Tweet Follow @sfitzyfly The people I meet everyday.: November 2012

Wednesday 28 November 2012

The Circle of Life.

There is nothing like the smell of a newborn baby's head. Even if you don't particularly like infants or children, there is nothing quite like that fresh scent that makes you smile. Apart from chocolate obviously - but that's a chemical reaction. Baby head smelling is just amazing.

I had the ultimate pleasure of meeting my niece for the first time, on Sunday night. She is beautiful of course, but I expected no less as I am related to her of course! All babies are gorgeous no matter what they look like. Their need to be held, and dependence on others for their formative months makes them vulnerable and innocent.

Even though my niece was only twenty-four hours old, she really did take your breath away - and that was nothing to do with the smell of the first few vicious nappies.

She was calm and quiet the entire time. My sister said that she had been like that since the moment she arrived into this world. She was very content and gripped you tight, still craving touch and contact. I sat happily for those two hours absorbing her innocence and fragility.

We all have to be reminded from time to time about the gift of life. I'm not getting all religious and pontificating like a self righteous eejit here. But while I snuggled up to the most recent addition of our extended family in the warmth of a maternity ward - my wife that morning had attended the removal of her good friend's father, in the cold space of a front room laden with heavy sighs.

It's only when you attend the funeral of someone you love, that you start to ponder your own mortality. It's only then when you start to wonder what you've done so far with your life. Have you wasted large chunks of it? Or have you actually made the most of your life so far?

I know I've wasted several parts of my life doing stupid stuff. Nothing illegal, but just plain damn wasteful at times. So as I'm about to turn 37, it ends now. Enough faffing around.

I'm not going to be more conservative nor adventurous. I'm not going to risk life and limb just to get a thrill. I'm just going to respect life and treat it like tomorrow may be my last. Although I hope that doesn't happen - as I have to get the car serviced next week and that car won't drive itself.

One death, one birth in the space of a day. Life is fleeting and precious - but we still have to enjoy it.

Finding the happy medium -  is that key to your own happiness.

Thursday 22 November 2012


Smelling Ignorance From A Mile Off.

When you do a job for quite some time, you get better as you gain more experience. Dealing with the public isn’t always easy, but as you encounter different situations and individuals, you become well versed in dealing with anything that comes your way.

I know what I’m good at. I think I know my limitations and what I can and can’t do. I apply the basic principle that my Dad used to say – “If you’re going to do a job, do it right.”

So when Joe Soap comes into your workplace and tells you how you should be doing your job (when you’re doing an excellent job) – it’s very difficult to bite the inside of your cheek and chalk it down to experience. It’s difficult to suppress the desire to tell him or her to go and take a short run and jump off a cliff - but you do, because you’re a professional.

That was my encounter with a charming ahem, gentleman, late last night.

Was this gentleman well educated in my role and procedure of work? No, he didn’t strike me as if he did.

Did he ever operate in the same role as me previously? No, I seriously doubt it.

Was I doing anything that I hadn’t ever done before? Nope.

Was I operating in my role as I had been excellently trained to do? Yes.

Was this gent being absolutely obnoxious for apparently no reason at all? Yes.

Did he seem like the type of eejit to talk down to people? Yes, indeed.

So late last night, as myself and a work colleague dealt with his idiocies, we went over why we are great at our jobs. The FBI should take profiling tips from us.

We both spotted him as a potential pain in the ass from the very outset.

He took way too long to sit down. He moved personal items of other people’s so that his personal stuff was directly above him. His wife was very easy to initially chat to – he wasn’t.

He never made eye contact – most polite people when meeting someone for the first time, look you directly in the face – he didn’t. He talked at me instead of to me.

He had basic manners, but it never ever sounded sincere in any way.

His shirt was ironed to within an inch of its life - as were his jeans. What typical Irish man ever irons a pair of jeans – like seriously? His hair was immaculately brushed and styled. His shoes were shined so much that the sheen from them nearly made the moon orbit his loafers for a while.

But the piece de resistance? He gave out about how we only had type of tonic instead of another he was used to drinking.

“If you’re a serious tonic drinker, you’d know the difference,” was a quote directly from the horse’s ass.

But as ever, both of us continued to bite our lips and remained utterly professional. Just because someone pays a fair wad of cash for a particular service, are they are entitled to give an opinion on something they know little or anything about? Do me a favour.

But I was tempted to Google him when I got home, just to see what he actually worked at. Then I would march into his office or place of work, and point out how he wasn’t doing things properly.

And that despite my complete lack of knowledge about his job, I knew best!

 

Sunday 4 November 2012

"I'm Irish! So am I! I am too!"

Last night, my wife and I were treated to a comedy show. Except we didn't have to pay for it. Or actually face the comediennes. We sat with our backs to three Stepford-type wives who talked so much verbal diarrhoea, that I near choked on my chicken with laughter.

We were in a favourite restaurant of ours, sitting at the long bar. We sit at the bar purely because we know a few of the staff well and have a bit of witty banter with them - whilst we eat and have a couple of drinks.

