Nothing ventured, nothing gained

I won a small battle this evening.  It may not mean I will win the overall war (not that there is one) but, this mini victory alone has taught me a lot.  That 'Christmas Bonus' idea has not fallen by the wayside.  Let me give you the back-story:

Recently, one of my friends posted on the dreaded f***book (as someone once called it) that he had got a Christmas bonus this year.  And I posted back, "I gotta get me one of those!"  And that gave me the idea of putting a 'Christmas Bonus' box on my table at meetings to see if meet-ees might want to contribute, in the same way that office workers get Christmas bonuses, so that I too, as a self-employed person could have a little bit of money to go towards a nice Christmas.  (Or at least help to cover the cost of losing money due to cancellations and people taking time off for Christmas.)

So I have been drafting an email to send to all my meet-ees to explain what this box on my table is all about and more generally, to thank them for coming to meetings with me and wish them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  In the spirit of 'Thanksgiving', I thought that it would be a nice way of introducing the idea that it's possible for people like me to get some kind of tip, if they think I've helped them this year, in the same way waiters and waitresses get tips.

So I got my good friend to help me translate it into Czech, knowing full well this isn't a Czech way of doing things at all.  It's just not done.  It's not 'Vogue', if you know what I mean.  And even though she thought it a little bit strange, she read my email in English and concluded that she thought it was brilliant.  She said she loved the line, "if you like my work, please feel free to give whatever amount you feel is appropriate."  And she kindly translated all of it.  She said she would be very interested to find out what happens.  (Me too.)

So, the real test before sending out emails came when I told the architect about this idea.  I knew he would be totally against it.  And initially he was.  "It's strange," he said, "it's not a Czech habit".  To which my response was, "It's not a British habit to learn Czech, and dedicate oneself to learning foreign languages but that's what I've been doing."  How limiting it would be if we all had to stick to the acceptable habits of the country we were born in.  Surely the whole point of my meetings is to inspire people about a different culture and open a door to a different way of seeing and doing things?

The architect required more convincing.  "You're going to ask them for more money? It's like begging on the street or something!" he said.  So I read him the email verbatim, about how I appreciate my meet-ees speaking English with me, I appreciate the opportunity to work with them and in that spirit, they should feel free to give whatever they feel appropriate.  But there's no obligation so if they'd rather not, that's absolutely fine.  There was a chink in his armour for a moment.  I reiterated that I was thanking them and wishing them a Merry Christmas.  I also reiterated that office workers get Christmas bonuses, so it's not a totally unheard of concept.  He began to crack.  

Eventually, the penny dropped.  This isn't an evil thing to do.  It isn't begging.  It isn't asking for too much without having given anything, it is just a slightly strange idea from an even stranger person.  No-one has to feel bad about it, because I'm not going to talk about it in meetings, and it's absolutely fine for meet-ees not to say a word about the email and pretend the box isn't even there.

As my grandma used to say, "nothing ventured, nothing gained."  What have I got to lose?  At the end of our conversation, the architect apologised and said, "actually, I think it's a good idea."  Those of you who've never even spoken to a Czech person will have no concept of the enormity of the impasse I just overcame with that one, but take it from me, that was a HUGE turn-around in attitude in one conversation.  And if I just won over the equivalent of an old-fashioned working class bloke with an "I ain't no charity case!"-type attitude, then anything's possible.  They may have tried to instill a 'don't get ideas above your station' attitude in me when I was growing up in a not dissimilar world to his, but, hell, maybe this is an idea below my station.  To quote a very famous, old film, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

New bakery and other reasons to be thankful

Welcome to another grey-skied Thursday in Praha.  

('Thanksgiving Day' for some, just another working day for me.) The reason for the lack of posts lately is down to working like crazy to fit in a drama workshop for three days, that cost quite a bit, as well as lost me a day and a half's wages.  So I've been working like a wheel-runnning hamster with an evening cage-cleaning job to just about recoup the expenses.  It's ok.  I've made back the money (just) but I haven't got the extra, better paid work from doing it that I'd hoped to get, so saving up for the inevitable down-turn of work in the lead-up to Christmas, taking time off for a visitor as well as being able to buy Christmas presents is still in question.  (As such, I haven't got a full day off today either, and I'm not just talking about having to do preparation work for tomorrow's epic day of back-to-back meet-ees from 12-19:30 with an extra meeting in the morning from 8-9.30.) 

I'm seriously considering putting a pot on my meeting table with the words 'Christmas Bonus' on it, in hope of some kind donations.  I fear this would just get laughed at though, because Czechs don't believe in giving tips.  At least, not to people like me.  While feeling sorry for myself about all of this, I did at least treat myself to a book via amazonmarket place.  (Thanks to a certain donation from a loyal reader, which I've been careful not to spend all in one go!  You know who you are!  Thank you!)  I was pleased to discover the seller is actually Oxfam books.  So I've contributed to a charity this week.  Isn't that good?

Anyway, I wanted to get out today, while I had a bit of time, so I ventured out to the newly opened 'Paul's' bakery around the corner.  Yes, it has finally opened TODAY!  So, I went along to get myself a pain au chocolat and a croissant, to 'test out'  (for research purposes only, of course) their wares.  

A pain au chocolat is called a 'čokoládová rolka' here though, which just seems funny, somehow.  And I was lucky enough to get served by a reasonably friendly member of staff (quite a find among the usual grumpy types here in the Czech Republic) and I even got a discount on the croissant!  Along with a flyer with a 'free coffee if you spend more than 50Kč' offer on it.  So I'll probably be making friends with these people, as money and trying not to end up the size of a house dictates...

In the meantime, I purposely set aside a tiny bit of 'me' time today to flick through the Czech Marie Claire I got yesterday (buying a Czech version is a third of the price of an imported UK or US one) and I'm actually quite impressed with their fashion pages this time.  They've still got a few silly articles in there that I'm not all that bothered about reading, but I was quite entertained by a number of sparkly things I found photographed on their pages.

I'm not normally much of a gold person, but I quite like the idea of a gold sequinned top reflecting the sun or a lamé top or skirt for dazzling people on a dreary winter evening:

I would also settle for a nice but sparkly jumper:

And if I wanted some new boots and money were no object, why not go the whole ostentatious hog and get these (swoon):

So there's a little bit of Thanksgiving dreaming for you.  (If I'm not going to get some turkey out of today, then surely a bit of ridiculous wistful longing for stuff I can't afford is perfectly allowed, right?)  I am grateful that I at least have a computer with which to continue writing these silly musings and a printer/photocopier/scanner which happily does its job when prompted.  And donations from kind readers who keep me going with my books and coffee fund!  Thank you! 

To nesnaším! [I can't stand it!]

Traffic

Cars

Beeping

Blocked ear

Drilling

Headache

Insistent

Drilling

High-pitched

Drilling

Working

Or trying to work

Banging

Next door

Headache

Pipes whacked

Floors thud

Wall pounds

Head pounds

And in the distance

When there's silence

There's more

Drilling

Unwell

I am most certainly ill.  I tried to pretend I wasn't this morning, on the basis that if I dared say the words, "I'm feeling really unwell right now", it would surely seal my fate.  But I give in.  I admit it.  I had pain and emotional fluctuation last week, guilt from the lengths I went to to try to treat myself to get through ex-partner's birthday, and now I guess I'm paying for it all.  Or am I just cursed because I bit off the head of a vampire?  

(This one's intact, but the others didn't survive quite so long...)

Either way, trying to get through a splitting headache, aches all over, sinus pain and a sore throat is currently not easy.  And it's even less so when there are builders banging away at the walls next door and in the flat downstairs.  Please, tell me, what exactly is it that I am being punished for?  Whatever it is, I repent, I repent, I repent!  (Thrice declared - that must work, surely?)

November tears and autumn colours

"I think pessimism is completely out of date.  I think that's a romantic indulgence. I don't think anybody can afford to be pessimistic anymore.  I mean, there's so much that can go wrong, optimism is the only thing possible[...] I've always thought that an optimist was a person who knew exactly how sad a place the world could be and a pessimist is a man who finds out anew every morning. That's the real difference.  I'm obviously optimistic because you simply have to be.  It's an obligation to be optimistic."  Peter Ustinov

I'm sitting at my desk, in a black dress and black cardigan and I'm on a second glass of champagne and my fourth chocolate, surrounded by three fashion magazines.  This scene pretty much sums up my state of mind, if you are discerning enough to read between the lines.  (Yes, I'm hormonal too.  Why must it be that obvious?)

I ruined a friend's birthday this morning by bursting into tears almost the minute she walked through the door.  It was ex-partner's birthday yesterday (a very significant one) and I somehow failed to mention this in my explanation of why I was in floods of tears.  It's all a mess of various different feelings and situations anyway.  (As it always is.)  It got worse because of not being able to buy my friend a better birthday present.  I really wanted to make an effort for her, because I would want the same if it were me, but she seemed genuinely happy with what I'd already got her and didn't mind that I'd run out of time to wrap it up.

[Czechs appear to have low expectations and even lower hope of any surprises that prove their low expectations to be a little pessimistic.  This is one of the things currently bothering me.  Most of all because when I purposely try to exceed their expectations, just to surprise and delight them, my efforts are met with a look of bewilderment or, worse still, disdain that this is wholly unnecessary and over the top.  Since when has being extraordinary been such a bore? And, for heaven's sake, WHY?]

I suppose my desperate mood all stemmed from the difficult weekend I'd had of feeling snuffly and panicking about losing money for being ill (thankfully, my cold hasn't so far gone beyond headaches, the occasional sniffle and a sore throat) but my Tuesday was a 'task-and-a-half' and nearly wiped me out.  Not least because I had to get through so many meetings, so many questions, so little appreciation and all of it on ex-partner's birthday.  Needless to say, I couldn't face calling him.  I just couldn't.  I knew I'd only burst into tears.

I should have had a lovely weekend.  A list of delightful things were in place:

1) Thanks to IKEA's genius in economical flat-packing, the huge bed and even the sofa (yes!) made it through the door. (And thankfully, we made it through the night of assembling both bed and sofa, still a couple.  Which is some sort of miracle, surely?)

2) There was indeed some sunshine over the weekend, despite a few gloomy, or misty hours

3) The autumnal colours of the trees were stunning

4) The IKEA "Hemnes" bed was even more stunning.  It's HUGE!

5) The flat-screen TV that got delivered on Saturday was pretty damned sizeable too

But there were thoughts in my head that gnawed away at me.  And there were things in the architect's mind that were gnawing away at him too.  He needs to feel proud of having achieved something so urgently, that even the tiniest detail of whether the furniture ordered fitted the size of the room absolutely proportionally, or if the colours worked together, or if the flat-screen TV was at the right height from the floor were huge setbacks if deemed 'not quite right'.  I tried to tell him what a great achievement it was to have this flat in the first place, to have put up with a job that doesn't appreciate him enough and treats him like dirt at times, in order to be able to afford this stuff, but he was hell-bent on focussing on all the possible ways of looking at things negatively and of seeing himself as a loser.  Somehow nothing I said or did was enough to override that for him.

And he sensed that my thoughts were elsewhere too.  The funny thing is, they wouldn't have been, if he could have trusted, believed and appreciated my words of encouragement.  If he hadn't teased me when we went for a walk that I'm so spoilt for mentioning there not being any hot water by the afternoon because the boiler, which only heats up water overnight to save on energy costs, had run out of it, or hadn't teased me about how long a walk it would be if I carried on walking so slowly as it was getting dark, and instead had at least equalled the teasing with a proportionate amount of affection or words of support, I might have been more focussed on him and not on my sense of loss.

But there's something funny about how your perception changes when you don't have someone backing you up and supporting you as much as you support them.  When you've lost someone who used to, once upon a time, a long, long time ago, think the world of you and appreciated your efforts both in your work and within the relationship, that sense of loss is reflected in your surroundings.  In those days, I used to go for walks in the woods with this someone and feel 100% safe and cared for.  I would look at the beautiful colours of autumn leaves and see the trees as friendly beings, just flaring up a last bit of colour before settling down for their winter nap.  Now, in the light of losing ex-partner to someone who fits his life better than he could ever have imagined (and I stupidly believed that no-one, but no-one finds this, but I realise now that good fortune breeds good fortune ad infinitum just as the reverse, sadly, also appears to be the rule of thumb), all I see is the pain of the loss of the trees' leaves and the sadness that they emit in a 'last shout' of colour before they are robbed of their strength and have to 'shut down' for winter. 

I did try to tell myself, that this is my perception, my choice, so I can change it.  But it is remarkably hard.  It's sort of like asking myself to retain the kindly notion of a rickety old bus, in the way that it is portrayed in Mr. Men books, when regularly having to get on the real thing, all damp, leaky and full of miserable commuters at 8am, on your way to school.  It somehow isn't possible.

And I don't feel safe and cared for.  I feel like the isolated foreigner I am.  (Though isolation is not a concept limited to my time abroad, by any means.)  And that foreign-ness was never more acute than today.  I never thought, in a million years, that I could go somewhere and become the optimist of the crowd.  In London I was the pessimist.  In New York, I was the downright suicidal [not to mention far too socialist] pessimist.  In Prague I am the optimist who is living in cloud-cuckoo land.