Blogging From Work - A First
Well, this is a new situation to find myself in. It’s half term, so there are no students at the college. I thought of taking time off but we decided to wait until Molly’s a bit bigger and we can make the most of a holiday. But, so far as I can tell there’s nothing much to do at work: I gather that by silent consensus, as long as you don’t make it too obvious, you can fart around somewhat. Hmm. I’m all for that. It means I can do some studying.
It’s good to work for a proper employer, rather than for drunks or megalomaniacs, (which is the lot of many a TEFL teacher). But there is a downside. Teaching abroad one sometimes has to threaten employers with the police to get paid. Here, one can simply get lost in the machine. I’ve spent a bit of time this morning emailing and phoning HR and Payroll, to ensure I get paid this month. “Hopefully” the cheery female voice on the phone said, I’ll get paid on the last working day of the month. And then she realised she needed to see my passport, driving licence, a utility bill, and a letter confirming I am who I say I am signed by 12 blood relatives in blood, (I made the last bit up, but you get the idea) before I’d get a penny… Hmm.
Yesterday’s post was necessarily short. I’ve been very sensible vis a vis alcohol consumption in the last few weeks, obviously, but I went to the Alberta Club yesterday to watch Newcastle beat Sunderland on the telly there. Of course I had a few pints, and then got home and made our dinner, and at some point in the evening the beer left me and I felt that depression that creeps up when you drink at lunchtime and don’t have a snooze.
I had to cook lunch because I’m the cook in our house anyway but also because Molly has settled into marathon breast-feeding sessions which go on for several hours during the day, so the second cook, Herself, was otherwise engaged. We’re not complaining because the other side of the coin is, she’s sleeping for several hours at night.
It’s good to work for a proper employer, rather than for drunks or megalomaniacs, (which is the lot of many a TEFL teacher). But there is a downside. Teaching abroad one sometimes has to threaten employers with the police to get paid. Here, one can simply get lost in the machine. I’ve spent a bit of time this morning emailing and phoning HR and Payroll, to ensure I get paid this month. “Hopefully” the cheery female voice on the phone said, I’ll get paid on the last working day of the month. And then she realised she needed to see my passport, driving licence, a utility bill, and a letter confirming I am who I say I am signed by 12 blood relatives in blood, (I made the last bit up, but you get the idea) before I’d get a penny… Hmm.
Yesterday’s post was necessarily short. I’ve been very sensible vis a vis alcohol consumption in the last few weeks, obviously, but I went to the Alberta Club yesterday to watch Newcastle beat Sunderland on the telly there. Of course I had a few pints, and then got home and made our dinner, and at some point in the evening the beer left me and I felt that depression that creeps up when you drink at lunchtime and don’t have a snooze.
I had to cook lunch because I’m the cook in our house anyway but also because Molly has settled into marathon breast-feeding sessions which go on for several hours during the day, so the second cook, Herself, was otherwise engaged. We’re not complaining because the other side of the coin is, she’s sleeping for several hours at night.
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