Career-Decision Death-Match

It's just over a week now since my last blog, and decision time may be imminent.

Although I'm yet to receive any further information or firm updates from Richard, I have learned that he's just as good as his word.  I also appreciate how long these processes take, particularly when a company must make a long-term financial commitment.

Despite the absence of any new information since my last update, it would have been remiss of me not to put some serious thought into the "what if's?", should a choice present itself.

In true Celebrity Death-Match fashion then, I'm pitting my challenging-but-wonderful job with the BBC, against what I have learned about my short time at JD Williams.

Over the course of the next five rounds, these two jobs will exchange on-screen blows in an attempt to find a career-decision death-match champion!  Perhaps readers could even be the ring-side judges, with your very own post-bout scores!

Just one cautionary note though:  Whilst the forthcoming battle is personal and sensitive to me, it shouldn’t really be published in the public arena.  One of these jobs is still very much up-in-the-air, whilst the other is very real.  If you would like to leave a comment, particularly upon Facebook, please do so via a personal message to my inbox.

Ding Ding …Second’s out: Round One!

Round One: Opportunity & Security

The BBC offers a whole host of opportunities and everything I have ever wanted from a job: Opportunity and above all else, security.

They call the contracts here at the Beeb, ‘continuous' rather than 'permanent', but it's as close to permanent as I could possibly wish for.

The TV licence settlement has recently been agreed for the next six years, but this is actually irrelevant; the added bonus of working for BBC Children in Need, is that staff salaries are NOT taken from the general licence fee pot.  Instead, whilst every single penny raised by the public goes directly to Children in Need, the bank account interest upon it totally covers the overheads for us guys, to make sure the right money, goes to the right children that need it the most.

In terms of career opportunities within the Children in Need team, there are only 3 levels above me, so it's fair to say that promotional opportunity is fairly limited.  However, there is constant talk of 'attachments' (rather like secondments) about the place, so I'm already well aware that there are lots of channels to diversify in to.  Most of these however, would obviously require a move to London.

Beyond Children in Need, I receive e-mails every single day informing me of internal attachment opportunities and full-time vacancies based across the corporation, and all over the world.

The BBC then is without doubt, an everlasting corridor into the future, with any number of doors to choose should the right opportunity come along at the right time.

Looking deeper at ‘the bigger picture’, anyone who knows me will already be well aware of my HUGE interest in broadcasting - particularly within the world of radio.

Although I'm still a thousand steps away from being anywhere near the wireless (and my radio-hero Chris Evans!), I am surely a thousand steps nearer to working in radio than I would be if I took a single step outside of the corporation?

In respect of this final point alone, would JD be able to compete in this round?  …you bet they can!

-V-

Whilst JD will undoubtedly offer me the opportunity to do something I enjoy, and something I'm good at right now, what of the future?

As the first member of staff to be recruited to this brand new department, perhaps I could one day be the Daddy, and then even the Granddaddy of the team, so perhaps a position of seniority could develop in time?  Having said that, I've never actually been a fully-fledged copywriter before and therefore, I'm certainly not an expert, nor a natural leader in the field.  Would an experienced professional be a more suitable candidate for progression in this newly formed department?

In terms of ‘the bigger picture’, JD could be perceived as a shrimp compared to the colossus of the BBC, but they’re by no means a small fish:  The Company are major players in their field and industry leaders in the sector, employing over 3000 staff in Greater Manchester alone.  JD Williams operate over sixty brands, with several recent acquirements being added to the portfolio.  What’s more, they’re also branching out into the retail sector via the ‘Simply Be’ brand, so it’s certainly a case of onwards and upwards for this historic company.

The reputation is second-to-none and from the conversations I’ve engaged in, it’s clear that the low turnover of staff can mean only one thing:  They’re a dead good company to work for.

Round Two: Location, Location, Location

The exterior of Dock House, MediaCity

A huge inspiration behind me starting to write this blog was that of the character 'Ugly Betty', especially during the last series of her self-entitled and heart-warming television series.

One of the things I often thought about when watching the show was how "I'd love to work to work at a place like Mode" ...and having checked out the department’s new office at MediaCity last week, the BBC have just about got it nailed!

We got the chance to drive over and check out 'Dock House' last Wednesday - one of three brand new, purpose-built office blocks at Salford Quays.  The new surroundings are seriously cool and whereas the 'Mode' surroundings are predominantly orange, the BBC’s new home is dominated by fresh, spring-time shades of green.   The lighting is sophisticated, the artwork is quirky and the funky bespoke wall-papers used give each area a very individual, modern and contemporary look.

Meeting rooms are accompanied by i-pad style booking systems upon glass walls, bins have been made extinct by dedicated 'slots' in the walls and the 'touch-down areas' are fully equipped with concealed data-cables and comfortable seating. 

The view from the afternoon: The view from my desk with the Lowry Outlet Mall to the left,
the quays and tram stop at the centre and Old Trafford at the far top right.

The downside of moving to Salford Quays is that just as I'm getting used to the advantages of the big city life, the privileges will be lost!

I've really enjoyed being in and around the city centre, if even for a short time each day.  Already, I've been able to nip into the centre to visit my favourite shops, stay overnight in a close-by hotel for a gig, and had a couple of brilliant post-work beverage-fests!

As cool as the new place is, I've already grown to love the rustic authenticity of New Broadcasting House and I'll certainly miss working right in the very heart of one of the coolest cities in the world.

The upshot of the move though, is that I'll be able to start driving to work once again - rather than catch the train. 

Whilst catching the train has been pleasant, I do have to catch two trains each way at the moment in order to get to Oxford Road Station, which is just a few minutes away from where I'm currently located.  Catching four trains a day then, as opposed to just two obviously increases your chances of getting a delay by 50%.   …and these delays have started to become more and more frequent over recent weeks!

I could of course continue to catch the train when we move to Salford Quays, but this would then require an additional tram ride at the Manchester end of the journey – a half hour trip on top of my usual drive to and from the station at the 'home' leg of the commute.

Whilst the train ride to Manchester would become direct, the additional cost of a tram season-ticket, on top of the train fares, would make it extremely difficult to justify the cost of keeping my car...

The Studios at MediaCity

A simple calculation provides financial clarity:  Car loan + car tax + car insurance + diesel + £140 per month train ticket + £50 tram ticket = not enough spare money for soda-pops and shandy-beers!

Of course, it would be naive to think a driving commute would be a 'walk in the park'.  I'm yet to experience a daily drive to Salford Quays yet, but having been advised of a 'guaranteed' parking spot, it has further cemented my determination to get back behind the wheel. 

Perhaps the traffic jams would be hell-ish ...and perhaps it would cost more in fuel than it would in combined train and tram fares?  But - as my friend Francine quite rightly pointed out, at least I wouldn't be hanging around in bad weather, waiting for a packed-out and often-late tram or train, and I would also be in the comfort of my own car. 

...Some people on public transport can be a bit pongy too!

Hmmmmn. Ponderment!

-V-

JD Williams is based in Manchester city centre, at the heart of the popular Northern Quarter.

Griffin House is much newer and much more modern than New Broadcasting House, but not quite as 'funky' as the brand spanking new Dock House at MediaCity.  Nevertheless, the offices are by far the smartest I’ve ever worked in!  They’re super modern, with all the latest IT gadgetry, glass elevators and lots of beautiful people!  They also have beautifully clean, well equipped kitchens and bathrooms.  As with the BBC, the four-storey block also has its very own in-house restaurant.

More centrally located than the BBC’s current and future premises, JD's HQ is just a five minute walk from all the city centre shops and bars - whilst crucially - it's much closer to the more convenient Victoria Station.

My thinking behind the proximity to Victoria is that it's a simple, easy and convenient one-train journey.  In turn, this could have a reasonable effect upon my finances …if I was willing to make a brave change...

Whilst I couldn't possibly be without 'a' car, I have been giving some thought to what might be the most sensible thing to do about my current motor, should I be offered, and take a job at JD, and not move on with the BBC to Salford Quays.

In summary, it would again be very difficult to justify the ownership and running costs of a brand new car, that’s simply being left at the train station each day.  At present, I'm only travelling 4 miles per day, so in quantifiable terms, it wouldn't make any financial sense at all to keep it.

Fortunately, there should be more than enough equity in the car to buy myself a really decent set of second-hand, fully paid up wheels, should I decide to sell it.

…Funny how such a simple dilemma, could throw up so many connotations and knock-on effects!  As you can tell, I'm not blessed with that fabulous skill of 'going with the flow'!!

Round Three: Content of work & Job Satisfaction

My new job at the BBC is tough. ...really tough!  It's labour intensive, sensitive, intricate and involves huge investments of time in order to reach even the simplest of conclusions.

