prolific.org

My colleagues and I went for dinner at a small restaurant here in Amsterdam last night. You wouldn’t find it if you didn’t know about it, as it’s not in an obvious location. We’d originally planned to eat elsewhere, but that place was fully booked. Our CEO recommended Le Petit Latin.

The decor was ‘French’ in a string-of-onions-round-the-neck-’allo-’allo kind of way, but it proved quite effective, I no longer felt I was in Amsterdam.

The menu was chalked on a black board on the wall. It was mostly self-explanatory (if you read French), but the jovial French owner dropped by to explain it all anyway, in lovely Dutch and Franglish even for our mixed company.

A quick glance told me I was never going to find anything on it that would fit my current calorie-limited diet, so to hell with it for once.
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I’ve been going on about ‘monumental change’ since the start of the year, but to be honest I had and still have little idea what kind of change exactly. I’ve given up on growing up, it just isn’t going to happen. I’ll happily tag on to the current ‘gruppy’ fad, how convenient. So what else is there that I could work on?

A new job would be a kind of change. I’ve thought about it and have actually ventured out there and tried my luck, but the experience taught me that it’s not all bad where I am at the moment. In fact it’s pretty good. Pretty cool colleagues (although the age difference is starting to smart), smack in the eye of the web/tv/radio digital hurricane, excellent work agreement, ok pay. It’s the commuting that takes it out of me, the crowded trains, the daily loss of 2 hours… Honestly, workers should get paid for their travel time. But even commuting isn’t all bad – it gives me time to read, if I don’t fall asleep before I turn the page.

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Selfish cunt that I am, I think Dutch GP’s should be SEVERELY PUNISHED (an old fashioned flogging springs to mind) for going on strike this week when I’m supposed to hear what I should be doing about my bloody diet, medication and what not.

I’m not sure what exactly they’re going on strike for, but I’ll wager it’s mostly about money. Apparently they only make TWICE AS MUCH as their Belgian colleagues and it isn’t enough.

Damnit, if I made 97.000 EURO A YEAR, I wouldn’t have time to lay down work. I’d be too busy SPENDING IT on good (artery clogging) food and an endless array of sexy gadgets.

They must go back to work RIGHT NOW, because I seem to be suffering from a bad case of Dooce-itus.

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Two things happened to me recently that were unrelated, but maybe they’re not.

1. I met a guy that I sort of liked. This is rare. I have lots of lovely male friends but I hardly ever meet any that I ‘like’ like. I don’t know, I’m picky? The odd thing was this guy didn’t ignore me like guys I ‘like’ like usually do and we spent quite a while talking. Twice. And he started it. And we would have talked longer if his majesty hadn’t interrupted. And, kids, hold on to your hats: I asked for and got his number. I have no idea what I was on.

2. On the tram the other night, the guard winked at me and just pretended to stamp my ticket. A free ride! This is surreal for someone who usually gets very annoyed with tram guards flirting with people who are in front of them, and then is completely ignored or scowled at herself.

Also, at the aftershow the other night, despite doing my best impression of a wallflower, people kept coming up to me to talk to me.

It must be the haircut. At least four colleagues commented on it today as well, which they don’t usually do.

I’ll have to send Monique, who cuts my hair, a Christmas card.

Received some sad news earlier on today.

Some get married, others part. It is, will always be, an emotional time. (qt)

More nastiness: we just read a police message on Teletext that gave me and my colleagues a bit of a shock. Someone we work with (in a related company here on Mediapark) went missing a week ago, on her way to work — a route some of us travel daily.

Holland woke up to find the world covered in a 20 cm blanket of snow. I shuffled and slipped and hopped on a metro for a reasonably easy trip to Duivendrecht, only to find the trains indefinitely delayed.

45 minutes later and no sign of normal schedules resuming, mobile contact confirmed most of my colleagues similarly stranded.

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Remember our FUN “pizzamat”? The one that promised but did not deliver?

Well, here it is. After weeks of ‘does it, does it not dispense the goods’ one of our colleagues has finally coaxed a ‘Verdura’ from the hellish machine.

The verdict: “Hmm, yeah, edible.”

I’m going back on my initial ‘must show up at work regardless of how things stand’ atttitude. I don’t think I could have coped with more of the ‘understanding and empathic glances and taps on shoulder’ from my now “ex” colleagues. I’m sleeping in today. Also, I think it’s wholly inappropriate for the two people I want to talk to the most right now to bugger off to France with no means of contacting, one of them camping, and the other camping it up, no doubt.