Guess who managed to get herself a free Rage Against the Machine ticket?
For those of you who have noooo idea what I'm talking about:
Every year here in merry old England, music artists have a fight for one of the most coveted chart positions: Christmas number 1. Unfortunately, there hasn't really been much of a fight over the last 4-ish years due to a certain Mr Simon Cowel planning the release of the X-Factor winner's single around the time of the chart battle. Because everyone is so hyped up over the winner, they instantly get there without much of a struggle. That was the way of the world until Christmas just gone anyway... A couple of people started a Facebook group to try and get something different to the number one slot, a show of annoyance for all things manufactured, and droves of people joined up to be a part of the movement. To cut a long story short, we all managed to beat the X-Factor winner and got "Killing in the name" to number one. As a thank you, the band offered to do a free gig for their UK fans as a thanks for the fight and recognition. It took two hours of waiting at the computer, hitting refresh and barely making it to see my therapist but I BAGGED MYSELF A TICKET!!
I am sooooooooo damn excited. I've never been to a concert before and to have Rage be the first ever people I go to see is simply amazing beyond all belief. The only real problem is that I have seriously upset the Mister. He registered but was never sent an email with his details in order to book a ticket, so I couldn't get him one when I got through. I'm desperate to go but I know he's near to heartbroken about it (sounds silly but he's a music nerd). I have said that if it bothers him too much I won't go but he's just been a bit huffy an changed the subject.
Ah well. Still sooooo happy. Things like this never happen to me.
I'm over being sad about it and am now seeing that it was probably a blessing in disguise. Basically, the boss wanted someone who could learn everything fast enough to be able to run the shop without help (just like her and the supervisor). I just couldn't do it. Problems started happening after she left me to cash up on my own while she went outside with her friend for a smoke. I thought I'd done everything right but I find out the next day that I'd fucked it up by 50p. Now usually you'd expect a bollocking from the boss about getting it wrong before being left alone and moving on, but she was on my back the whole day. She spent 8 hours telling me how slow I was, how quiet I was, how I need to treat the place as work rather than somewhere laid back to sit around. When I was at the till she was there watching my every move and telling me off in whispers for not being fast or organised enough. She went on so much that I ended up making more mistakes because I couldn't understand what was going on. In the end, after a cry down the phone to mum and a think over lunch, I went back to the shop floor and told her that I have a mental illness and I'm on medication with screws with my memory. BIG FAT MISTAKE! I'm so sure that the 50p thing (even though it was all sorted) and me confessing that I'm going to be slow to remember things is what made her get rid.
She took me downstairs about an hour before my shift was due to finish last Thursday and said that she needs someone who will treat it as work and nothing else (I still don't 100% understand that), that I'm polite and well presented but not what the shop needs and that she wants me to go now rather than staying the 3 months (which I never even got to sign a contract for) so the three of us didn't become too attached.
Meh, good riddance. I don't like fur or leather, she was a bitch to work for, I never had any time for myself and it was starting to piss up my relationship with the Mister.
I'm off to see Chole - my employment advisor - today to go over what happened and start getting me back into job searching again. Hopefully I'll find something more suited to me soon.
So, since the firing happened, I've been catching up on some well needed sleep and some well needed couple time. I think the Mister is secretly happy because he's able to stay over on weekends once again. My parents have said they're happy about it too because they could see me getting depressed again. I couldn't tell but they see more than me.
I donated blood for the first time on about 8 months yesterday. Because of the iron tablets I was on, I avoided going but I spoke to one of the nurses yesterday and they said it was fine and that the meds I'm on now are not going to affect my blood enough to cause me to stop. Yesterday was my 8th donation, so only 2 more to go before I get my bronze certificate.
Nothing much else to say apart from I'm freezing, I want tea and Dad's miniature helicopter buzzing around the living room is so annoying I want to stuff pillows in my ears.
24 year old, mentally ill, bisexual, into fetish, loves shoes, hates early mornings, Graduate, comedy addict, laughs at anything, cries at anything, has the best friends anyone could ask for, has a boyfriend, has a dog, has no money, makes no sense.