Frustrated on a Friday...

...By people who think I work for them when I don't.

I swear I have a sign on my head saying "Expect me to do your job for you".

Grrr.

That is all.

Have a good weekend. I'm going to find some wine.

A rant on writing

I love writing. I really do. Sometimes I forget this (usually when I'm 3000 words into a report on a boring subject like mining legislation and have lost my sense of humour a wee bit).

Writing, however, really is a weird job. There's a whole bunch of people who think that anyone can be a writer and can't see the need to hire someone with a journalism or copy writing qualification to do the work.  Then there's another bunch of people who think writing is some mystic creative gift that God endowed on a chosen few. And there's a few of us who are somewhere in between. We believe that words have currency and a good wordsmith is worth a good fee, but that writing's not rocket science or religion either. And not every article can be a masterpiece.

*sigh*

What has brought on this musing? A thread of discussions on the professional writers' forum I subscribe to, about the fact that sometimes writing is really boring. One of the members posted a comment about the fact that he's completely bored with his work, whether it's journalism, copy writing or communications consulting. Sometimes I feel the same. After awhile, words get stale. This is particularly true in certain instances. Like press releases. I hate writing press releases. IT's all the same stuff. Different product, same spin. But I could do press releases in my sleep. It's easy and it's a good way to make a quick buck. But it's not fun.

Another catalyst for this rant was the reaction of the guy who came to check out my complaint about my mattress (which has a 20-yr guarantee but is lumpy after five) when he asked what I do and I said "freelance journalist".

When people ask me that question and I give them that answer, their eyes light up and they inevitably say something like, "Ooh! That must be interesting!" And sometimes it is. There are certain jobs that I love doing - writing that fits into my interest areas. I used to get to do theatre pieces for a lovely lifestyle magazine. It meant I got comps for all the new shows. I loved writing those pieces.

But the writing that actually pays good money tends to be corporate stuff. And while some corporate stuff can be fun, some is decidedly not.

People also don' tunderstand that there are totally different types of journalism out there - investigative, news, political, lifestyle...

When I say "freelance journalist", people don't picture me sitting behind my laptop, typing away at a brochure about hydraulic hose (yes, I actually did write a brochure about hydraulic hose. Fun stuff). They see me with a camera and a notepad in the middle of some obscure African country's latest war zone, dodging bullets and frantically scribbling down tales of human tragedy that will promote urgent action by the masses. I could never be a hard news journo. No bullets for me, sorry.

Or people see me dressed in a power suit, electronic dictaphone in one hand, cocktail in the other, as I interview some or other fabulous celebrity for a profile piece about the contents of their handbag, their thoughts on ageing and the rumours of their latest fling. I could never be an entertainment journo either. I have zero interest in most celebrities.


There are occasional moments of glamour in my job (definitely not when I'm crying my eyes out on my carpet, surrounded by tax documents and tissues). Sometimes I get to meet someone impressive. Sometimes I get to go to glitzy events. Very, very occasionally, I get free stuff (but hardly ever the nice kind). I promise you that none of these things happens very often (and that the food at press events actually tends to be fairly revolting on average).

I am not in this for the glamour. I'm not in this to save the world (but if I can get more people to recycle I'll be extremely happy). I'm in this because it's something that I can do. (I think. Sometimes.) And because when I'm not writing a 3000 word report on mining legislation (for real), I actually do love writing.

Flip!

Can the world please slow down? Just for a second?

I just need a second to stop for breath.

Sucky service rant and word verification

Thanks again to everyone who helped make my birthday awesome.

I had a great facial at Dischem, despite the therapist being unfriendly to the point of it actually being rude. It's the first time I've had a laser facial (hell, it's the seocnd time I've ever had any sort of facial) and it was quite pleasant. I may just have to do it again sometime.

You'll see I've turned the word verification on in my comments. I'm sorry, I know it's a pain. But I have a spammer, Ric, leaving messages on all my posts, so I'm trying to deter him. I've also turned on the comment moderation on all posts older than 14 days.

Right, now for the part where I rant... (I so love having a blog to vent on!)...

I chose Primi Extreme for my birthday supper because I was craving pasta and a cosy fire, and Design Quarter is a mere 5min from our place, so it seemed like the obvious choice. Hah!

We enjoyed our food. Pity the service was so rubbish.

Bad service frustrates me enormously. As far as I'm concerned, if I'm paying good money for something, it needs to be what I'm expecting. And at restaurants that means good food in a pleasant atmosphere served by a polite waitron.

I have mixed feelings about the Primi Piatti chain of restaurants. The first Primi I ever visited was the one in Menlyn in Pretoria, which was lovely. Set in a quiet part of the shopping centre, it had a great atmosphere, good food and the service was perfect.

I also enjoyed eating (and drinking cocktails) at the one in the Waterfront in Cape Town when we lived there. But I've had bad food or poor service at one or two other branches and gone off Primi a bit. Especially since they stopped serving gnocchi, which was one of the main reasons I visited.

Last night's experience left me with a particularly bad taste in my mouth, not because of the food (which was lovely), but because of the non-existent service. See, according to its website, Primi motivates staff through a rank system with a performance-based structure. Really? You could have fooled me.

We barely saw our waiter the whole night. He seated us and asked how we were. I said I was well - it was my birthday. But he wasn't listening to our answer at all and replied with an "uh huh" before rushing off to watch one of the athletics events that was showing on the TV. That's what he did most of the night, actually. He must be an avid athletics fan, because he was glued to that screen for 95% of the time we were there.

He took our order and served us our bread, but didn't bother bringing us olive oil or balsamic vinegar to eat it with. We tried to catch his eye to request it, but he was engrossed with the athletics.

A different waiter brought our drinks, and later our food. Nobody cleared our bread basket and side plates from the table, so there was hardly any room to eat comfortably. Nobody asked if the food was ok. Nobody asked if we'd like another drink. Nobody came near. One would have sworn we were lepers.

I waited 10 minutes to get our waiter's attention to ask for some parmesan cheese for my pasta. When he brought it, the cheese tasted awful (like it had been moulding in its plastic wrapper). When a different waiter took our plates, I told him the cheese tasted funny. He said he'd look into it. We never saw him again either.

After our meal, we sat for 20 minutes waiting for our waiter or someone else to remember we existed. Nobody offered the dessert menu. No-one asked if there was anything else we'd like.

Finally, after watching the manager laughing and chatting on his mobile phone for about 10 minutes and our waiter watching the athletics, we'd had enough. We managed to catch the manager as he walked past us.

"Seeing we haven't seen our waiter all night, would you mind finding someone to bring us our bill?" I asked.

"Oh... Ok," he said, and shouted for our waiter. No apology, please note.

When the waiter arrived, TSC and I calmly told him that we were unimpressed with his service. It wasn't a busy night (he only had our table and one other), so I said I wondered why he wasn't trying his darndest to make a decent tip by giving us proper attention (I waitressed for years and that's what I would do). He made excuses, saying he had checked on us and that we'd seemed fine. Bull! We paid and left.

On our way out, we spoke to the manager, who was lounging around at the front door again. I mentioned that it might be an idea to get his waiters to wait on tables instead of watching TV. All I got in response was another, "Oh... Ok." Once again, no apology.

Thankfully, I have a lovely husband who didn't let our bad experience spoil my birthday. He took me home and cuddled me and offered me chocolate (smart man). But I really wish I had chosen somewhere else to eat on my special day. And I really don't care if Design Quarter is walking distance from my house, I'm NOT eating at Primi there again.

Right. Rant done. Have a great weekend! I plan to ;-)

My thoughts on corporate team spirit

Before I embark on this enitrely unprompted rant, please let it be known that it has nothing to do with the company I work for specifically, but is directed at HR people and directors across the world who insist on corporate teambuilding or "company bonding" sessions... I'm just moaning becuase I feel like it, savvy?