Whilst hard graft doesn't phase me at all, there are no 'quick' tasks:  The in-depth processes involved, mean that much of my time is spent digging, investigating and chasing - rather than actually 'doing':  All good news for keeping me busy; Not quite so good for ever getting to the bottom of that ever-increasing 'to-do' pile!

The problem at the moment is that I'm still learning and as a result of my inexperience, it does seem to be taking me a long time to resolve queries and find answers.  This is tending to leave me quite frustrated as I reach the end of each day, as I seem to be no further along the path of progression than I was in the 24 hour period previously.

The positive aspect of all this of course, is that my days are already starting to whizz by and I genuinely feel shocked when the clock approaches 4:30.  I also feel safe in the knowledge that my contribution to the team seems greatly appreciated, and that my particular position is an extremely valued cog within the department’s mechanics.

-V-

The JD job would undoubtedly give me much more of a creative license, as it would loosen up all the 'at-your-service' constraints of my BBC role.

Whilst deadlines would still be tight, I don't envisage the multitude of responsibilities, the plethora of phone-calls and the conflicting priorities that I’m juggle in the BBC role.

Whilst I readily accept and embrace 'variety' in my work, I do feel it is something that may have hindered me somewhat in the past.  Being a jack-of-all-trades is all well and good, but this has undoubtedly made me a master-of-none over the developmental stages of my recent career.

To combat this, the copywriting position at JD would afford me an opportunity to finally become a 'specialist' in a very specific sector: Not only in 'copywriting', but also in the field of 'fashion copywriting' - and even more specifically - that of the 'home shopping, fashion copywriting' field!

If offered a position, I would of course be able to work in a field that I enjoy (i.e.: writing), an area that i am interested in (i.e.: fashion) and for the first time in years - in an area I am actually (quite) good at!!

It certainly presents a dilemma, as on the flip-side, I can't help but think about the possible limitations of fashion copywriting?

In the past, I have written plenty of copy for a variety of mediums, including websites, prospectuses, press releases and guidebooks, which is not bad for a novice.  Having said that though, here's the BUT: I've never actually worked full-time as 'a copywriter'.  

...surely there are other people out there better than me? What if I run out of ideas!? What if I exhaust all my fashion superlatives and on-trend phraseology in a matter of mere weeks? What if I get writers block when a deadline is imminent?  What if, despite the kind praise received so far, my 'flowery style' just isn't appropriate for the sector...and what if - rather like I'm doing now, I ramble on too much?

At that point, I'll appropriately leave part one of the death-match right there.  Seconds out for the final two rounds …sometime soon.

The Return of Blogger Boy ...Part II

The Return of blogger-boy continues …

Enemy Three
When I arrived at work the morning after the night from hell, I felt absolutely pants.  During that night and in a state of complete despair, I'd sent texts to both my girlfriend and my faithful old Mum.  I knew something wasn't quite right, and as I supped my first few coffees of the day, their replies confirmed what I’d already concluded:  "Get yourself booked in at the doctors Jason ...and do it now!"

Once again, I found I was explaining my weary state of lethargy to the boss, who by now, was surely beginning to think she'd employed some kind of sickly-child-drama-queen?  She too agreed though that an appointment with the doc would be the best course of action, and so, I promptly picked-up the phone with high hopes of finally bringing the curtain down on this zombie-like plague.

Unfortunately, I would be home too late to make it in time for surgery and without taking unnecessary leave, there’d be no chance to get in and actually see the quack at all.  So I enquired about a call-back from the doctor instead and with a brief description of my symptoms, the receptionist helpfully obliged.  Within a couple of hours, I received a call back from her and was relieved to find out that I'd been prescribed some sleeping tablets.  Embarrassingly, the conversations with the doctor’s receptionist took place right beside my boss and with that, my indignity was now fully complete.

The rest of the day really was a blur to be honest, but towards the end of it, I received a significant phone call from my Mum…

My Uncle Terry had collapsed earlier in the day and having been ambulanced-in to the hospital, a blood clot had been discovered on his brain.  He was on life support and in a grave condition.

I literally burst out of the office doors at 4:30 and with a mixture of exhaustion, anxiousness and anger, I felt as though I would burst into tears as the fresh air hit me.

As I was about to board the train, I received a friendly text from my good friend Natalie, who simply wrote to ask how I’d been getting on in my new job.  (I'm not sure she was quite expecting the response that followed!).

It was only my fifth day then, but a huge storm of self-doubt had already gathered and a dark raincloud of negativity had taken over.  Why was I finding it so difficult to take on board all these new processes?  Why was I having such conflict with the database that was supposed to be my ‘new best friend’, and why the hell was every single IT tool I'd been given either faulty or completely broken?  Even my goddamn selltotape dispenser was totally knackered!

The more pressing question of why I was having so much trouble getting to sleep was the issue concerning me the most.  Maybe this was my sub-conscious hammering home the fact that I was walking in the wrong man's shoes?  Quite simply, I concluded that I wasn't sleeping, because I had simply found myself in the wrong job.

My new ID Badge ...but how long would I be using it for?

The third enemy of ‘self-doubt, worry and anxiety’ had joined forces with the common cold and the lack of sleep, and it seemed to be that this three-pronged attack on me had been victorious.  Already, I was starting to get ‘scared’ of going to sleep, and with only five days of my new job on the clock, I’d already begun to ‘dread’ going in to work the following morning.

…Surely all this was a crystal clear sign that it was meant to be JD  ... and not the BBC for JT?

During the longest journey home yet, I thought about the last conversation I’d had with Richard.  I was aware that a meeting was scheduled at JD Williams later in the week to discuss this potential new department, and of course my ‘phantom’ job, which would be a part of this new department.  Desperately (and perhaps fairly unprofessionally of me) I wrote out an e-mail to Richard to find out what his ‘gut feeling’ was about the forthcoming meeting ...and I hit send.

Typically of Richard, the reply arrived almost immediately…

“Hi Jay,

Thanks for the e-mail.  Difficult to guess which way the meeting on Wednesday afternoon will go?

Director wants to progress, because he needs to save money by bringing the design work in.

Marketing managers want to progress as one of their main agency has just been released.

Simon is keen that I keep you on the radar - he and Alison have been impressed with your work.

My management team are happy to progress, as long as we are given the right people to make a success of it.......and here comes the BUT

The Director is reluctant to recruit at the level I have suggested for the creative designers and this may/may not kill the whole deal on Wednesday.

So, I don't know really what to advise other than sit still with your fingers crossed - rather like supporting the Albion really!

Will let you know how it goes as soon as I can.

Richard”

Encouraging news then, with the only negative being that the salary wouldn’t be quite as attractive, as perhaps Richard had proposed?  At this stage though, money really didn’t matter to me one jot, and it was really good to know that if things carried on being as difficult as they had been so far at the BBC, there might be a very decent escape route.

Tomorrow though, was to be a brand new day.

Uncle Terry
With my first sleeping tablet, a dash of lavender spray, a mug of Horlicks AND a Nytol all consumed, I slept reasonably well that night.  (Although, I'm sure the fact that it was the first time I’d slept in two whole days, might have had something to do with this!)

After the difficulty of my first five days, I'd already stopped looking forward to my day at work ...But despite the sad news that I was about to receive, this was actually going to be the day that everything got better.

But first of all…

I knew Uncle Terry had been on a ventilator throughout the night, but I received a text not long after I arrived in the office from my Mum.  She was texting to let me know that the doctors had discovered an inoperable tumour on Terry’s brain. 

Terry was the husband of my Nanna's sister, and although actually my Mum's Uncle, he was always known as 'Uncle Terry' to me.  Now, not a lot of people know this - but as a youngster, Terry and Joyce used to take me down to the match every other week … … … …to watch Blackburn Rovers!!!

The trouble was, although I was being plied with a quarter of Midget-Gems and a Howard Gayle programme for my troubles, Terry and Joyce were taking me in to the Nutall Street stand, which as far as I was concerned, was where all the ‘old fogeys’ sat.  As an impressionable 8 year old just discovering football, I found it all a little bit 'boring'.  (But I did enjoy the Midget Gems!).  Meanwhile, on the alternate weekends, (and much to the 'other' half of my family's displeasure!) my Dad would be taking me into the thriving hustle and bustle of The Longside at Burnley FC.

In no time at all, my Rovers-watching days were over and in effect, perhaps anyone who’s ever argued with me about football, should blame my Uncle Terry for turning my allegiance to all things Claret and Blue!

Later that night, we learned that the doctor’s had decided to take Terry off his ventilator, and let nature take his true course.  He passed away shortly afterwards.

God bless Terry Newby.

Turning the corner
On a slightly more positive note, my work earlier that day went really well and with the benefit of perspective, (and a much, much clearer mind), the complex processes and technicalities I'd been struggling to grasp so far, all-of-a sudden started to become clearer.

