I'm wising up to the insidious nature of online subscriptions.
Buy something. Get signed up for a subscription which you barely know you're doing. Forget about the subscription. Get stung for an amount of money you hadn't budgeted for. Get stuck with a service or product you don't want or need.
Today's case in point - Adobe. I don't have an Adobe licence. I don't mind paying for a limited licence for a short time, like today, when I needed Adobe to make some changes to a PDF file. This isn't something I do often, but rather than find a sub-par online cheap fake, I may as well sign up for a week's trial for a dollar. Makes sense to me. My document gets updated quickly and easily with the good software, then the licence goes away.
WRONG
They've also signed me up for a monthly subscription, not only for the Adobe suite, but their AI offering too.
I just need to fix a document. Sheesh. A ten-minute job. They want me to pay $30 a month for the Adobe, and another $12 a month for the AI.
Thankfully, it was caught in time. Once I'd done the task, I logged back into the Adobe website, cancelled the two subscriptions, made sure I had emails saying the subscriptions were cancelled, and then breathed a sigh of relief.
It just seems more and more vendors are signing you up for these subscriptions. The Adobe crew were thankfully very upfront about the subscription. Not every purchase is like that. Often the first thing you know that you've been signed up for one of these subscriptions is when the funds come out of your account.
One of the best gifts I've ever received is a voucher for the Wheeler Centre. "The Wheeler Centre?" you ask. It's a hub dedicated to books, ideas and writing, where writers and their audience can connect. Just must sort of place.
The voucher was a regift - my friend's daughter received it from her work, she gave it to her mum, and her Mum passed it on to me - for which I will be eternally grateful.
What nobody tells you is that writers are great people who tell fantastic stories and can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles. The Wheeler Centre regularly puts authors in conversation with other writers, who sit down and chew the fat, normally about the author's new book and the themes within.
Every time I come away from these sessions absolutely blown away, not only by the ideas, but the generosity extended by the authors. Most times I'll come away from with a book as well. I mean, it would be rude not to. Besides, it's not hoarding if it's books.
So, this last week, I ended up using the last of this voucher. Last Tuesday was the talk at the Town Hall with Magda Szubanski. Last Thursday was the launch of Carrie Tiffany's new book, The Lady with the Dog, in conversation with Helen Garner. Last night I got to see Andrew O'Hagan talk with Marieke Hardy about his new book, On Friendship - a series of essays on the subject.
What gets me is how generous these writers are. They delve into their own lives, their ideas and their processes. They provoke thoughts and emotions. They inspire and entertain. They make me feel like I can write a book too.
I've already written about Magda Szubanski's wonderful session at the Town Hall. She is a true legend and icon.
Carrie Tiffany is an old teacher of mine. Her writing is amazing. Like Claire Keegan, the Irish writer, she writes small books with a huge impact. Being in the same room as Helen Garner is also very special. They launched the book with the snap of a Scotch Finger biscuit. Very Carrie. Very cool. It's always good to connect with other writers.
Andrew O'Hagan is a Scottish writer from great Glasgow. I could sit and listen to him for hours. His latest book, On Friendship, is a collection of essays on the greater theme of friendship. O'Hagan appears to be a man very skilled at friendship. He spoke of many friends, of how making people feel seen, of holding presence, of being there, and friendship's ability to morph, grow and disappear is unique to all friendships as one of the wonders of the world. It was a wonderful talk.
I bought a copy of his last novel, Caledonian Road. I've read a couple of his books - Mayflies, which looks at the end of a special friendship, is a great, thought-provoking read. As he was doing a signing, I popped up. May as well say hello, and thanks for his wonderful work.
"It's lovely, to meet you," he said as he held out a hand.
"And you, though we have met before."
"Yes, you were here at a writer's festival 25-years-ago. I was volunteering and I drove you from the hotel down to the venue. You were texting Zadie Smith. You're one of my best author stories." (This goes down with being stuck in traffic with David Malouf and saying to Graeme Blundell that my father would be very pleased I got to drive around Alvin Purple.)
O'Hagan exudes the air of the incredibly decent man.