From obstacle courses to drumming circles and company braais (BBQs), teambuilding activities have become big business. Companies vie to outdo each other on their so-called social events and HR people are positively drooling over the new torture devices available to them for reducing staff to a cowering state of submission.

Seriously... Do you enjoy your company teambuilding activities? Aside from Angel, whose company takes her to the shooting range (hell, I'd enjoy that too), I can't think of many people whose faces light up at the mention of a company teambuilding day. Or is it just me being sad and jaded again?

I can't understand what would make people want to strap themselves into a harness to conquer their fear of heights in front of a bunch of work colleagues (some of whom may be hoping for the harness to break). Or having to come into the office for a "family day" on a Saturday.

I mean, really - if I chose to conquer a fear I'd do it somewhere that wouldn't put me at risk of embarrassing myself in front of the people I have to see all day every day at work. And if I want a family day, I'll spend it with my family. Don't people who work together see enough of each other during the week? Most of us see more of the person one cubicle over than we do of our spouse, for goodness sake. Why would we want to drag our families along to sit with a group of people who are probably all thinking the same thing we are: "I wonder if the boss will notice if I slip out after just one drink?"

As far as I'm concerned, your company has you for a vast amount of time. You're there five or six days a week, from morning till late afternoon / early evening. So if they can't engender a team spirit in you during office hours, they are bloody unlikely to do it outside of them.

Yes, I know. There are companies who do teambuilding tastefully. I once worked at a business where we were treated to a day at the spa together instead of having a Christmas party. That's awesome, IMO.

But then there are the rest. And they (as seems to be the norm with twits) are in the vast majority. From drunken themed dinners at the local conference centre (Oscars, Pirates of the Caribbean and Medieval are just a few I can think of off the top of my head) to exuberant games of paintball, they've got teambuilding down to a fine (Salvador Dali-like) art. They throw words like "employee engagement" and "high impact company learning experiences" around as they tell competitors of their brilliance and bask in the glow of their own haloes. Hah!

Have you noticed how many of the activities they pick to supoosedly build team spirit actually pit colleagues against each other? Think about it... Sport tournaments, paintball, the amazing race (a current favourite), "fun runs" (that's an oxymoron in my book), raft building and various other "entertaining" games all end up with people facing off and trying to beat each other.

I know it's supposed to be a lighthearted and enjoyable game, but if you've ever seen TSC (or me, actually) lose at anything, whether it's Monopoly, tennis or something else, you'll know that some people are just bad losers and will not be encouraged to an attitude of team spirit through daft corporate games. Unless they win, that is. Then I will smile at you, pat you on the head (if I can reach, which if you've met me you'll know is unlikely) and tell you how nice it is to work with you.

Obviously, work is a good place to meet people, and I have nothing against friendships that begin at work and blossom beyond. But... surely we are capable of finding our own natural friendships without being forced to endure a day of sweating next to Garlic Gary from accounts while you both pretend you're having fun doing three-legged races and wheelbarrows?

There are some people who are not natural athletes and object to being forced into physical competitions where they're bound to be seen as a loser. There are those who just plain suck at anything to do with rhythm and are understandably not keen to participate in the corporate drumming circle you've planned. And there are those who just don't like people and resist having to emerge from the bowels of the offices (where they chose to work for a reason) to join a discussion on "what we learnt this week".

As they say, you can't please everyone. My response, with regards to company teambuilding, is simple: Don't bother trying. Give it a skip altogether and we are more likely to be happy with that. Or I am, at least.

Weary Wednesday

It's only the middle of the week, people! How can this be? Is the universe and all its cretins conspiring against me to tie me down in a tangled web of incompetence and inefficiency, tied neatly with a bow of bereaucracy and ignorance?

Grrr...

