - the 1950s? Why isn’t the picture of a man who is too busy to wash and iron his own shirts? Or why isn’t the woman looking horrified because she’s been too busy to wash her own shirts (women can wear shirt to work too!) Or perhaps a picture of a horrified man who’s been too busy to launder the shirts of his civil partner!? You get my point.
I ranted to my husband about this for quite a while. He nodded in all the right places and made noises of agreement with my outrage. And so, emboldened by his supportive condemnation of this sexist travesty, I declared that I planned to phone the Dry Cleaners and complain. “Good idea,” he said. “But would you mind not using your married name because I really do like the way they do my shirts and I don’t want to be barred!”
Good for them, I think to myself. And good for the husband. But that’s about as much thought as I’ve ever given to his laundry arrangements. Until very recently, when I found myself sitting in traffic outside the aforementioned Dry Cleaners and saw the huge poster in their window advertising the shirt service. It features a large image of a horrified looking woman with a caption that asks “Too busy to wash and iron your husband’s shirts?”
Far be it from me to get all feminist, but what is this - the 1950s? Why isn’t the picture of a man who is too busy to wash and iron his own shirts? Or why isn’t the woman looking horrified because she’s been too busy to wash her own shirts (women can wear shirt to work too!) Or perhaps a picture of a horrified man who’s been too busy to launder the shirts of his civil partner!? You get my point.
I ranted to my husband about this for quite a while. He nodded in all the right places and made noises of agreement with my outrage. And so, emboldened by his supportive condemnation of this sexist travesty, I declared that I planned to phone the Dry Cleaners and complain. “Good idea,” he said. “But would you mind not using your married name because I really do like the way they do my shirts and I don’t want to be barred!”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