One thing I must put on record at this point is just how friendly and helpful everyone at the BBC is.  From the cleaner and the brew-lady, to the security guys and the people I've bumped into on the corridor.   …All of them: Brilliant!

And as far as my colleagues in the office - and across the country in the BBC Children in Need team - are concerned, I really couldn't wish for any more support.

Everybody REALLY has been absolutely lovely, extremely pleasant and genuinely helpful.  (…Maybe it's the influence of Pudsey and the fact that they're 'doing it for the kids'?)Whatever it is, these guys really are something else!

The day also had some lovely icing on the cake too! ...As this was the evening I arrived home to find that Dr. Mike Brescia's CD had arrived, "Think Right Now: Tranquil Sleep now"! And oh-my-word word ...how it has helped!!!

Tranquil Sleep now! My brilliant new 'weapon'.

I was still slurping on my Horlicks and I was still popping in a sleeping pill and a herbal Nytol each night.  I was still 'doing my stretches' and wearing my in-flight sleep mask! But now I had another brilliant weapon in my arsenal too!

This brilliant CD lasts for 61 minutes and is split into four 'tracks' ...but I really couldn't tell you too much more about it! For, even at the time of writing (a full week in retrospect of this part of the story), I am yet to even make it to the third track!

It's so, so very soothing, so, so calming and a brilliant way to help you breathe your way into a very relaxed state.  Utter bliss!  It may well be a sack of psychological spiel, but in the end, I guess that's the whole point?

From this night forward, my sleep-pattern improved ten-fold and in turn, so did everything else. My cold finally departed, I was feeling back-on-track physiologically and psychologically, I was ready to take on everything my new job threw at me!


Onwards
The next couple of days seemed to improve as every hour passed by.

As I elaborated upon earlier, all the people I've come into contact with had been real beacons of positivity and this encouragement continued.  But on a broader spectrum, I was now starting to realise how wonderful this organisation was, and how lucky I'd been to have actually been employed by them.

Alright, I was still having IT problems and still working with a very dodgy monitor.  But knowing I’d be getting a brand spanking new set of absolutely everything when we move over to MediaCityUK in May, kind of compensates for all that.  But in all other areas, the technology and the ‘toys’ are amazingly cool.  There’s WiFi everywhere, and every meeting is presented with a 'proper' TV-quality video! …I suppose there’s no need for OHP’s or Powerpoint presentations here when they're professional television-show makers!

I also thought is was really cool when I purchased some train tickets online, and was able to collect the tickets myself by printing them off at our very own self-serve national rail ticket machine ...just down the lobby!


We're also encouraged to keep in touch with our colleagues around the country via Instant Messenger and they've even got 'YAMMER' - a kind of internal BBC Facebook, where we can network with everyone from the Commisioner General to the photocopier guy!

There are TV and radio-types milling about everywhere and in general, just as I imagined, there really is a very cool vibe about the place.

The infamous ‘BBC Canteen’ is actually a very pleasant restaurant, attached to ‘BBC Club’ - a proper bar, where I’ve already seen North West Tonight’s Tony Livesey, Gordon Burns and his co-presenter Ranvir Singh.

The plush surroundings of the bar at 'BBC Club',
...with Ranvir Singh from NWT supping her coffee on the left.

Then there are the work-hours, which are just 35 per week.  Holiday-entitlement is a generous 25 days per year, plus all the bank holidays.  And then, there's the annual 'Corporation Day' - an additional bank holiday between Christmas and New Year especially for BBC employyes!  AND ...On top of all this, Children in Need staff also get a FURTHER two days holiday at Christmas, (for all the extra hard work and effort put in around the televised Appeal Night!).

Oh, and did I mention there are also some very hot chicks to look at? ...and there are LOTS of them!

Looking up
The week had improved so much so, that the significant Wednesday had passed me by without me even checking my e-mails for the latest update from JD Williams.  My goodness ...even my football team was winning back-to-back away games for the first time in years!  Things really were looking up!

Another good night of sleep ensued and it was during my journey on the Thursday morning that I discovered the following e-mail from Richard:

“Hi mate,

Met up with the boss man et al today.

Agreed we should recruit a copywriter, although the rest of the team will follow in June, due to some business changes that need to happen first.

Simon & myself are to pull together a role/job description for the director to agree and sign-off.

Fingers crossed, will be in touch sometime next week.

