A Sad Day...

My post has a different tone today. It has been a sad day for my family. We have said goodbye to our family cat, Tiddles. She was eleven.

You can see her above, before she got sick. It was cancer that took her life. Skin cancer, as she was a pure white cat, so her fur provided little sun protection. (We did put sunscreen on her, but being a cat she cleaned it off. And we did try to keep her out of the sun but it was quite difficult and the damage was done...)

Like all of our family pets, Tiddles was quite unique. There are so many stories I could tell you...

My great-grandmother picked her out of the litter and she named her Tiddles. My mum, sister and I all lived with my great-grandmother, Nanny, after my parents seperated. My Dad hates cats, so we were never allowed to have one until then.

Nanny was in her late 70s at the time and spent alot of time in bed, due to illness. Nanny was quite thin and didn't have alot of, um, junk in her trunk, so to speak (unlike me, I have junk to spare) and she often sat on an inflatible doughnut cushion. It looked like this one:

Except it was red...

Anyway, when Nanny would get up during the night (or even during the day actually) to go to the toilet Tiddles would come from wherever she was sleeping and curl up in the middle of the doughnut pillow. Because Nanny had obviously made it all warm and cosy, plus it was the perfect size for Tiddles to curl up in.

So Nanny would come back from the bathroom and see Tiddles curled up asleep in the doughnut pillow. Naturally, Nanny would want to move Tiddles so she could get back into bed. But Tiddles would have none of it! How dare Nanny want her bed back? She got up and left it for the taking! So Tiddles was... less than co-operative and would swipe at poor Nanny. And Nanny’s skin was paper thin, as happens as people get older, so Tiddles could do quite some damage. So Nanny would have to call Mum to come and save her from Tiddles. It was quite funny, really (even Nanny thought so, I think). And it happened so often.

Then, more recently, when my boyfriend, Chris, and I were flooded out of our (rented) house (after the Newcastle storms in June ’07) and went to stay at my Mum’s place with our two puppies and kitten; Tiddles was quite put out.

Tiddles was not at all happy that we had invaded her home with three little animals. And she showed us this quite clearly. She would chase the puppies away from her favourite places and then claw the carpet to show her disgust. And she would stare at them menacingly. As they are miniature Maltese puppies; they are quite small. They were around one and a half kilos of white fluff, where Tiddles was quite a large cat at around seven kilos. My Mum would say to the puppies “watch out for the big white tiger” as we imagined that’s what she seemed like to them.

During the month we stayed there, Tiddles spent a lot of time upstairs in my sister’s room enjoying the solitude she used to have in the whole house. My sister had just gotten her first queen sized bed (upgraded from a single bed) and had some stuffed animals on the bed. One was a little puppy that looked a lot like my puppies, Lola and Mimi. When I had been in my sister’s room, checking out her new bed, I had commented that the toy was the spitting image of Lola and Mimi, our Mum thought so too.

You see, the toy looked something like this one...



While Lola and Mimi looked just like this...


(Ok, Lola (wearing the purple collar, on your right) looks a little dopey because I woke her up to take this photo...)

One night we came home to find the little puppy toy at the bottom of the stairs. My three animals had been in the lounge room while we were gone and Tiddles was asleep upstairs on my sister’s bed.

My sister thought Mum or I had put the puppy there as a joke. We hadn’t. My sister put it back in her room.

The next morning the toy puppy was back at the bottom of the stairs. All the humans in the house swore they hadn’t moved it. That only left..... Tiddles.

We’re not sure why she kept doing it. (She did it many times). My Mum thinks it was some kind of warning to the puppies like: “Don’t invade my space further by coming up the stairs” or “I hate you being in my house, leave now” or something like that (it’s difficult to interpret the message she was sending).

Even after we moved out, when I would visit Mum with Lola and Mimi, Tiddles would bring the toy puppy down and leave it on the stairs. Warning us. The white tiger has spoken...

She will be missed. Very much. But I am pleased we have so many fond memories of her. I don’t know how to grieve. I definitely don’t do it well, but knowing she will never be forgotten makes me feel just a little bit better.

As a friend said "I'm sure she's in a better place now, but she'll always be in your hearts". So true.

In my mind; Tiddles is now in Heaven with Nanny, waiting for Nanny to get up so she can curl up in the doughnut pillow again.

Thankyou Tiddles for being such a special part of our lives xxx

I really cannot believe I am posting about this idiot...*

I just read something that pretty much sums it up - "whether you like him or not, party boy Corey Worthington just won't go away".

Unfortunately, no he won't.

If you want to read more about this go here or here. Because I don't have much to say about this idiot. I certainly won't be promoting anything he is doing.

I feel he has given people my age (and younger) a bad name for making a complete idiot of himself and then being proud of what he has done. Then people continue the stupidity by publicising what he has done and is doing. I am ashamed that he is a young Australian. I hope I never see him in person because I might not be able to resist the urge to slap him silly.**

But I must say I understand why he continued to wear the stupid outfit he considers some kind of trademark.

