When Creative Girl went Corporate

Four weeks. Twenty days. Around fifty cups of herbal tea. Forty trips on the cross river ferry. Approximately 500 various responses to the questions “How was your trip?” and “Is your book published yet?”. Five pairs of laddered stockings. Ten calls to the IT Help Desk to recover forgotten passwords.

That’s how long I’ve been back in my corporate girl shoes for. And yes, it’s been a massive shock to my creative girl way of life (especially the herbal tea bit – I’m not drinking coffee at the moment and it’s nearly killing me). Such a shock that it took about two weeks for my brain to even really start functioning again. On my first day my boss Lorraine asked me to start thinking about developing a dashboard to measure KPI’s for Bid and BD costs, and I nearly had to ask her what a KPI was. Key Plot Item? Keep Pimms Iced? I remember just nodding and writing it down, trying to look serious and knowledgeable, all the while wondering how long it was until home time.

Unsurprisingly, not much in Corporate Girl world has changed in six months. Lots of new faces to avoid making eye contact with in the lift and a new job, but pretty much everything else is the same. The biggest surprise was only having 1800 emails in my inbox on day one, most of which were junk. Although there were a few in there from around March/April from people asking me to please run a workshop for them. Which was four to five months after I left – meaning that they hadn’t even noticed I was gone all that time. A good reminder that I’m not nearly as indispensible as I would possibly like to think I am.

As for my new role? So far, so good. Mostly because I still don’t know exactly what my role is so I’m able to bring some creativity into my corporate girl life when answering the question ‘So, what are you doing now?’ I’ve taken to just murmuring something about ‘global projects’ and ‘client development’ and I find that it tends to make people’s eyes glaze over, stops any further questioning in its tracks and lets me get back to surfing the net and stalking people on Facebook (just joking Lorraine. I swear. I would never stalk anyone on Facebook).

I will admit that the fulltime-work/writing juggling act is not nearly as easy as I thought it was going to be. I distinctly remember writing a blog entry several months ago (around the time I was in Spain and had 24 hours a day to devote to nothing more taxing that writing, eating and sleeping) where I stated that I thought it would be bloody easy to fit it in when I went back to work. Just an hour or two a day, that’s all I need.

Hmmm…..

You see, it turns out that spending my day talking about the impacts of the carbon tax on our clients is strangely draining on my creative juices. And the fact that I’m addicted to Masterchef hasn’t really helped either. The only writing I seem to be doing at the moment are emails to my accountant to organise my tax return and filling out forms to get my drivers license replaced. Even my beloved blog is slowly going to seed.

I clearly need a new plan of action.

So. I’m going to start up a new blog. Exactly what it will be about is still a work in progress – but it will be something that lets me continue to blog about my book, bachelors or bus station toilets. Stay tuned. I'll tell you all about it next week....just as soon as bloody Masterchef is over.

There's a few people I want to thank (because the fat lady is really bellowing now).

Alright. Enough stories of woe about all these Brisbane (in)eligible bachelors. Time to get down to more serious business like the fact that I am returning to work tomorrow. TOMORROW. As in about 10 hours time.

Good God. I really have no idea how this happened. One minute I was sitting in Spain having a bloody good time, writing a (crappy) novel, sleeping in and generally just minding my own business, and the next minute I’m back in Brisbane kicking myself for somehow not managing to get any of my jackets dry cleaned in the six months I had off, and checking all of my nude stockings for ladders.

So I can wear them, not strangle myself. Don't worry.

How do I feel about returning to work? Brilliant of course! (My boss reads my blog). Okay, maybe a tad depressed but I think that’s only natural after six months off. I’m also a little nervous to be honest – nervous that my brain has entered a permanent state of hibernation and will have forgotten how to function. I might need to pack a marketing textbook in my handbag just in case someone actually asks me a question about marketing. Like what it is.

I’m still not exactly sure what I’m going to be doing tomorrow, but I suspect it will involve answering the questions ‘How was your trip?’ (Fantastic!) and ‘How’s the book coming along?’ (Nearly finished!) around 850 times. My good friend Kellie Hogan suggested I just issue a memo on my arrival that provides a summary of answers to all possible questions to save repeating myself. I think that might actually be a good idea, thanks Kel. Or I might just commandeer the reception PA system and make a quick speech on my arrival.

To mark the end of my time as a full time ‘creative’, I wanted to write a list of acknowledgements. You know, like the kind you see in the back of a book where they thank Tom, Dick and his mate Harry for helping them with the book. I’ve actually got a lot of people to thank for helping make the last six months possible. And as my book will probably never see the light of day, I thought best to do it right here, in my blog.

Kelly Kent, aspiring novelist and inspiring friend, who made a bet with me two years ago and then kept me to it. Thanks for helping me with my ‘writing wobbles’, and encouraging me to just dive in and bloody well do it. I doubt any of this would have ever happened without you.

