The Tale of Two Santas

So I'm currently slaving away, working for The Man. The Man being Santa, of course. I'm currently running a Santa photography set in a shopping centre in a pretty dodgy town. It's been... interesting, to say the least. Particularly the things I have noticed about those who live in this town:

1. Shoes are optional.

2. Mullets are still cool, and I have a feeling that in this town, they never went out of style.

3. Teeth are a privelege, not a right.

4. Parents wish for their children to be Younike and dif'rent, so their names and spelling variations should be a reflection of this.

I originally applied to the job because I knew that I'd be out of work during Christmas through to February, as the work I've been doing for the past 6 months has been childcare/school related. I figured that at least it would be 6 weeks of fulltime work and I could get a bit of money behind me to not have to worry too much over the school break.

Also, I kind of thought it would be like being in a David Sedaris story.

The ridiculousness of the work is the same, but that's about the only difference.

My main disappointment is that I don't get to dress up as an elf. I wear a T-shirt and black work pants, and the only Christmas-y thing I do is wear Rudolph earrings, and if the shopping centre aircon is working, a Santa hat. So I don't often wear the Santa hat.

Then there's the Big Man himself. Santa. Oh, Santa.

See, the problem is, we have two Santas. One is the most lovely man on the planet. He's 78, he has grandkids and great-grandkids, he buys me milkshakes, he gives me gardening advice, he jokes with kids and makes them comfortable, and he reminds me so much of my granddad. I want to adopt him.

Then, there's Bad Santa. Bad Santa is a DICK. An absolute arsehole. He spends his days whinging about everything from his costume, to his hours, to his boredom, to the uncomfortableness of his chair. He never smiles in photos, which, despite the beard covering half his face, is very noticeable. He doesn't do different poses so I can try and convince the parents to buy the largest pack with all of the photos. He takes long breaks, longer than he's allowed to, and when it's quiet he will just get up and go for a walk without telling me, leaving to me make excuses about reindeer and Mrs. Claus to the kids and their parents. He makes my shifts unbearably long, and I've been so close to just screaming at him, "You know what?? You get paid twice as much as I do and do half as much work, so shut the hell up!"

It's not like someone who dresses up as Santa particularly needs the work - it's seasonal. How have they been living for the past eleven months? It's something you do if you LIKE KIDS and Christmas, and want to make a little extra money this time of year. When there's no kids about, and he hasn't gone walkabout, he spends his time looking at his reflection, whinging about how much better last year's beard was.

The really frustrating thing about all this? There's nothing I can do about it! It's not like I'm his boss - hell, the company I work for aren't even his bosses. He's contracted out by a company that trains Santas for this time of year, and he's contracted out by the shopping centre.

I have four weeks to go. If you see Santa being thrown off a roof, I've finally cracked it and I've done away with him.

Trying to Catch Up

So last week I finally finished uni for the year. I spent the whole of Thursday in bed, working on a quilt I'm making (more on that in another post), watching TV, and having mini anxiety attacks, thinking that I had something due for uni or had to go to work. I kept checking my phone calendar to make sure I hadn't missed anything, and the relief that came when I realised I had nothing on was heavenly.

I basically spent the weekend doing nothing much - hanging out with my friends, being Sunday people down on the Central Coast, and trying to organise my new job.

Have I mentioned that starting this Sunday I'm going to be a Santa Elf???!! Well, not really. I'm just working for a Santa photo set, and unfortunately, we have a uniform - it would be so much better if I could be an elf. It's only for 6ish weeks, but I'm already stressed from the job because I've been made the Set Supervisor, and having to try and chase my staff and lock in training dates and new staff when the old ones quit before they even begin is doing my head in. One exciting thing is that I've got Mikey working for me every weekend. Basically, I'm going to be working 6 days a week on the Santa set, then on the 7th day I'll be doing before and after school care. That's not to mention the tutoring afterwards. Sigh. I'm looking forward to it, and I know it's not for very long, but the thought that I'm not going to be able to see my family until Christmas Day is a bit sad. BUT I need to do this in order to survive the Christmas holidays, money-wise. Although I love looking after kids and tutoring, one of the downsides of this kind of work is the zero work during the school holidays.

Meanwhile, after tomorrow night's tutoring session, I'm going down to Sydney to see my family. There's been some crazy big news from that camp, so I'm looking forward to seeing everyone. I'll let you in on the news once everyone knows. But annoyingly, I then have to come back on Thursday night or early Friday morning for my set's training session (today's was cancelled because our equipment hasn't turned up), and then go back down to Sydney Friday evening so I can see my lovely friends on Saturday.

