Well.....

..... An official meeting was held today to discuss the proposed 'Lean Cleaning' plan.

The outcome is that my hours are not going to be cut. They are to be vastly altered (three days I will be working a six hour shift from 6-AM and other days a four hour one starting at 12-NOON) but they are not going to be cut.
     There will also be vast changes in the structure of daily tasks, which are going to be finalized within the next few weeks (to be printed out on special individual "task cards"; one per cleaner) with a view of bringing in Lean Cleaning officially by 22nd December of this year.

I have no clue how this is going to work. The resulting effectiveness of cutting some jobs out completely (considering that nobody else will bother doing them and that with an overall drop of four hours per week we will no longer have time, nor the permission to reclaim them even if we did) is doubtful; as is trying to clean the store during the afternoon when the store will presumably be choc-a-block with customers.

BUT:
     My hours are staying at 30.
     And I will have clear, consise instructions to follow that (no matter how silly, counterproductive or inconvenient they may be) no Store manager will have the authority to argue with.
     And I should have a proper conrtact signed and sealed by 22nd December.

.....That'll do me.....

Alice x

It Beggers Belief That I Am Having The Opportunity To Do This Twice In One day, But -

- ladies and gentlemen!
     Allow me to present; the second instalment of Alice's List of What Not To Do.

WHAT NOT TO DO, NUMBER 2:

When one is walking across a public field (that has members of the public both on it and nearby) and one comes across a hefty branch that one decides to pick up and throw for the dog, one would be advised - after picking it up and feeling its weight - against uttering the phrase "Wow! This would make a great murder weapon!"
      And to add; one would be definitely advised, if one absolutely insists upon uttering said phrase, against uttering it loudly.

=spreads hands=

..... WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME!? .....

Alice x

To Distract Myself From All The Upset That Is Invading My Nice, Boring Yet Endearingly Quirky Little Life Right Now, I Bring You -

- Alice's List of What Not To Do!
     Whee!

=crowd cheers=

OK. =clears throat=  Here we go.....

WHAT NOT TO DO, NUMBER 1.

     When one has been stood at an ATM machine in what is known as a 'rough' area of town for an admittedly disproportionate amount of time (it was the machine's fault, though; I swear!) and the much taller-and-stronger-and-meaner-looking-than-you-are woman behind one finally gives up on sighing pointedly and flat out tells one in a very angry tone of voice to "get the fuck on with it, already", the correct response for a coward (such as one is) to undertake is
     a) either with a meek apology or in cowed silence; cancel transaction and collect card before hurrying away
     or
     b) either with a meek apology or in cowed silence; rush through transaction as quickly as possible before hurrying away

Those are correct responses.
     An INcorrect response for a coward (such as one is) to undertake would be to blithely sing in a sweetly confident voice the well known adage that "patience is a virtue".
     .....Definitely.
     That is incorrect. More than incorrect, in fact, it is wrong.
     This is something that you definitely Should Not Do.
     Ever.

So! Guess which one of the above I picked?
     .....Yeah.
     Go me.
     Smart little coward, I am.

Alice x

How To Cheer Alice Up Instantly:

As you scan through the bottle of intoxicating liquor she is going to purchase, ask her (who is 30) for identification to prove that she is over 21.

.....The End.

Alice x

Another Letter:

{WARNING: there will be profanity. A lot of profanity}

Dear Customers of The Store;
     Today is 11.11.14.
     You may not be aware of this - though, frankly; HOW? - but every year, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the the majority of Britain grinds to a halt and stands in silence for two minutes.
     The reason we do this is to pay our respect as a country to the hundreds, thousands, hundreds upon thousands of men (most of them between 18 and 23) that lost their lives in two world wars. More than that, it is to pay respect to everybody that played a part in either of the wars at all, however small. And it is to pay respect also to those men and women that are in the armed forces currently; risking - and in still too many cases, losing - their lives for the sake of a greater good.
     That is what the gap between 11:00 and 11:02 on the 11th of November stands for, for us as a nation. Respect for the dead. OUR dead.

