Last night I was sorting through an old drawer full of papers that I'd shoved out of the way over the years, and found this poem of sorts.
I have no idea why I wrote it or why I gave it this title. Perhaps it was a Monday morning (I used to hate Monday mornings...still do to a lesser degree.)
I have no idea why I wrote it or why I gave it this title. Perhaps it was a Monday morning (I used to hate Monday mornings...still do to a lesser degree.)
My October 17th (1988)
Gone the heart of the free
Now hurt, held in timeless tender trap
Weeping, yet silent
And sure to meet a glittering birthday in defeat.
Today was not a good day even though the gallery sold one of my paintings.
I spent all day talking to various people in India as they attempted to make all the systems available to me. I was locked out of them all. I had no authority. I had no work. I was not recognised. I couldn't even use the internet.
It was so strange to hear the breathing of someone so far away accessing my desktop and moving around my screen. It occurred to me that the person sitting next to him wouldn't hear him as well as little old me tucked away in the UK. I was having an experience that was denied everyone that had ever lived up to a few years ago. Incredible, yet it soon bored and frustrated me. It was the Monday blues kicking in and it was a long, long day.
I was still on the phone...this time to an indian I could barely understand who kept me at my desktop long after everyone else had gone home.
I arrived home to see the car missing. I didn't have my door key and after twenty minutes of knocking, MIL eventually heard me and opened the door...just as the car pulled in the drive. Bev had had a tough day too and needed to stay behind. We are both ready to see this day off.
Come breathe a Tuesday into our tired Monday minds.
Hoping that Tuesday is definitely a more welcome "breath" of positivity and progress for you both.
ReplyDeleteI like your poem too!
Some days are like that, you just can't wait for them to end.
ReplyDeleteI confess that every time I have to speak to an Indian call centre I feel myself bristling with annoyance, anticipating the conversation and the endless explaining and re-explaining to a person who has no concept of how we do things here, even though they are really polite.
I do hope the rest of the week is better for you.
I love the new header photo. I am off sick this week and was considering a trip to Newark to see your paintings in the flesh.
It's nice of you to include others in your journey Ken. Given that you have "the heart of the free" - nothing can hold you down for long. Warmly
ReplyDeleteHi Kelly
ReplyDeleteI'm at work at the moment and can confirm that Tuesday is just marginally better...but better, nonetheless. Perhaps I need some humour:)
Hi Jean
It's not just a case of how we do things differently here, there are so many other significant differences that add to confusion and frustration.
Yes, I read about your week off and I suppose a trip out is one of the pleasurable things you can do while off work...even though the weather has turned.
The gallery has sold one painting but there should be enough to see if you make the trip. You are wise to see paintings in the flesh...it's the best way to do it.
Let me know what day...I might be around to join you for a snack... although, thinking about it, it may be unlikely as my son moves house this week (Leeds to Mansfield)and I could well be there to help. They may not need help, however.
Hi Raj
I think you are right, I'm rarely affected for more than a day or so.
I enjoyed your recent post BTW.
The poem is beautiful---is there no end to your talents? I don't blame you for being frustrated about reaching call centers where the employees don't speak our language as well as we would like. Very frustrating. I once worked at a cell phone store and had a customer in the office who needed a part for his bag phone--the original cell phone that came in a zipped up bag. Remember those? I called the manufacturer, Motorola, only to reach someone in another county who tried to convince me that the phone I was describing simply didn't exist and never had. ARG. I do hope your day is better today, Ken.
ReplyDeleteSorry to hear of your frustrating day. Your poem is beautiful. Hope Wednesday proves to be a better one. x
ReplyDeleteStop whinging, Kenneth. At least you were getting paid for it. I had a completely wasted day and I wasn't getting paid.
ReplyDeleteHi Randi
ReplyDeleteGetting better by the minute, thanks.
Hi Tess
It was my very last day before moving to the other glass prison across the car park, so yes, it was a good day.
Hi Eileen
Since when am I not allowed a whinge now and then? I do feel better that your day was wasted... and without pay :)
Hang in there, Eileen...just over two weeks to go!
ReplyDelete