The curse of our block has struck this side of the driveway.
It came as a text message from my downstairs neighbour yesterday morning. It appears someone finally looked into the faint gas smell you'd occasionally detect in the stairwell.
"Hey Pand, they've shut off the hot water. It seems whoever did the recent repairs botched it and we're lucky the whole thing didn't blow up."
Joy.
When you think about it, we're spoiled. Generations, eons even, have done without hot water. I know that my grandparents would have had to manually heat water daily for bathing and other household jobs.
We've just gone soft. I've gone soft. The hot water in this flat has always been good and reliable. There was no notice that the hot water service might blow up the units.
Regardless, it's been over 24 hours since we've had hot water in the flat. I've got very good at boiling the kettle. The dicky bird bath, as my mother used to call it, has become my best friend.
Thankfully, it's not too cold at the moment. Filling up the bathroom sink with hot water, give yourself a sponge bath, when quickly rinse off with the cold before giving yourself a wipe over with the last of the warm water. It's not ideal, but it does the job.
There's always a shower at the gym.
I might be able to bum a shower off friends.
We've just received the following from the body corporate:
So, there's nine flats without hot water. Mine is one of them.
Speaking to the downstairs neighbour, it once this has all passed the committee, this probably isn't going to happen until sometime next week.
I just have to remind myself that I'm lucky to be off work, I have an active gym membership, understanding friends and a working kettle. Also, as a tenant, I don't have to pay for this.
I tell myself it's a first world problem. But an annoying one, for somebody who normally showers twice a day.
I am part-Virgo, therefore, my life revolves around lists. I'm also ADHD, which means if it doesn't make the list, there is a good chance the activity will fall into the ether, never to be seen again, and even then, it might not get done.
The lists have different ranks of importance.
There's my daily must-do list which is in place while I'm between jobs:
An hour of exercise
An hour of job hunting
An hour of cleaning / spring cleaning / household chores
And an hour of writing
It means things fall into a routine and I feel like I've accomplished something.
With the cleaning there's the ten things rule - can I list ten things that I've done, or put away, or sorted out. It's amazing how much can get done this way (I'm on thing number five at the moment).
I've got list of things that need to be done at the temple. While I'm off and we're between cleaners, I may as well get paid for doing the job - it's well overdue - and it's a big job:
Bathroom floors (upstairs and down)
Clean the toilets (5 in all)
Clean the sinks in the bathrooms
Dust all the surfaces in the bathrooms
The kitchen floor
The kitchen surfaces.
Mop the stairs.
Mop out the dining rooms.
All surfaces in the dining room
Hoover the temple (downstairs)
Dust all of the seats in the temple (and there are lots of them)
Hoover the temple (downstairs)
Dust all of the seats in the temple (and there are lots of them)
Hoover the office.
Dust the office.
And I know I've forgotten something - however, being fizzy of brain, I've not got to this yet, mainly because the procrastination that comes from my brain asking:
Where do I start?
Do I maybe do certain rooms at a time?
What am I going to listen to while cleaning?
Is my bluetooth speaker charged up?
What if somebody is trying to get me?
Should I do this in one day or spread it over a couple (there is not rush)
What about parking?
Will this blow up my hoover?
Does this mean I can get something from the bakery down the road?
And how do I stop the side quests which might have me sitting in the office doing ritual?
Putting all of this down has helped a lot. I've done the job hunting today, I'm seeing Cleo the trainer tonight and I've done a heap of washing and ironing, so I'm well down the list. I've also:
Contacted the estate agent about the roaches
Rage-baited the cat
Read some of my novel (while rage baiting the cat)
Whined about the fact the hot water has been turned off and having to take a dicky bird bath
Interviewing is hard enough. Interviewing for a computer screen is diabolical.
As a part of my daily looking for work effort today had me firing off an email to a contact a friend had provided, sent in a couple of applications to jobs that seemed half suitable and procrastinated about this online video interview.
Yes, this is my scatter gun approach to finding work, but you never know when your CV might get in front of the right person giving you an opening into the right job.