What has set me off this time, you may be wondering? Is the infamous UJ? Surprisingly, no. Although that paragon of patheticness has given me grief this week. But that's a whole other rant on its own...

No, my friends, the culprit this time is far more sinister, with scaley arms and metallic claws that reach even further afield... it's TELKOM.

For those of you who are fortunate enough not to have experienced the mammoth uselessness of South Africa's archaic telecommunications (non)service provider, the utility is widel-known locally by its well-earned and appropriate nickname, Hellkom. In fact, there is an entire parody site dedicated to Hellkom here.

So what did they do this time?

About three or four weeks ago, TSC and I took a trip to our local Telkom Direct outlet to get our landline sorted out. Our mission was simple: to get the line that had previously been in the house re-activated in our name.

Huh!

An hour and a bit later, the dreadlocked dude who was "assisting us" finally finished up the paperwork and told us our line would be active within 48 hours.

Surprisingly, it was. Only it was a different number to the one that had been operating from the house previously. We didn't give it much thought and happily informed family and friends that we had a new home number.

Just over a week later, the line went dead. There'd been a big storm, so we figured it was that. But it wasn't. See, somehow, Telkom had managed to give us a number that already belonged to someone else - an IT company in a nearby mall.

Idiots.

So TSC went in to the shop to sort it out. "No" they told him, "It's in your wife's name, so she must do it. Tell her to call this number and they'll help her."

K... I called that number about 50 million times. Okay, slight exaggeration, but it was a lot. Eventually I got through to the waiting line. I waited for five minutes or so and was given the option of a call-back (you leave your number, they call you when an operator becomes available). But nobody ever called me back.

So this morning I called again. After answering many questions or varying relevance, I was told that they have no record of my application and that I have to go and start the whole bloody process again.

Can. You. Believe. It?

Please note, Slyde, that there is no mention of sunburn in this post. So I hope you can relate now.

Has anyone seen the new Bond flick? We saw it on Fri. Very cool, IMO. I reckon Daniel Craig is far better suited to the role than Pierce Brosnan.

The weekend was a good one. Poor TSC had to write varsity entrance exams the whole of Sat, so I got to do some serious packing and sorting. We then watched the rugby, took out a lame DVD and on Sunday, after church, had a yummy lunch at Papachino's with my folks. We spent the evening chilling with a truly awesome family. we know each family member from a different place and time in our lives and it's the first time we've seen all of them together. Good wine, great company and balmy weather made for the best of times.

But now for a much-needed rant... TSC has a Namibian driver's licence. The other day he realises that it's about to expire in a month's time. So he phones the traffic department, speaks to a million-odd people about how to go about converting it to a South african licence and is eventually told that he needs to go to such and such department, which is on the arse end of Joburg and only open on Monday and Tuesday mornings.

Off he goes, ID book and a letter of validation from the Namibian Embassy in hand. These were the only documents he was told to bring. Upon arrival, he is informed that he also needs a copy of our lease. So, being the lovely wife that I am, I dash home, fetch the bloody lease and fax a copy to the department.

Fine, he is told. Come back in a week with R160.00 cash and we'll let you know what needs to happen. So this morning he treks out to the ugly governemnt building once more. As he steps through the door, the woman he spoke with last week says, "oh. It's you. You've been declined."

Why? No reason. Except, apparently, that he should have thought about doing this ages ago. The spiteful cow.

So now he needs to go to the licencing department in Namibia, which is only open on Wednesday, before his licence expires on 15 December, to renew said stupid licence there. With our move happening this weekend and two weeks full of meetings and end of year functions we are committed to after that, you can imagine just how impressed I am at the thought of being left home alone.

The joys of living in Africa.

The pigs

Argh! I don't know about you, but I find sitting in traffic super-stressful. My blood pressure rises as I compulsively watch the clock ticking and shake my head at the nutter in the stationary car next to me picking his nose. In Johannesburg, however, unless you work from home, there's no real way to avoid the traffic. I'm more fortunate than some in that I only live 8km (just under 5 miles) from the office. BUT it takes me on average 25 minutes to get there!

