A few things about work

As i enter into the third week of school, it's time to reflect...


Well, as everything has a good and a bad side, here we go.

Let's start with the good.

I, for the first time ever, have an office, a desk, an computer, a printer, phone, filing cabinets and all sorts of free office goodies given to me to do a job.
And as soon as they sort out my official title, my name -and my function in question- will go on the plaque outside my (our - i share with Gretta) office door. wow, how funny is that i ask you, i'm going to have a plaque with my lil'ol'name on it.

As you all know, i am easily amused/impressed. it's part of my charm.

Another good thing, I seem to be fitting in alright (seeing as i worked there last year) with the other english teachers, and with the other school staff. though, social graces have never really been a problem, as you all know.
This said, there is the french formal greeting thing that is causing me some confusion. French people every day, the first time you see someone, either shake hands or do the cheek-cheek oh-so-french bisous. Now, to get to the bisous stage is rather tricky. Almost as tricky as the Vous/Tu dilemma. I'm at the bisous stage with a few people, and at the hand shake with some others, then because i'm american and generally in a rush or going somewhere quickly, i forget to shake hands. So some collegues don't really know what to do with me.
Oh, in the end it'll all sort itself out.

Back to the good stuff.

I have a great situation, financial and professional. One of the reasons employment in France is such a touchy subject is because employers must pay a fortune to hire. and here's why. I have got an out'a control complementary insurance plan (the govt. does the basic insurance - socialism ladies and gentlemen), for which the school pays a lot more than i do to be able to offer it to me.

I have a life insurance plan - for something like one euro something per month. but if anything were to happen, my loved ones could buy themselves a nice small house.

I have school-subsidized restaurant vouchers. France has a system where companies pay a percentage of the total tickets and the employee pays the rest. So for example, every month i get 18 vouchers, each is in 7.50 euro denominations. That makes 135 euros to spend on restaurants, any restaurant i wish, each month. I pay 40 percent of the total cost and the school pays 60 percent. Get it? and yes it's a cool system. Consequently I'm becoming quite the regular at the indian restaurant three doors down. Four times already this month. Yum, yum, yum.

Gosh, what else. oh, a good enough situation for the banks to actually consider me and jd for a loan. you know, to like buy a place to live instead of throwing money down the drain on rent. However the search promises to be long and frustrating. anyway...

Oh, and according to the french system of "employment classifications" (of which nothing exists like it in the states - gotta love the french and their rigid structures) i have a more prestigous title/level of employment than jd. and i believe i make a smidgeon more than he does.
My feminist ego loves that.

Plus once a year, depending on the school's left over revenues, i get a bonus. Oh and this in addition to the French "thirteenth month". Although the "thirteenth month" is generally the same amount of income taxes i owe every year. So, it sounds like i live 12 months of the year on 13 months salary but actually, i live 12 months of the year on 12 months of salary.
Now, this of course sounds normal. However, many many many people here don't have that 13th month. So they, these poor unfortuante souls, live 12 months with only 11 months of salary. Ahhh france and their taxes.

And just the general, overall calm that comes with the same salary coming in every month. The antithesis of precarity if you will.

And last but not least Gretta. My boss/collegue/fellow american. The sweetest, most genuine, non-malicious person ever. She couldn't be snippy if she tried. She really goes the extra miles for her job and her students. And this in a country where people can seriously fuck off at their jobs and never get fired.
She is an american workaholic in a country of the-pleasures-of-life-come-first French people.
In addition to her veritable niceness, she is highly intellegent, she knows her job very well and knows how to maneuvre the staff of 13 english teachers plus all our other collegues. An excellent ally to have. Really a blessing for a collegue and office mate.
Oh and she has an eagle eye for detail. She is amazing and could have made a fortune as an editor. And this is supremely good because i, have never had an eye for painstaking detail. as we all know, spelling especially.

So, that all said: on to the darker side.

Because i work all day every day (like most of the world) I have just discovered grocery shopping on a saturday. Never again. I've learned that this needs to get done after work during the week.

The school takes a big brother approach to its employees and their mail. Apparently all the snail mail that comes in for us is opened and read. Do i need to go into how bothering this is?
And they apparently survey the websites we frequent. There will be no blogging at work then.

And here's my rationale - if they want to keep their people happy, and keep them at work all day every day, from time to time you need to let them do some internet shopping. No time to get to the stores means shopping on line. I mean when you need a washing machine who has time to brave the appliance stores on a saturday? because NOthing is open here on Sun. Day of god if you please. So, a washing machine or a shirt, whatever. And because you are at work all day, how can you get to the post office to get your stuff? Well, you have it delivered to your work address.
Apparently NOT!
This is not keeping your people happy. You, of course, don't want your boss/other employees knowing what you buy. Because they open it!
Crap i tell you, crap.
So all this to say, i will still internet shop, and still probably at work, but i will have everything inconviently sent to my home address, where i will have to rearrange my day to get to the post office by my house. (This is france, they have very skimpy hours)

And well, we have arrived at my collegue Gretta. Now, as i move on to the less than good side, let's not forget the good side.
Ahhh Gretta. well, the good side of the bad side is that she is very aware of her shortcomings. and she can even make fun of herself. which is key.
So here goes. She is a perfectionist. now again, the good side to this is that she holds herself to this level of perfection, not others. she is many times over more forgiving of others, but never to herself.
So ultimately the bad side is really for her alone. She is someone that lives on stress. She is someone who, for whatever reason, needs a level of stress to survive. Her overall habits and demeanor reflect this. She is teeny tiny skinny, but not short. She drinks ooodles of coffe and smokes just as much. (Thank god she doesn't smoke in our office). She deprives herself of calm. She suffers from chronic migranes, but works anyway. She takes home work all the time, and does it at home!