Rich”

Wow!!! After a couple of really great days at work, I received the very news I'd been desperate for just a few short days later.  But things had improved significantly since then and if my understanding and enjoyment of the job continued to advance at a similar rate over the next few days, what on earth would I do if I was offered a job?! 

The Here And Now

It’s now just over a week since that e-mail from Richard, and I’m expecting to hear the outcome of that job description, (and possibly even a job offer) …any day around now!

During that time though, I’ve finally begun to settle in to my new role and although there isn’t quite the freedom to be as ‘creative’ as I'd like to be, the positives of this wonderful organisation that we all know and love are far outweighing the negatives.  this is the bloody BBC after all!


Whilst it’s true that my first week-or-so was a complete disaster, the tragedies in Japan certainly put sleepless nights, Man-Flu, a difficult introduction to a new job and a family bereavement into perspective somewhat.

The question is …what happens next?

Feet under the table ...and name on the door!

Until next time, thanks for your patience, thanks for reading, and many blessings!

Jason x

The Return of Blogger Boy ...Part I

Fridays …they’re back!

It was another glorious Friday and as I stood at the platform awaiting the train to take me home and officially bring my working week to its close, there was time to stand quietly.  And think.

It was already the end of the second week of my new job with the BBC and what a wonderfully jubilant feeling it was to have that classic 'Friday Feeling' coursing through my veins once again.

This hugely underestimated and wonderfully triumphant 'Friday Feeling' is something I recalled writing about a lot in my dark days of unemployment, and during that time, I made a vow to myself never to take this awesome end-of-week celebration for granted ever again.

After all, 'that Friday Feeling' is a well-earned privilege and is also one that should be exploited in full by those who deserve it.  Sure …'normal' stuff still needs to be done, whether it be house work, responsibly looking after the kids or doing your 'Friday-Big-Shop'.  But the sheer release of your work-related responsibility, the cooling of that organisational pressure gauge and the clearing of your mind is always a delight to behold.

It’s akin to a green light for that Ferrari driver, with nothing but a clear highway and a blue sky ahead.  It's that 5’o clock whistle that represents the ultimate thumbs-up to two entire days and nights without suit, corporate IT restraints and over-pleasant telephone mannerisms!  The weekend has landed and with it, you’re given the permission to unleash and do whatever it is you enjoy doing the most.  

Wanna get plastered? Wanna get your hair did and go shopping? Wanna watch a DVD and have a bottle of wine tonight? …You got it!!

Perhaps you can't be bothered cooking and fancy a take away?

Perhaps you want to eat take-away’s for the next three days solid?

Perhaps you want to walk for miles and miles, up fell and down dale, with your faithful doggy companion?

Perhaps you want to spend hours washing the car, watching your favourite football team or maybe you want to go ballroom dancing?

Maybe you want to lock yourself in your bedroom, watch a shelf-full of box-sets and do a big fat bugger-all for 72 hours!

Whatever is it that tickles your fancy, the whole weekend is in the palms of your hands and it all starts with that Friday Feeling.  It was my first 'proper' Friday back in the real world ...and it was damn good to be back!

Familiar faces …and forgetting names.

As I walked up the platform at the station that Friday to catch the train home, I saw a man that looked strikingly familiar.

As he chatted away to his friend, I could see that he still had that oh-so-recognisable smiley face.  That very specific kind of mouth that naturally seems to curl upwards at its edges.  I looked again and realised that this was one of those human beings that's permanently blessed with a cheery disposition.

I looked at him again, but still couldn't put a name to his cheery face.  He still had on his trademark brown overcoat, but I was struggling to put even a time, or even a place to his face.  Where the bobbins did I know this guy from?

I inquisitively moved closer and hit the mute button on my iPod. The voice was now becoming annoyingly familiar, but despite several scratches of the head and long strokes of my imaginary long whiskers, I still couldn't figure out where the heck I knew this suited and booted soul from.

And even at the time of writing, I sit a picture his boat race as clear as a bell, but I STILL haven't managed to work it out.  So why am I telling this little tale then?

Well, after all that platform pondering about the 'mysterious smiley man', and further pondering still as I sit to write this passage, I’m guessing that once upon a time, I used to work with this gentleman.  Perhaps I didn’t work with him directly, or perhaps I didn’t work with him for long, but I’m almost certain that I worked with him in some capacity, even if he was just a work-related external contact or someone within a former professional network.