This restaurant is very popular, and it was a usual, busy Saturday night. Some people sit and have a drink before they are shown to their table, and this was where we encountered our three main protagonists.

We were treated to the atypical air kissing when they all arrived and greeted each other. Both of us looked at each other and wondered why we always seem to attract these type of eejits. We didn't talk to them, but we always seem to be around the very presence of fake people. Or maybe we can just spot them a mile off.

Anyhow, after the fur coats and ski jackets were removed, the bullshit spewed forth. The three men took seats at the bar whilst the women corralled themselves into a small diamond of chatter. My wife had the "what car are you driving now?" on her left hand side, as the men measured each other dicks by the size of their engines.

Directly behind us we had the triumvirate of one-up-manship beginning. These ladies were all in their forties and fifties, and well accustomed to Botox and house servants. Their nails and hair were coiffed to the utmost degree and the mix of three strong perfumes in close proximity to my dinner was making me gag a touch. The usual "you look great" kicked off the proceedings.

But the conversation was gold. It more than made up for my now-flavoured Chanel chicken and mash. They talked about their children firstly and constantly talked over one another. I was nearly awarding points in my head to each contestant, as they one-upped each other with outlandish tales and stories.

The next subject that was discussed was Hurricane Sandy and the affect it had on their immense properties. This was where they could really embellish. These ladies lived outside Boston, a good distance from where Hurricane Sandy did real substantial damage.

One said she had two trees down in the back garden - another said she had three down - but the last one had almost won the contest - stating she had lost slates off the roof, the picket fence and her two wheelie bins! Ding ding! I was just about to award her victory, but the first one then interjected with a stonewaller. 

She stated that some rival waste collection companies were stealing the competitions' bins in order to win contracts. Knockout blow! This was starting to get bitchy. This is where we both laughed at each other with our eyes in astonishment.

Then came the final topic - holidays. Where they were going to spend the New Year skiing and what destinations they were thinking about for next summer. One of them mentioned Ireland and we stopped eating and drinking. This could be good.

That's where the ladies stated the title above, and much hi-fiving started.

Had any one of them ever been to Ireland? No.

Had any one of them ever been outside the USA? No.

Did anyone of them possess passports? Yes - they all did to visit Mexico and Aruba. Not exactly far away from the USA.

Were any of their parents from Ireland? No.

Had any of them Irish-sounding names? No.

Did any of them have an "Irish" look about them? No.

I was going to turn around and quite proudly state the blindingly obvious, but I restrained myself.

Instead, we guffawed into our dinner until they shuffled away to their table. We pretended to be laughing at something else, without any of the women knowing we were giggling at their expense. It was pure comedy gold - even the bar staff were entertained by the stories.

We went for dinner but inadvertently got a free show thrown in. Great value altogether.

Phone Rant.

I think I'm fairly considerate toward others. I am normally kind enough to think of others when I don't have to.

Let me point out firstly, that I am not an anti-phone person. Mobile phones have changed the world dramatically in such a positive way that it is almost impossible to gauge how they have revolutionised the globe. They serve such an important role in communication around the world, that life and death can sometimes, be decided with a simple phone call.

But these calls are not important in a cinema. When you've been told at least three times to turn off your phone. For two hours of your life. How hard can that be?

I was lucky enough to go see the latest James Bond film, Skyfall, in London the other night. It was a fabulous film and I encourage anyone who hasn't seen it, to go. It tips a hat to the older Bond films whilst still being current and interesting.

I arrived late to the cinema and had to make do with a seat at the front of a small screen. I didn't mind as we normally sit near the front anyhow when visiting the flicks. I had two seats to myself until they obviously sold the seats around me to other latecomers.

I had seats vacant either side of me and plonked my jacket on one of them. I had two young ladies on one side and two young men on the other. They were all in their late teens and chomped their way on popcorn and nachos for the first half hour of the film. I didn't mind that at all, because normally I'd be the one chowing down hard on a big bucket of salted popcorn.

We were almost one hour into the film before I began to get distracted by the lights of the mobile phones either side of me. Initially, I didn't really care, as it wasn't that off putting. But the lights slowly became more bothersome and more frequent.

Then the young lady on my right started playing Tetris on her phone. Then the gobshite on my left was checking his newsfeed on Facebook. I ignored it for a few minutes thinking that they would stop after a minute or two and go back to watching the film. He did put it away, but she stayed on it for over ten minutes.

I made my impatience obvious and without being rude, told her in no uncertain terms to turn it off.

The effect was immediate. The young lad beside me knocked his phone off too. Two birds with one barbed comment.

When I go into a public place whether it be restaurant or cinema - I turn off my phone. I would like to think that people in there go into those establishments to get away from life for a while. To tune out, to chill out. To get away from hand held technology and talk to actual people or to be entertained by the big screen. 

Has the world changed so dramatically that the contact with your phone is addictive?

On the way out of the cinema, I was glared at with sour faces for speaking my mind. Was I wrong here?