False Charity

I have the blues this week so far. So much so that I'm wondering at what point someone says, "nup this is more than blue, this is depressed." I've been alone pretty much since Friday (except for work but that doesn't count), DrummerBoy has been working, rehearsing, partying as he should and whilst the first two days of solitude are fun and I can waltz around in my anally clean home in the nude if I want, dress in front of the heater without being busted and drink myself into oblivion . . by Tuesday night I'm feeling totally bleagh. (No awww, chin up comments please, I need to be broken out of my malaise with a slap on the face and a splash of cold water - Get a grip girl!) As Notsoanonymous would say "Don't expect sympathy from me . . go bash a boxing bag!" And he's right, I need to thump something . . .but I've lost my gloves!

And before you start with the PMS shit, I'm desexed remember so no need to go waxing moon cycles. Although it may have something to do with my total inability to sleep more than five hour stints at a time, many of those punctuated by a restless shove of the Labrador in order to reclaim my pillow or a hot flush that forces me to divest the duvet only to feel freezing within seconds and lean forward to cover up again. I'm not often bluesy . . but when I am, I get it bad.

I miss my girl to the point that I had a spontaneous teary when I listened to a song by her favourite band and her smell is disappearing from her room which exacted a similar sobby outburst. Four months to go before she's home but who's counting. The weather is annoyingly cold, frosty and horrible in the morning and the evening and absolutely gorgeous during the day when I'm locked inside the office and in no mood to appreciate it. I have $120 to last me until payday on the 15th which has stymied my painting ambitions for a couple of weeks. The IT guy has to go and the Receptionist isn't working out so I'm looking down the barrel of being the bitch from hell and possibly firing two people in one week. I hate that.

The biggest cause of my current state of total pissedoffdom is the fact that I spent the best part of the afternoon with smiling sychophantic reps from our licensee in a marketing meeting where their offer for help simply relied on us committing to a timetable to bring on new clients in one of the worst economic environments in 25 years! It was one of those "we'll tolerate them then go and do our own thing" meetings. We humoured them. It killed me!

The beautifully presented and coiffed late 20 somethings managed to state the bleedin' obvious in terms of marketing to clients, despite being in possession of my fine Marketing plan. . . indulge the bitches I thought . . .at least the partner's won't argue with them because they're young, beautiful and sweet. (That shat me as well . . .show a 55 year old man a pretty girl and their balls drop off - the drooling was palpable).

One of this year's initiatives is to raise money for the Smith Family. Not a bad thing in its own right, indeed, a worthy cause to raise money to educate disadvantaged youth and give them a leg up. As a business, and as staff, we'll embrace and support it wholeheartedly by having a 10,000 steps program (wearing a pedometer during October and getting sponsorship for the number of steps we take over the month). Somehow the charitable intent becomes devalued when they talk about "We could ask the Smith Family to present Thank You certificates to participants" (surely charity does not need to be recognised with a glass engraved plaque that sits on the reception desk saying what superlative philanthropists we are?). The horror on their faces when I said that we'd support the cause but didn't want 'thanking' for it . . .this mob are from the 1970's Amwayesque reward for everything bunch and it shits me to tears. Fucking smiling assassins. (I think I may have said that already).

One, in discussing the initiative, started talking about how the funds raised may be used to finance a holiday 'camp' being organised for such children. Terrific, they deserve a break these kids, many of whom have never seen the sea, let alone a holiday. Besides learning the usual 'trust' skills, having fun in the surf, tutorials on bullying and how not to take a steel bar to your neighbour's knees when he pinches the chromies on your bicycle, they'll also be taught about nutrition and food prep. (Ever seen Jamie Oliver's School Dinners?) To this, one skinny perfectly quaffed marketing guru said "Oh and they even teach the kids how to recognise vegetables and cook healthy meals which really surprised me, fancy not recognising vegetables or knowing how to cook healthy meals?" Stupid twat. . . .even Sgt Bilko could see the anger in my eyes and kicked me under the table for fear I might smite the ignorant and patronising little yuppie vegan for not realising that most very disadvantaged children live on jam sandwiches, chips and fizzy drinks largely because they are cheaper than a fresh salad or broccoli! Apples at the moment are $4.99 a kilo . . .I can buy 4 litres of soft drink for $3.00 . . you poor? You do the math!

The lack of empathy, knowledge or understanding of the lifestyle of the disadvantaged put paid to my opinion that she's a spoiled little North Shore cow who sees the charitable support of the Smith Family as a marketing exercise - such leverage we'll gain from it! It will be plastered all over our offices how magnanimous and charitable we are . . in our newsletters . . .we'll be given pedometers (at what cost?) to count steps . . .couldn't we just give them a smacking great cheque and fuck the marketing?

So excuse the grumps. The only light in my day . . my tax return has been signed and submitted (as has yours ClearBear) and the fact that after this meeting with the smiling assassins, I came home . . . had another cry and have just downed an entire bottle of Rosemount Oak Cask Chardonnay . . . God I wish I could work the PS3, I'd log into CoD and blow the bejeezus out of the enemy! Hey, it'll all be alright tomorrow when the kids come for dinner and I have thrown off my angry haze.

Sorry, I dislike false charity and stupid people.

Clare's band . .my song of the week: