Eyes up front sunshine
I did warn that there would be occasional Mirande Devine like moments of spleen venting, so read at your own peril.
I have just come back from a meeting with a "career planning organisation", which quite frankly was like a cult in suits. The "career planner" I met with, despite being very very British, was obviously well versed in the theories and west coast speak of Edward De Bono. This was a firm that had called me to discuss how they "fast track my career" (no reference point of from where to where) but the meeting comprised largely our Edward fan talking in those low soft, soothing tones and asking me how I thought he could help me. It was all I could do to not scream "you called me mate..."
By west coast, I mean those people that do the "what I'm hearing from you right now" and invariably talk about feelings being validated. It's not quite new age, but it's also not quite freudian or jungian. It's more a lazy mixture of all, ultimately culminating in affirmations that should be said daily. Scientology is based on west coastisms (and has something to do with a mountain, a space ship and trapped souls... trust me that is the best explanation you will get for that religion ever!) But the scientology personality test... "is your life a constant struggle for survival" and more disturbingly "Would the idea of inflicting pain on game, small animals or fish prevent you from hunting or fishing?" is more an indication of how lonely and vulnerable you are, which I presume then allows them to calculate how much they can bank on you buying new friends. For fun, or spite (which can be fun), sign your ex-partners, exes of your partners, and ex-friends up. If you want to guarantee a house call, say that your friend has recently come into cash and is feeling quite vulnerable as a result of it. Fun for all the family. http://www.scientology.org/oca.htm
So, I have my Edward enthusiast reflectively listening and mirroring body language to bond with me in a way that is starting to freak me out, but I remind myself that I am in a new country and should be less judgemental of people. At least for a while.
Anyway, as my internal monologue was chastising me for already mentally blanking this guy by working out what I would cook for dinner I noticed that he was staring openly and without any subtlety at my cans!
It wasn't like I was wearing something that invited aforementioned behaviour, so as I sat there, trying to make eye contact in what was clearly a business meeting I found myself taking on not only my embarrassment at what was just a bit too pervy for my liking, but also his embarrassment for apparently being raised without needing to blink.
Had I been there to plan for a career as a page 3 girl, or to become the new Pamela Anderson-Lee-Anderson-Rock, then I guess it would be fair enough that all my "assets" shoud be considered. However, as we were there discussing career aspirations that did not invovle the overt (or indeed even indirect) use of my breasts, I'm unclear why they became such a focal point in the meeting.
It's not like I have a magic eye print tattooed on them (which is the only reason that I can possibly come up with for his blatant and persistent staring.) And so to the guys reading this, I'll let you in on a secret. We notice. You're not that subtle!
It's enough that taking public transport opens you up to being random groping by the hoardes, but it is not cool to use your business setting to channel Benny Hill.
Oh, and clearly there will be no pictures to support this blog. For pictures go to parisisaskankyslag.com
I apologise to the readers who tuned in for a full blown Miranda moment. I'm just not very good at it. Although I do think there is FAR too much porn being sold at train station kiosks for overnight trains. But I'll get to that in Spain.
For the real Miranda go here: http://www.smh.com.au/news/opinion/speech-from-the-heart-cements-a-place-in-history/2006/10/04/1159641392678.html
This is one of her more balanced pieces, sadly.
I have just come back from a meeting with a "career planning organisation", which quite frankly was like a cult in suits. The "career planner" I met with, despite being very very British, was obviously well versed in the theories and west coast speak of Edward De Bono. This was a firm that had called me to discuss how they "fast track my career" (no reference point of from where to where) but the meeting comprised largely our Edward fan talking in those low soft, soothing tones and asking me how I thought he could help me. It was all I could do to not scream "you called me mate..."
By west coast, I mean those people that do the "what I'm hearing from you right now" and invariably talk about feelings being validated. It's not quite new age, but it's also not quite freudian or jungian. It's more a lazy mixture of all, ultimately culminating in affirmations that should be said daily. Scientology is based on west coastisms (and has something to do with a mountain, a space ship and trapped souls... trust me that is the best explanation you will get for that religion ever!) But the scientology personality test... "is your life a constant struggle for survival" and more disturbingly "Would the idea of inflicting pain on game, small animals or fish prevent you from hunting or fishing?" is more an indication of how lonely and vulnerable you are, which I presume then allows them to calculate how much they can bank on you buying new friends. For fun, or spite (which can be fun), sign your ex-partners, exes of your partners, and ex-friends up. If you want to guarantee a house call, say that your friend has recently come into cash and is feeling quite vulnerable as a result of it. Fun for all the family. http://www.scientology.org/oca.htm
So, I have my Edward enthusiast reflectively listening and mirroring body language to bond with me in a way that is starting to freak me out, but I remind myself that I am in a new country and should be less judgemental of people. At least for a while.
Anyway, as my internal monologue was chastising me for already mentally blanking this guy by working out what I would cook for dinner I noticed that he was staring openly and without any subtlety at my cans!
It wasn't like I was wearing something that invited aforementioned behaviour, so as I sat there, trying to make eye contact in what was clearly a business meeting I found myself taking on not only my embarrassment at what was just a bit too pervy for my liking, but also his embarrassment for apparently being raised without needing to blink.
Had I been there to plan for a career as a page 3 girl, or to become the new Pamela Anderson-Lee-Anderson-Rock, then I guess it would be fair enough that all my "assets" shoud be considered. However, as we were there discussing career aspirations that did not invovle the overt (or indeed even indirect) use of my breasts, I'm unclear why they became such a focal point in the meeting.
It's not like I have a magic eye print tattooed on them (which is the only reason that I can possibly come up with for his blatant and persistent staring.) And so to the guys reading this, I'll let you in on a secret. We notice. You're not that subtle!
It's enough that taking public transport opens you up to being random groping by the hoardes, but it is not cool to use your business setting to channel Benny Hill.
Oh, and clearly there will be no pictures to support this blog. For pictures go to parisisaskankyslag.com
I apologise to the readers who tuned in for a full blown Miranda moment. I'm just not very good at it. Although I do think there is FAR too much porn being sold at train station kiosks for overnight trains. But I'll get to that in Spain.
For the real Miranda go here: http://www.smh.com.au/news/opinion/speech-from-the-heart-cements-a-place-in-history/2006/10/04/1159641392678.html
This is one of her more balanced pieces, sadly.