The point I'm badly trying to make is, as I’ve had sooooo many jobs over the past few years, I’ve actually lost track of all the different people I’ve met!  I've been and worked in so many different places, it's little wonder I couldn’t remember his bloomin’ name!  And this makes me feel a little sad.

Thinking back, there’s been so many times over recent years when people have come up to me and asked "How’s it goin’ Jason?" or asked a random question like "How’s your Dad getting on”,or "Are you still playing football". I’ve walked away after full ten-minute conversations some times and I still haven’t had a bloody clue whom it was I’d just been speaking to!

I've often thought that these random chats are of a result of my DJ’ing, where I’ve been in a whole host of social environments and perhaps people have known me, a little better than I have known them?  Perhaps I’ve just drunk too much alcohol in said environments and then totally forgotten about meeting my new found friends? Or maybe it’s just that I’m terrible at remembering names?  Either way, I feel a little guilty about this and at this point, I feel it important to point out that I’m not 'boasting' about the fact that I'm known by lots of people.  And I’m certainly not proud that I don’t remember their names. 

In fact, I’m so used to being ‘the new guy’, that I usually always go out my way to say “hello” when I’m in a meet-and-greet environment.  I’ll often be the first to go over and introduce myself and politely ask what the other peoples names are.  The problem is, I’ll then walk away and instantaneously, I'll forget it!!!

So, this simple rendezvous with ‘the man-with-no-name’ actually helped me draw a huge, thick, double underline under the story I'm about to share with you.

It's been a huge couple of weeks.  And after all, I never want to be in a position again where I’ve moved on so much, that I can’t remember peoples names.   It was time that I finally planted some roots ...and laid some foundations that would stay for a long time to come.

Back to the future

I kicked off today’s blog with all that marvellous talk of a Friday Feeling, experienced on the second Friday of my new job .  But what of the previous Friday?  And what of my first fortnight at work with the BBC?

By the end of week one, I was greeted by a warm sunshine in a bright blue sky, but I was so glad to get to the end of this particular week, that it was 'a Friday Feeling' from a totally different dimension.  It had been a week in which I'd been fighting a losing battle against three evil enemies, and I was almightily relieved to have gotten to the end.

Enemy number one

Now, I'm not well known as being a sickly-child.  'Injured' …Certainly.  But ‘poorly’ …Nicht.

Like most people, I'm prone to the occasional cold or an achy limb, and I openly admit to being absolutely terrible at handling a hangover.  But other than my reoccurring knee problem, I rarely suffer with headaches, tummy aches or any of the usual suspects that might keep us from attending work.

Imagine my frustration then, when my first week of work was blighted by a full blown, totally out-of-the-blue, full-on-snotty common cold of epic proportions.  Yes, those dastardly buggers had got me good-and-proper and decided to take their spring break right inside my sinuses.  And they weren't willing to pack-up and go anywhere else without a fight. 

Female readers in particular will know exactly the kind of cold I’m talking about.  It’s that mysterious variety that only seems to attack us poor people with tinkles in our pants.  I'm certain that these supersonic-germs prey only upon us blokes and when doing so, execute their onslaught with great skill when man is at his weakest.

Right on cue for the start of my new job, I’d been totally slam-dunked by a full-on bout of man-flu, hitting my system like a truck-load of Accy Nori's and rendering me in a less-than-perfect condition for the hugely important week ahead.

Starting off with the traditional 'scratchy' sore throat the day before I was supposed to 'burst on the scene', the wind was well and truly knocked out of my sails in the days that followed....

With a bunged-up nose, a sore throat and "atishoo"s aplenty, my cold was followed by the ever-so-attractive 'Tommy Tap-Nose' look, in which every orifice leaks seems to leak a constant green gloop.  Mix-in a red raw conk and a banging head-ache for three days on the trot and it's fair to say I was a bit ‘off-colour' for my first week at work.

All this though, was compounded by evil enemy number two, which, with the common cold as its evil side-kick, comprehensively body-slammed me right from the top rope!

The cold had flattened me to the canvas, but in hindsight, I did receive a little forewarning about the second enemy in this tag-team assault.

Enemy number two

For some time now,  I've been struggling with sleep.  Perhaps I should have tackled this issue a long time before this war got ugly, but what with my relatively 'inactive' lifestyle over the last couple of months, the pressure was off to maintain normal sleep.  I was hoping I'd slip back into a 'normal' sleep-pattern, when my 'normal' life resumed...