Because he actually looks like this.
So he is stupid, annoying and unattractive. The trifecta, really. His parents must be so proud.

* I have used the words idiot and stupid where I wanted to use much stronger words. Swear words. But I am a lady...

** I do not condone, support or encourage physical violence in any way. I don't believe it solves anything. I wouldn't actually slap him. But I might want to. For all the good it would do...

If you don't think they're cute, well there just might be something wrong with you...

So our 5 month old kitten Pixie is totally gorgeous. Even when she is being annoying she is cute. Like at 4am when she meows at our bedroom door because she is awake so why aren't we? Or when we are trying to tie our laces on our joggers an she thinks it's a game. Or when she eats all the dog food because she is just such a little pig. It's annoying, but cute. She's just that cute. See, here she is napping on her Hello Kitty blanket...

And it got my thinking about when our other three pets and how gorgeous they were when they were babies. Of course they're still totally gorgeous, but there's nothing as cute as a puppy or kitten, have a look for yourself...

This is baby Sassy outside on her lead...

This is baby Lola lying on the cool floor (on a hot day)...

This is baby Mimi under the coffee table after she had destroyed one of Sassy's toys (that's the bit of red in her mouth)...


And this is a great shot of baby Sassy enjoying her scratching post before the puppies destroyed it...

The puppies loved to play with the scratching post and the next photo explains how they destroyed Sassy's favourite thing about the it (because she has never actually used the scratching post to scratch; just to play and sit on, or in). Also notice how the other puppy is rolling around inside the scratching post...

So tell me honestly; do you think they're cute?

THIS JUST IN : We had a traumatic pet incident today involving Lola. She was having trouble breathing and naturally I wasn't home at the time. My boyfriend rang me to say he was rushing her down to the vet and to meet him there. As soon as we got to the vet's she was so nervous that her breathing difficulty seemed forgotten. But then the wheezing started again. Plus she had a temperature, poor baby. She looked so scared; her eyes are really expressive. The vet checked her out and gave her a needle to make her feel better. We still don’t know exactly what was wrong, but the main thing is that she is ok. Phew. Crisis over.

At least this was slightly better than the traumatic pet incident on Christmas Day involving Mimi. That involved the emergency vet and was much more co$tly.

This is another reason I feel pets are a good warm-up to having children. They prepare you for the stress. And the co$t. Read more about my theory here.

Some Things That Define Me...

So I’m a huge fan of Facebook. I blame Mia Freedman for getting me hooked on it. Read how Mia did it here.

Well it was Mia and my friends who had MySpace, before I had worked out what it was and how to join it, abandoned MySpace and that decided Facebook was now cooler and that I HAD to get on there. And get on there I did...

I added applications like crazy, joint way too many groups and causes and annoyed all my Facebook friends by sending them endless invites to the applications I had added. (Admittedly I just cleaned out my applications because my profile page was taking too long to load, annoying! And, in my defence, I had to invite a minimum amount of people (it used to be 20) so that an application will work.)

I even made my boyfriend join Facebook so my ‘relationship status’ had his name there. You know, so people would know I’m not single and looking to mingle (although I did get in trouble from my boyfriend when he first saw my profile page (before I made him join; before he really knew what Facebook was) and saw that I had on there that I’m “interested in men”. He thought that meant I was telling people I was looking for a man or something. Funnily enough, a close friend had the exact same conversation with her fiancé; when she made him join Facebook so her ‘relationship status’ would show him as engaged to him).

Anyway, I am a member of quite a few groups on Facebook... 50 to be, well that would be lying; my is Emma and I am a member of 102 different groups on Facebook. Yes, I’m serious.
At first I would just join any group I was invited to join. Unless it was offensive to me in some way. Like a group for killing puppies or something horrible; I would not join that.

But I have actually left quite a few groups. I know, hard to believe I’ve left any, but I have. And I found that the groups I stayed in sort of illustrated a part of my personality, or represented a life experience I’ve had, or support something I believe in, or unite people who are fans of something I love, or connect people who share an opinion I have ... I liked the idea that the groups I’m a part of sort of defined me.

Oh and in my frenzy to join groups that express part of who I am I was frustrated to see that there were not enough groups to cover all of what makes me, me. So now I am the proud creator of 6 groups. Yes, I said proud. But more about that another time.

So I thought I would write about one of the groups I am a member of and why it defines part of who I am. Because the title of the group doesn’t always explain it all. The group I’ve chosen to talk about is one I will soon be leaving, I’ll explain why soon, but it represents a significant period of my life and some of the frustrations I experienced in that time. The group is called – 'I'm a waitress, not a fucking mind reader!'