You, today, at 11:00 on the 11th of November, happened to be in The Store shopping for various building supplies.
     Let me repeat that. BUILDING SUPPLIES. Not emergency medical supplies. Not food to feed a person about to pass from starvation or a diabetic on the verge of a coma. Building supplies. Bricks, planks of wood, quick dry cement...those are the things The Store sells. Not life or death necessities but useful, indeed even often very much needed items, to assist with the building things or the mending things already built that are broken. That is what a DIY stores' function is.

So! Now that the above has been clarified; to those of you that ignored the three announcements made over the loud speaker and then ignored all of the people that stopped whatever they were doing bang on 11:00 and stood or sat to attention, deciding instead that not only would you carry on shopping but that you would actually have the gall whilst doing so to become angry with the nearby members of Store staff for not jumping to it like good little retail slaves and starting an in depth conversation about dry walling (or whatever it was) and worse, make snotty comments towards the poor girl manning the self-service tills that was forced to ring up your purchases without speaking, I have a message for you:

FUCK YOU.

Seriously. Fuck you and your selfish, disgusting display of ignorant arrogance. OK, you didn't wish to observe the two minutes' silence; that's your choice. I disagree with it entirely, but it is your choice to make and I respect that. Really, I do. We live in a free(-ish) country after all (thanks in part, by the way, to those same fallen soldiers that everybody else was so busy remembering) and making such a choice, while unpleasant, is indeed your right.
     But what you do DO NOT have the right to do is to try to force others to abandon the path they have chosen simply to save yourself a wait. Really, you don't.
     It isn't even that long a wait! It is two minutes! Your shopping/question/life-or-death errand/what-the-heck-ever-else was delayed today by only two fucking minutes! Was it that big an inconvenience to you?? Was it truly that big a deal?? Grow the fuck up!

Listen, it's quite simple; if you simply HAVE to save yourself those ever-so-essential 120 seconds and drag your ignorant, disrespectful self through the self-service tills of a DIY store, then I can't stop you. But please, for the love of God, if you feel you must do it then kindly do it QUIETLY.

As I said; I can't stop you doing whatever the heck you want during those two minutes.
     But I can hate you for it. And judge you. And you can bet your sorry excuse for an arse that that's exactly what I did.
     And so did everybody else.

Yours, utterly appalled,
Alice.

As Of This Evening, We Have A Properly Carpeted Living Room.

It is lovely.

Thank you. That is all.

=bows. walks off=

Alice x

Due To A Bright Idea I Had Some Time Ago -

- I've just wiled away a couple of hours stitching together a toy for Bingo using some old socks, a recently purchased squeaker (£5.99 for 50) and some stuffing from inside a disused pillow.

A good idea, in theory.
     The problem is that now I've actually finished I find that two and a half hours have passed, I have destroyed 3 old socks and stitched my way through yards of thread, and the end result is.....ugly.

Very ugly in fact.
     Ugly as sin.
     .....I mean I knew it probably wouldn't look especially great. I knew that. But.....


=sigh=

A skilled seamstress I am most definitely not.
     Still. Bingo will like it.
     So t'was all worthwhile and I shall feel very pleased with myself when I give it to him.

.....He WILL like it, right?
     I mean, dogs don't care about how things look, right? Of course not; they don't care about things like that. He'll just like it because I've given it to him. A toy from Mommy. He'll love it. Of course he will.
     Right?
 
.....It will smell of me. He'll like that.
     Plus it squeaks. I know it does because I've checked. Several times now.
     He'll love it.

.....Right? Right??

Alice x

UPDATE: having returned from visiting The Grandmama at 2:45-PM, Bingo was presented with the toy (affectionately christened "Thingy").
     Thirty-three minutes later, he is still playing with it with a rapt and thus far careful attention.

.....Safe to say, I think; he loves it.