Lizzie and Paul. I truly can’t say enough about these two. Thanks for the festival of Paul, the copious amounts of herbal tea, not subjecting me to any horror movies, your gorgeous country cottage, robust debates about the movie Love Actually, and most of all for opening your home to a writer-in-residence you hadn’t even laid eyes on for five years. I can’t wait for my new bedroom in Bloomsbury to be finished!

Jane and Ben (and Bella the dog), the very-soon-parents-to-be who welcomed me so warmly into their amazing Knightsbridge home for the second year in a row, and who always make me feel like another Cleary sister! Thanks for my A-class rugby experience, teaching me how to make sausage rolls, and giving me a lifelong aversion to yellow paint/80 year old handymen.

Kate and Keith. For loaning me your awesome pad in Clapham while you were on holidays in Australia (and trusting me with your super deluxe kitchen).

Frank and Lorraine: my Corporate Girl bosses who said ‘Sure, off you go’, and are actually willing to take my hibernating brain back on again. Risky move.

Wonderful friends, sisters, family, colleagues and random distant acquaintances who have genuinely encouraged my novel writing escapade. I hear horror stories about people who tell family and friends they are writing a novel, only to be made to feel like they’re delusional and should be admitted to the local psychiatric ward ASAP. My experience has been the total opposite, to the point where it would be impossible for me to actually name everyone individually without getting RSI from typing.

Everyone who reads my blog. Yes, you out there, whoever you are and wherever you may be – from Russia to Japan, Singapore to Brasil. It always gives me a massive kick when people tell me they read my blog/their Mum reads my blog (hi Lyn!)/I made them laugh/they tell me about their favourite post. Thanks for being my writing guinea pigs. I hope it wasn’t too torturous.

Dell computers. Turns out your laptop was suitable after all, even if I did lose E, F, N and S.

And of course Mum and Dad, who always encourage and support me no matter what crazy idea I’m dreaming up (I’m quitting my job to go and work in the Canadian ski fields/I’m taking six months off to write a book/I’m getting a tattoo). I feel fortunate every day to be your daughter. Oh, and I’m joking about the tattoo.

Finally, to the woman who stole my wallet on Friday night. Thank you for your nimble finger work right before I am due back at work instead of last week when I would have had heaps of time to get my new license, medicare card etc sorted out. I would have given you the $50 I had in there if you’d just asked. Okay, maybe not, but seriously. Get a job.

I think that’s everyone, but I’m not sure (please refer to earlier note re: brain hibernation).

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Writing is a very solitary endeavour, and yet I honestly couldn’t have done it without my fantastic support crew. And I promise to repeat this if a publishing miracle ever does appear in my future. Even if I really am using a zimmer frame by the time that ever happens.

Introducing Eligible Bachelor #5

Last night a guy told me that I was ‘quite attractive’ and it was not my father or anyone related to me/working for me and looking for a pay rise/a Moroccan man trying to sell me a carpet.

Now, before you go rolling your eyes and thinking that I’ve gone all up-myself by blogging about this, or getting concerned that my head is going to be so big I won't be able to get it through the office doors tomorrow, let me just tell you that it was nearly midnight, the man in question (who, following my last blog post, I will simply refer to as Eligible Bachelor #5) had clearly had a few too many rumbos, and there was some very dim lighting involved. But what I really want to share with you to make clear that this has in no way gone to my head is what his pre-cursor to this statement was:

‘For an older lady, you’re quite attractive.’

Yes. That’s right. An older lady.

I have been under no illusions that I am getting older. My lovely Doctor in fact brought this to my attention a couple of years ago when he told me that the problems I was having with my neck were ‘general wear and tear’ and there was nothing he could do about it. Being likened to some well trodden carpet kind of has the effect of making you realise you’re not a teenager anymore. But still, I really don’t feel that different in a lot of ways to what I did 10 years ago. The fact that I am in a bar at midnight on a Saturday night is probably testament to this.

Until now. Because now I am an officially certified older lady.

Granted Eligible Bachelor #5 was about 21, so arguably anyone over the age of 22 would fall into his older lady bracket. But I doubt he uses this line on too many 22 year olds. Or looks at them in a way that implies they could well be his mother.

It was certainly a sobering experience. And I was already sober, so that’s really telling you something. I think I laughed – but not too hard, because I didn’t want to further define my obviously already visible crows feet. He wandered off and I was left to contemplate whether I should take his remark as a compliment or an insult. I’m still not quite sure. I guess I’ll think about that a little more today while I peruse some zimmer frame catalogues.

I will say, though, that all of these encounters in the last few weeks  makes me wonder whether I shouldn’t just rename this blog ‘When Corporate Girl met Brisbane’s Most Eligible Bachelors’ and be done with the whole fiction writing thing altogether. Because I honestly don’t think I could make up half of this stuff even if I tried.