Radio Silence

Forgive the radio silence. Rachel about town fell off the wagon. I’d like to think you missed me. A couple of you did. You’re probably the two friends who are reading this now.

Besides, The Boyfriend keeps saying ‘hilarious’ things and commenting that he used to get his star turn on the blog. So I’m posting again to shut him up. Or for the love of writing. Or simply because I like the sound of my own voice.

 Anyway. I've posted. More quality (ish) content to come soon. Watch this space.

Do you know who I am?

Yesterday a rather haughty customer in Natwest made the bank clerk cry. Ok, so the girl working in the bank was making some pretty fundamental mathematical errors, but there was really no need for the tone the woman adopted.

I mean, I agree that a job in a bank wasn’t the best choice for a girl whose mental arithmetic was ropey at best, but the poor lass, it was all too much.

As someone who held a part-time job in the glamorous Wolverhampton City Centre branch of McDonalds for 3 years, I am well versed in the manners of the general public, and have a high level of sympathy. 

People are so rude. Let me tell you now: a baseball cap does not an idiot make.  I had stars.

So, in light of the crying Natwest lass, and of the Saturday’s I spent serving surly teenagers big-macs, I thought I’d share my favourite story about the revenge of the ‘staff.’

Take heed. Don’t be mean to the Saturday staff, they might be quicker witted than you're  expecting. 

A parable: On why not to be rude to ‘staff.’

A crowded flight was cancelled. A single agent was rebooking a long line of inconvenienced travellers. Suddenly an angry passenger pushed his way to the desk and slapped his ticket down on the counter, saying. “I have to be on this flight, and it has to be first class.”

The agent replied, “I’m sorry sir. I’ll be happy to try and help you, but I’ve got to help these people first, and then I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”

The passenger was unimpressed. He asked loudly, so that the passengers behind him could hear, “Do you know who I am?”

Without hesitating, the gate agent grabbed the public address system and began, “May I have your attention please? We have a passenger here at the gate WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If anyone can help him with this problem, please come to the gate.”

With the rest of the passengers laughing, the man glared at the agent, gritted his teeth and swore “[expletive!] you!”

Without flinching, she smiled and said, “I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to stand in line for that too.”

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For more of my McDonalds exploits read this previous blog post

Money Saving Madam: A Memoir

This year is flying by.

I suppose time flies when you’re having… well, fun, I suppose, or some peculiar version of it.

I have decided to celebrate the rename (did you notice the rename) by listing the positive developments that have taken place since I began my blog back in January – and it is all about the positive.

I have written on my blog at least once a week since January.

Lots of lovely people read it each month.

People have laughed, picked up tips and been encouraged. I have been encouraged too.

As per my plan (I knew planning had a place) I have indeed become a published and paid writer.

(I am not going to focus on the fact that this has not allowed me to quit my job and become a brunette version of Carrie Bradshaw.)

I re-embraced the fringe I last sported as a 5 year old, and it is working out well.

I have given up my Zara habit. This is in part due to the money saving, and in part due to developing an unnatural hatred of the manager of Zara. Both have contributed to the paying off of my credit card and steps in the direction of becoming a fully fledged grown up.

I now own a coffee table and have ‘coffee-table’ books on it that make me look intelligent and sophisticated. Some of them have been read.

I bought home-wear from John Lewis for the first time, and realised why people only order home-wear from John Lewis as part of their wedding list - when other people are paying.

I have shunned the fear of change and renamed the blog. Money Saving Madam was great, but she’s stopped writing solely about money saving, and as such, was dabbling in a spot of false advertising.

I hope you’ll stay with me/ embrace the change/ forgive me/ read on.

I really was rubbish at saving money anyway.

The trouble with blogging

My blogging life started a little something like this:

I had an idea. That idea was to try and turn over a new leaf and become a saver. Read about this decision in my first ever post here.

I then had a second idea. Why not document my trials and tribulations in a blog? This would give me an outlet for my love of writing and provide a free hobby as per the saving strategy outlined. It would also make the mundane and painful task of saving into a project. I like a project.

The truth, readers, is that the blog project is going far better than the saving project, but if you’re a reader, you know that anyway.

They say that writing regularly is a path to self-discovery, a chance to work out what you want to do.

Now the irony of the blog going well is that I definitely haven’t worked out what I want to do, furthermore I’m pretty sure my life is rather boring. But I have been discovering. And what I have discovered is that blogging is not without its pitfalls. And currently mine are twofold.

1. The Loss of Secrets.

There is something nice about having a secret and keeping it just for you. It gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling. Now, I’m not talking about the kind of secrets that ruin families, eat you up inside, or come out in the Queen Vic on Christmas day. No, just those pieces of information you like to occasionally hold onto for yourself.

Like, perhaps, finding your first grey hair. I blogged on this very matter (you can read it here) and ever since have felt people’s eyes searching through my thick dark hair for a rogue wiry grey ‘un. Well, you can all stop bloody looking, because I plucked it out.

The day after I had posted this, a friend sent me a link for hair dye. Oh, the hilarity.

When I find the hint of a moustache, you can bet your life that only me (and my beautician) will know about it.

2. The confusion of my identity

If one more person tells me that Money Saving Madam wouldn’t be very happy with i) my holiday planning ii) my popping out for a cappuccino iii) my weekend plan, I am going to pitch them clean through the window.

I AM her people. She is me. This isn’t an alter-ego; this is the story of my attempt to save. Read the strapline: One girl. Trying to be frugal. Mainly failing.

I do not leave work, go into the phone box at the end of the street, spin around, and become a caped-credit-score crusader. I wish I did, but the reality just isn’t that exciting.

I am trying people.

Clothing shopping habits have taken at least an 80% cut. I bring a neatly parcelled packed lunch into work daily and am limiting my amazon book habit to 2 books per month. I cleared my credit card details from all websites, giving myself an extra few moments to decide I don’t need/can’t afford said item. I even gave up meat for a month to see if the cost saving was worth it. (Conclusion: it wasn't.)

I am not a hypocrite, nor a super-hero.

But I have cleared my overdraft.

Consumerism: 0    Money Saving Madam: 1

My new mantra