Why? Well, aside from the bumper-to-bumper traffic, there are numerous other obstacles to overcome. My route to work is fairly simple. I drive out from my complex, onto a main road. I keep straight until I hit a T-junction and then I turn left. I stay straight again through a couple of robots (yes, that's what we call traffic lights in South Africa), turn right and go through two more robots and arrive at work. On a weekend it takes me 10 minutes. Well it would if I ever worked on weekends, that is ;-)

BUT, on the road just after the T-junction, there are currently massive roadworks going on. There are men working, large construction vehicles and loads of those little orange cones that seem to scream "hit me!" (or is that just me?) stretching for about 1km. Why? Understanding that the traffic on this road is completely insane, the city council has decided to widen the road. Fair enough. I can deal with that if it means the traffic will let up some time in the future. What I can't get over, however, is that every morning, on the same road, the cops set up a roadblock during the peak traffic, which makes it a million times worse. Yes! there they sit in their cars, all 20 or so of them, pulling off our mini-bus taxis and anyone else they don't like the look of, which causes havoc.

Once I'm past that road, it's usually a lot better. Today, however, the idiots had set up ANOTHER roadblock in the last road I take. Grrr! Are they thick? Have they not SEEN the traffic? But no, the clever clogs must put two blocks on two already busy roads during peak hours next to the roadworks?!?!?!

I will not let this colour my day. I will not. I will console myself with the fact that my new house is much closer to work (about 4km away) and cuts out the roadworks, if not the roadblocks.

Our house, in the middle of our street...

The death of chivalry and service in SA

Today's a day for a good rant about South Africa's (lack of) service.

Let's start with Sun City. One of South Africa's top tourist destinations, Sun city offers a world of facilities, a range of accomodation and, of course, much gambling. Hubby had never been there before, so as a joint birthday present for the two of us from my folks this year, we were given a weekend at the Cabanas family hotel there.

Our room was not up to scratch (single beds when we'd specifically requested double and phoned to check, shower that didn't drain, bedside lights that didn't work etc), so I wrote a polite letter to the general manager detailing the problems we had experienced. I got a phone call from him awhile later. He couldn't remember what my complaint was about (the first sign of bad management), but he wanted to give me his cell number so that I could call him next time I came to the hotel and he would check the room and give us free breakfast.

So, instead of assuming responsibility, this moron wants me to spend my airtime calling him so that he can check a room that should already be in good condition (seeing I will be paying good money to stay in it), and give me a free breakfast that is already included in the price of staying at the Cabanas? That's fantastic service, isn't it? I think I'll recommend the experience to all my friends: "Visit the Cabanas - you get shoddy rooms and an incompetent manager, but at least you don't have to pay for your complimentary breakfast if you complain!"

Sun City, however, is not a patch on South African Airways.

I don't have a credit card, so I asked my mother to do me the favour of booking a flight to Upington for hubby and I to visit the in-laws in December. She did so, but booked it in my married name. As my ID book is in my maiden name, she needed to change the booking to the correct name, so she called them back to make the adjustment.

They don't do adjustments.

She had to cancel the tickets, forfeit a portion of the price and book new tickets. The woman who booked the tickets gave her two wrong numbers to call, told her she would have to pay double the original amount for a new set as the lower-priced ones were not available (despite the fact that my mom had just cancelled two of those, making a pair available) and generally had no clue about how to do her job.

But what else would you expect from the airline that issued my husband and I tickets on opposite ends of the plane on our first day of our honeymoon? As SAA is the only airline flying to Upington, you have no other choice, so they really don't give a flying (excuse the pun) ehm... truck about customer service.

All this sunshine journalism about South Africa being a great tourist destination forgets to mention the bit about getting to that destination.

Ok, enough for today. If you want to check out more ranting, visit http://www.hellopeter.com/, a brilliant South African customer service website.