And for those who know me, stress and i don't get along. Stress make me shut down and get scattered. Stress really affects my bodily systems and mind. My 'being' is not built to handle stress.

So, I'm just wondering, how am i going to handle the close contact with stress bunny on a regular basis? Will i be able to hold it at arms length? or will the stress vibes affect my vibes?

And ultimately, i don't think it's the stress, the stress is just a symptom. I think it's hard to see someone choose to be so hard on herself. (Then again, maybe she's not 'consciously' choosing). It's hard to see someone deprive themselves of calm and positive reinforcement.

I personally am a big fan of patting myself on the back. Because i try to be honest with myself, when i can do better or change something i recognize it and go for it. but when the occasion calls, i can smile at myself. and do.
I don't see her being able to do this. Self-depravation is a dirty game to play.

Oh anyway. She's lived like this for so long. That's her. and no cause for alarm yet.


And as for the dark side. i do think that is it. so as you can see. more good than bad.
I win!

p.s. and when my plaque goes up, i'll take a photo of my office and my plaque.

i've found my way into a feudal situation

hiya,

well, even though we are the year 2006, i have in fact found myself in a mideval feudal situation.

I have aquaintences that have a chateau. (these are the people who wanted to have puppies with manteiga and their beautiful long haired german shepard; which didn't work) and, during the "heat" cycles and tentatives of December then August, i became quite chatty with their three girls.
The oldest Olivia is about 13, then there's Rosalie who's about 9, and then Capucine who is 7. all three are adorable enough to eat.
Yes, but they live in a Chateau (where the stone above the front door says 1763 -give or take a couple of years) and have horses, donkeys, a pair of peacocks, some chickens, a small chapel, the small guardian's house, an obscene amount of property and a couple of other small brick barns.
A chateau and everything that goes with it, in short.

Well, during the last canine fertilization tentative, i got to talking to Rosalie about vegetables, gardening and what have you. She said that they have a small vegtable garden but it has been left abandoned for a while because mom doesn't really like to garden. (Hence why they have a gardener)
I innocently ask if i can see it. and yes, it had been left abandoned long enough to let the weeds get waist high. When i first saw it i saw some bricks here and there which turned out to be a brick path down the middle.
I ask Valerie (the mom, the one who fell in love with my dog enough to ask me to pimp him out) if maybe i could pay them to use their land.
she says OK but needs to ask the man of the house (Dominic) about the details.

Off i go to the nearest hardware store to buy some heavy duty de-weeding equipement. and i de-weed. and oh gosh am i sore. so much so for two weeks that i don't even think about going to the gym. It took ages! and a lot of muscle but i did it. Nine by three meters of garden waiting to be used.
So, while i'm digging in and getting dirty, the man of the house (who is very nice) says that i don't need to pay anything, just buy my own tools and from time to time share what grows.

At first i thought great! free land! cool! because the tools weren't cheap.
then in retrospect, i see how the relationship is now rather fuzzy. what should i give? what do they expect? how freely are they going to help themselves? will they leave me alone and not judge what i'm doing? will they put in their two cents and expect me to oblige?
fuzzy is fuzzy, not exacly clear.
with the "i pay, you take my money" arrangement it's clearer.
Oh well, we'll see. they really are nice. i'm not too worried.

So yesterday i went to a fabulous nursery and bought bulbs. I planted some violet irises, two different varieties of tulip (one is dark dark violet with tinges of red at the base of the petals and the petals are a bit ruffled, and another which is soft pink with large abondant petals and a green flame shaped coloring on the base of the petals), and a red, blood red lilly.

In general i can't wait for spring but now, these are a super duper suprise! just waiting to happen.

i'll be taking photos later of my feudal plot of garden and the master's chateau. you really need to see this.

so, i have a garden, and am a feudal servant.

Freaky and Lucky

Hiya,

so yesterday as i go to open the passenger side door and throw my briefcase in, i notice that the passenger side door is ajar and unlocked. ooooh chills. i distictly remember closing it.
i open the door and notice the glove box is open, then i see that the plastic frame do-hicky around my radio is lying on the floor.
panic, heart starts beating loudly...
then i see that the radio is still there. (it's the kind where the face pops off, you know to discourage stealing) but i had to do a double take because without the face it's just a plastic rectangle. it took me a second to realize if it were gone there would be a gaping hole in the dash.

freaked out, because obviously they hadn't stolen the radio or anything else, i walk around the car and get in,
i then notice my seat is pushed way back - indicating the thief in question made himself comfortable while contemplating stealing my car radio.
i pull my seat back up, close the door and my reflex to grab the radio face kicks in,
so i reach down with my left hand into the sort of holder thing that's on the door and next to my seat and,
there it is. surprisingly not stolen.

Okay, here's the weird part, besides knowing someone was intending to steal my car radio,

1. he must be dim because when you shut the door you can hear that there is something in the door pocket when you shut the door. it rattles against the plastic.
2. thankfully he wasn't a very thorough theif because he could have stolen the cd's that are in my cd organizer on my passenger side visor. (i can kinda understand this however they don't sell these in france). but it would have been annoying, he would'a got my Hank Williams cd.
he also could have snatched mine and jd's cell phone ear pieces.
3. how comfortable did he get in my car? he pushed the seat back for cryin out loud!
4. just the general ickyness of not knowing what happenned. although i have a good clue, i am not as vigilant as i should be when it comes to locking our car doors. (i suppose evetually when i get a car with one of those electronic beepers that lock and unlock your doors this won't happen anymore)
5. and the last wierd thing? how much luck do i really have? WHEW!!!