Hectic. But worth it.

Yes, this is the most boring post in the world. Sigh.

Back to School, and Becoming Claudia

So this week was the first week back at uni for the semester. I can tell it's going to be a long and boring one, seeing as this semester I am redoing the classes I failed last year when I was going through my depressed phase. It doesn't seem too bad so far for my Junior English class, because even though I have the same tutor and lecturer, it still seems quite fresh, and she's changed the assignments for the class this year which I'm happy about - I wouldn't want to put in all that work again on trying to write a new essay on the same topic.

My Junior History class, however, is exactly the same. Right down to even doing the exact same tutorial activities and readings as the class last year. Now, that's just lazy. The assignments are the same as well, but that's fine with me - unlike the English assignments, I didn't really try very hard with History and pretty much did the bare minimum for the first assignment, scraping through with only a very low credit. This time, I know exactly what it is the lecturer wants us to say, and, having now taught in a history classroom, I have some real ideas on lessons and what will work for the assignment.

That said, I'm already over this semester. I just want to finish it so that I'm finally able to do my internship and start earning some money.

Speaking of money, tomorrow I start a new baby sitting gig. It's just casual sitting, for a family with three kids. I'm hoping it all works out, then I'll be working for them once or twice a fortnight. Coupled with the baby sitting I already do, and the tutoring, as well as the fact that the people I already sit for are passing on my details to some of their kids' friends' parents, I'm looking pretty set for the rest of this semester, fingers crossed. And all those Baby Sitters Club books I devoured as a kid are finally starting to pay off.

Also, even in their worst tantrums, dealing with kids isn't anywhere near as bad as dealing with douche customers and colleagues...

My Poor Little Neglected Bloggie

Oh Blog, I'm so sorry to have abandoned you. Life just caught up with me and I've been a whole lotta busy.

Since I last blogged, which was a million years ago (literally, not figuratively), I have changed. A lot. My last blog was about me being asked if I'd like to go back to Chicago, all expenses paid, for six months. Um, heck yes I would! But it just came at such an inconvenient time, and I was already a bucket full of crazy, then the thought of having to spend an extra six months at uni in the degree that never seems to end, and the fact that my scholarship people didn't think travelling overseas was a good enough reason to defer for a semester had me deciding to stay.

Then the crazy spilt over the bucket anyway and I spent a month being all hermity in bed, thus failing most subjects for the semester and having to do another six months at uni anyway. But that's OK. I'm back to enjoying uni again, and enjoying life (for the most part) and six months is really a drop in the water when you consider that I'll probably be on this career path for the rest of my life.

Another thing that's happened: I've taken up hobbies! It's all very exciting to actually have hobbies. I've always hated that question, "What are your hobbies?" What do I answer with? "Erm... shopping? Eating? Reading? Sleeping?" But now I can answer with, "Oh, my hobby is just generally being a nanna: knitting, sewing, crocheting. General nanna-y-ness." It's very fun and has been so theraputic. And stressful. Because I always tend to be finishing things at the last minute. Giving hand-made presents seems like a good idea, and it is. BUT, it turns out that deciding to hand make a present, and deciding what to make, actually aren't half the job. For my grandmother's birthday, which was at the beginning of February, I decided to make her a crocheted blanket. I'm still working on it. It's the perfect size at the moment for your lap, and only if you don't want to actually warm your lap up. I'll get there eventually, I'm sure. But I'm still enjoying it all in the meantime.

In a few weeks' time I'll be unemployed due to the store I work in being shut. When I got back to Australia last year I went back to work at that book store. You know, that major chain of bookstores that has gone into administration, which I cannot name due to the effing ridiculousness of the company ( I am SO going to get sued). It's both bitter sweet, this closing. On the one hand, I attempted to quit that bitch back in December due to the management being a bunch of fucktards. Somehow, I wasn't able to (how???) and they convinced me to stay on for just one (miserable) day a week. And now it's closing, and I'm like, "Suck it! You stupid wankers are all unemployed now. I hope it was worth jumping on that sinking ship." But on the other hand, I've been at that place for over three years (minus the overseas hiatus), made myself a little family from there (barely any of which are still working at the store), and, until the last few months, was actually pretty happy being there.

I guess it's like any break up where you start remembering all the good things about the relationship and forget the reason you broke up in the first place - because the other party is a douche.