And the group description says this:
“For all of those waiters and waitresses out there sick to death of all those annoying customers who presume just because you wield an almighty pen and pad you also have the incredible mind reading skills of a psychic and know exactly what they mean when they order 'just a coffee' when actually they mean a triple shot latte with caramel syrup... Yes, of course I knew that what you really meant sir! Go fuck yourself.”

While I have been studying at university I have had to work in the hospitality industry. In other words, I have been a waitress for the past four years, so this group defines that part of my life, sort of.

To be honest, I didn’t hate waitressing. But I guess I didn’t love it either, that’s why I applied for jobs outside of the hospitality industry recently when I was looking for work. (Also, I have been offered a full time customer service job (which I have accepted) in an office environment (i.e. not in the hospitality industry!) which is why I said I will soon be leaving this group; I won’t be a waitress anymore!).

Firstly, I was good at my job when I was a waitress. I don’t say that to give myself a wrap or to big note myself in some way, but I do feel I did a good job and I think it’s ok for me to say that honestly. But I will also say that I don’t think it is very difficult to be a good waitress. It’s not really that hard. I wouldn’t compare it to being a doctor or a builder or a teacher or an animal tamer or a mechanic... There are skills that you need to be a good waitress – a certain amount of organisation, a good memory, being customer focused, being able to relate to people, some confidence, and you need to be able to read and write – but these aren’t skills that compare to the skills needed for the other jobs I listed, in my opinion anyway.

But, although I was good at my job, I did find, as the group description says, that some customers were quite rude and did expect their waitress to be a mind reader. Now there’s a difference to expecting someone to be competent enough to serve you in a restaurant and expecting them to read your mind. I am someone who expects a level of competence from a waitperson; but I do not expect them to read my mind.

For example;

It is a Saturday night (usually the busiest night of the week) and six people walk in at 6:30pm requesting a table (the busiest time is usually around 6:30-7:30pm).

They have no booking.

The waitstaff pull two tables together to accommodate them and seat the six people.
A drink order is taken.

When the waitress* brings their drinks back she asks if they are ready to order a starter.

They inform the waitress that they haven’t looked at the menu yet because they have been talking.

The group is made up of three couples that haven’t seen each other for awhile and are catching up, they say.

The waitress says she’ll give them a few minutes to have a look and then she’ll come back.

In about five minutes she comes back again to get the order for a starter.

The group have still not looked at the menu, they have continued to talk.

The waitress had realised this but had come over anyway, to prompt them to order as she knows that there are a number of bookings for 7pm (usually the most popular time for bookings) that will soon be arriving and she needs to put this groups’ order in before they come in order to ensure the flow of service for the whole restaurant (and to help the kitchen).

So to aid this group she goes through the starter options for their benefit, as they will obviously not be reading the menu too quickly.

Then one lady at the table declares she had a late lunch and doesn’t want a starter.

Another asks how big the mains are to determine if she wants a starter.

The waitress explains that the size of the mains does vary depending on what is ordered but she does indicate the average size of the meals.

The third lady declares that she doesn’t think they need starters.

As often happens, the men at the table are happy for the women to make the decisions so nothing is said; therefore no starters are ordered.

So the waitress asks if the group would like some time to have a look at the main meals on the menu.

The women of the group say, no, that they will decide while the waitress is there as they think they can decide quickly.

This is never the case.

Eventually all six people have ordered main meals and another round of drinks.

The orders are put into the kitchen and the kitchen gets started on making the meals.

The second round of drinks are delivered and the table is left to socialise while their meals are prepared.

About five minutes after the table had put in their order someone from the table signals for their waitress to come over.

The waitress approaches the table and asks if there’s anything they need (while she is thinking they shouldn’t need anything as their drinks are fresh and there food has been ordered and should be coming in a little while).

They ask how long their meals are going to be because

THEY HAVE TICKETS TO A SHOW THAT STARTS AT 7:30PM AND WILL NEED TO LEAVE BY 7:15PM AT THE LATEST!

And this is the first time they have mentioned it.

The waitress firstly has to hide her shock and annoyance and then has to rush into the kitchen to pass on this new information.

They kitchen staff are, of course, annoyed at the waitress for not passing this on earlier!

Of course, the table expect to get their meals quickly now and are annoyed if there is a slight hold up.

They may leave on time, after rushing to finish their meals, but don’t seem happy.

They believe it is the waitress' fault that they are not happy...

This kind of thing was not at all uncommon. It is just one example of customers expecting their waitperson to have read their mind. It is very frustrating to the wait staff, but the annoying thing is the customers are the ones that are allowed to show their frustration that the wait staff didn’t anticipate the situation and act accordingly. The wait staff, on the other hand, are required to remain professional and work harder to ensure the customers are satisfied after they have dropped their bombshell, all the while hiding their own frustration.

So that is how this group on Facebook applies to my life. Hope you found my little story (rant?) at least interesting, or slightly entertaining.

There is a book (that I haven’t read, but intend to) about this sort of thing called ‘Turning Tables'. Find out more here.

*The waitress in this story was actually me.