But I procrastinated about the video interview. I took down the recycling. I went for a long walk. I read my book. I did some crochet. And I avoided the looming 9 p.m. deadline for this interview. I'd only had three passive-aggressive emails to do the bloody thing.
(Okay, I'll admit, I'm not overly enamoured with the company - but this is good for the interviewing skills).
I finally got back from my walk, I showered, brushed out my hair, put on a bra and sat down in front of the computer.
Sure, I get why some companies want to do their preliminary interviews this way - stock questions, you get to do what I call the 'two-headed check" making sure that whoever is in front of them is basically presentable. However, it's very impersonal. You're introduced to the process by an AI generated talking head, then you get on with the questions - on which you're given between one and three minutes to answer. You also get to chance to review and re-record, if necessary.
If I'm honest, it's probably not the job for me - mainly the sector is one I've not worked for - not that this stops me for applying. At the end of the day, it's an experience and if I get through to the next round, we'll see what happens.
Regardless, this isn't my favourite way of interviewing. It's incredibly impersonal. You can't ask questions. You don't build a rapport with the people you have to win over. Sorry, it's not for me.
Anyway, onwards I say. I'll be working soon. The right thing will come along. All will be well.
I keep reminding myself that I've only been 'between jobs' since Wednesday evening.
Strangely, I'm looking forward to a bit of time off work. My contract ended on Wednesday, so I'm officially between jobs. A job will come, and come soon, so it's best I enjoy the downtime - not that my downtime looks quiet and boring - I have too much to do, if I'm being honest.
2. What do you wish you had more time for?
I want to make more time to dedicate to finishing these bloody novels. I must stop procrastinating about this.
3. What would like to do less?
Procrastinate.
4. What do you spend too much money on?
Stupid shit on the internet. As I'm keeping a tight rein on what I'm spending at the moment, it's taking every fibre of my being to stop the dopamine spending. I'm doing pretty well. Long may it continue.
5. What childhood wish never came true?
I always wanted to meet Prince Charming and get married. I've not achieved either, but that's led to an interesting life. You have to see this as a good thing.
6. What did you do to celebrate your last birthday?
Ah, nothing. We had book group at the pub the night before, and on the day of my birthday, I had a very quiet day at work, then got tortured by my trainer at the gym in the evening. I wanted a quiet one, so it was fine.
7. What drives you nuts?
Here's a list:
Tinnitus
When you run out of milk in the evening and there's not enough left for your morning coffee.
Loopy people who sit next to you on the tram (I'm a loopy person magnet)
Negative people
Overly critical people
People who are rude to service staff
People who drive and don't use their indicators
Slow walkers
Should I go on?
8. What keeps you sane?
Friends, books, movies, long walks, my cat, exercise, talking, my psychologist, limiting alcohol - among other things
9. What historic date is etched in your memory?
More a time, the first three months of 2011 were pretty awful. There was the big Christchurch earthquake, Cyclone Yasi, the Japanese earthquake - big global events which were on the telly and were hard to watch - especially as I was home waiting to find a job. I had to stop watching the news.
16 December 2015 was the day my niece passed away from leukaemia. That was just tragic.
10. What one thing would make your life immeasurably better?
Possibly a GLP-1 that isn't expensive and doesn't make your hair fall out, but that's not going to happen.
There could be an extra day in the week, with an extra two hours in the day that I could put aside for reading and writing.
1) I did not get a good sleep last night - no idea why.
2) I love my podiatrist. The fact that I have a podiatrist is a bit scary, but I only see her once a year for a 'clean up'. Regardless, she's better than the dentist.
3) I met an old colleague for a catch up to discuss a possible role. We were there for an hour and a half. it was lovely to reconnect.
4) Being the swat that I am, I dropped off my spent coffee pods at the Nescafe shop in town. I feel virtuous.
5) I went to go for a write in the library only to find my iPad was out of juice and no charging cable was to hand.
6) A lovely massage was later today. I'm going back to the practice next week to see the acupuncturist to try and get rid of a small but irritating issue.
7) And now the massage has left me a big puddle, so I'm going to go to bed.
