You Can't Silence Sojo!

Mwaahahahahahaha.

Although I am unable to access gmail, I can get onto my blog.
Silly, silly slave—I mean, cruise—ship. They’ve underestimated how much I like talking about myself and my deep-seated need to share my emotions in a public format.
Today is my first full day. I got in at a quarter to 9, and was shocked and disappointed to find that everyone else was already here. I mean, it’s a Friday, guys? What happened to that laid back Aussie work ethic?! You work for a cruise line for goodness sakes—why aren’t you cruisey*?!
The day has gone relatively slowly, but after asking if I could be of assistance, I decided to use the down time to work on an article I’ve been procrastinating on for ages. I actually got it to a point that’s acceptable, and I’ve decided that the score is: THE MAN – 0, BLACKTRESS – 1.

After handling my own scandal I got down to handling the cruise ships’. This basically consists of sorting mail that passengers and crew will pick up when they arrive in Sydney, as well as scheduling doctor’s appointments and reserving hotels for crew between landing and embarking on their next voyage. Luckily, I have an excellent telephone voice, and had a great chat with a man at a certain hotel chain who didn’t speak much English. Every time he went to check something, instead of saying, “Please hold,” he would say, “Please may I hold you a moment?”
Yes. The answer that question is always yes.

My dear sweet Kewpie doll boss is very low-key, and always starts each task with, “Sojourner, when you get a moment, can you….?” Even if I’m sitting there picking a hangnail.

Um, yes, yes I can start that posthaste.
I guess I could start gearing up for the weekend, but the weather here is wretched! WTF, y’all?! It’s supposed to be summer time and the livin’ is supposed to be easy! It’s been 60 degrees, rainy and windy. In other words: it’s a cold mess. I’m tempted to just stay in tonight with a bottle of wine and some good eats, but then remembered that there’s nothing good to watch on TV, and that wine sometimes makes me cry—awkward! But it’s also really dreary and no one lives near me, so I’m not sure what to do. And it’s hard to look cute when you’re damp, you know?

Okay, better get back to this spreadsheet.
Good times!


For more on the concept of cruisiness, look here.

Temporary Insanity

Blacktress' Log, Star Date 12 February 2009.

Yesterday I got a phone call from Oliver, from Escalibre, a temp agency I'd signed up with over a month ago. I had my initial interview with Oliver, a dreamy blonde Brit with a dry humour. Most of our 50-minute interview just involved cracking jokes and talking about my time in Sydney thus far.

After getting mad bored with no temp gigs showing up, I started stalking Oliver much in the manner of a schoolgirl who has just lost her virginity to an asshole jock. I called regularly, trying to sound breezy, but subtly pressuring him for any job offers. Like the cool cad he is, he would totally make a couple of funnies, get me all comfortable, then take an emotional scythe to my throat as he told me there were no jobs available.

I finally realized that I couldn't force him to love me--I mean, find me work. So I decided to play it cool. And it turns out that good things do come to those who wait. And it is darkest before the dawn, and all that other crap.

I got a call to come in and work for a prominent cruise ship company, which will remain nameless just in case someone on staff likes to Google him/her/hirself when no one's looking. Of course, when I was first told I'd be working for a cruiseline, my reaction was two fold:

1. Will I be performing great diva hits on the Lido deck nightly at 7pm? I'll do anything but Etta James, as she's liable to cut a blacktress.
2. Ship...ship...ship...why does that fill me with dread? Oh yeah--SLAVERY!!!
Where are you taking me, Oliver?!

Clearly I overreacted.

I got in today at 10:30 am, where I was greeted by a smiley HR woman, who found it funny that I didn't want to look at my ID photo before it was printed. I mean, hello, business casual and chunky sweater--what's there to see? Any way you slice it, it's a hot mess.

I was then handed over to Sarah, who doesn't look a day over 12. In fact, she looks like a kewpie doll.

Imagine this doll dressed in a cardigan and A-line skirt, and give her a ponytail. That's my boss.

Luckily, she's as sweet as she looks and today was pretty low-key, which was good. Of course being a member of the talented tenth, work was crazily easy, and I found myself wanting to check my email during a lull.
After typing in gmail.com, I was greeted with the most heinous image I have ever seen:

ACCESS DENIED
BLOCKED BY SURFCONTROL.

WTF?!

How the hell am I supposed to get through my day without gmail?! I got in at 10:45, had a 45-minute lunch, was practically kicked out at 5:15pm, and still got everything done that had piled up. Without the ability to procrastinate and psychoanalyze every letter of every email from Fred Weasley, I'm going to have to actually work. Quickly and efficiently.
Ew.
Then they'll realize I'm kind of bright and probably give me responsibilities or something.
This is not what I signed on for!

So, I'm calling out to you, readers. What can I do to procrastinate just enough that they don't want me to do extra things? Maybe I'll just stay up really late and go in so tired and lame that every task actually ends up taking 2 hours to complete.

Questions, comments, suggestions?