Now that the hyena-like common cold had sneakily crept its way into my immune system, it was time for the lion to come the party.  A cold was child splay to deal with, but now, my long-term nemesis and true arch-enemy was to make his move and reap sheer havoc.

Step forward, the evil bastard that is ....Mr. Sandman.

As expected, I didn't have the best of night's sleep the night before my first day at work.  In fact, it's probably standard practice that most of us don't sleep particularly well the night before a big day.

Personally, I've often wondered how professional footballers manage to get a good night’s kip on the eve of a big match, particularly when it’s a big final or a World Cup game.  Surely they get nervous?  And surely, they’re banned from taking any sleep-inducing drugs or drinking alcohol.  In my book, they really must have nerves of steel, particularly to handle the pressure of the modern day game and perhaps that's one of the reasons why they get paid so much?

So, I didn't sleep at all well the night before my first day and with a restless night’s sleep, I would be relying on pure adrenalin alone to help me get me through day one.

And so it was that day one passed, as I met my new colleagues, completed the usual round of induction tasks, and took the fledgling steps into my new role.  Day one was also interspersed with a lunch Monica ‘the big boss’ from capital city, a conference call with my Newcastle-based colleague and a building-wide presentation about the forthcoming move to MediaCityUK.

By the time I got home, my mind was jam-packed with a plethora of new information, which I’d been trying to take on board despite the restless night before.  I was well and truly ready for a good night’s sleep.

That night, I did all the right things, including ‘chilling-out’ for a while, watching a bit of TV and relaxing with a hot milk before lights-out at about 10pm.  With that rubbish night of sleep the night before, I was determined to get a good eight hours in, and so I led there and attempted to stack some zeds up.  But I led there.  And I led there.  And I led there.

Before I knew it, it was fast approaching 2am and I was STILL no closer to getting to a wink of sleep.  My mind was awash with all the images, information and experiences of the day and despite trying my very best, I just couldn’t seem to switch-off at all.  As time passed by and the wake-up alarm drew ever-closer, panic started to creep in: The clock continued to tick, and I was acutely aware that I needed to be up for work in less than five hours.  But suddenly, those five hours became four and then, those four hours became three.  The more and more I thought about it, the harder it became. 

I think it was around 4:15am that night when I last looked at the time, and with less than two hours sleep, I arrived for my second day in work in a complete and utter mess. 

Full of a cold and now desperately tired, it was already becoming difficult to take on board the myriad of information before me, the new-how-to-do instructions and soak up a brand new way of everyday-working.  By way of apology, I explained my sleep disaster to my boss and new colleagues, whilst still frantically trying to make the best first impression possible.

But being friendly and eager is one thing; However, attempting to be full of beans and bounding with exuberance - when all I really wanted to do was sleep - was quite another.

Step forward then, the friendly and helpful world of the Facebook community.  Briefly documenting my troublesome lack of sleep via my status update, I got a whole host of helpful advice and handy tips.

On the train home, I checked the eclectic mix of Facebook responses:  “Do some calf, quad and stomach stretches”, advised Andy, “How about a bit of ‘how’s your father’” suggested Jodie.  “Lavender spray might do the trick” said Victoria, whilst Kitty reassuringly blamed the position of the moon in its current cycle!  The Dunston’s suggested a Nytol washed down with Horlicks, whilst my old mate Jack Daniels was also thrown into the mix on more than one occasion by a number of different sources.  With an ever-increasing shopping list, I hit Sainsbury’s and collected a plethora of goodies that Grotbags herself would have been proud to concoct.

A wizards brew: Add lavender spray, and a sleep-mask for full effect.

Earlier that day, I’d also spent my entire lunchtime googling ‘Sleep deprivation’ and ‘Insomnia’ and came across “Sleep Right Now: the answer to all your sleep problems” - a sleep psychology CD from a Dr. Mike Brescia, based in New York City.  I was desperate for a good night of sleep, so I popped it in my online basket and paid the required $41.00 without a second thought, in order to get the bugger quickly shipped across the Atlantic without further ado.

As I was still with the sniffles, the sneezes and the dribbles, I guessed the Jack Daniels wouldn’t go amiss and might even help kill off some of those pesky Man-Flu bugs.  Upon my return home, I immediately sunk a couple of glasses of the goodstuff, washed down with a cold can of Coca-Cola.  Then, at around 8:30, I mixed up a Horlicks, popped in a Nytol and sprayed my pillow with a healthy helping of fresh-smelling lavender spray.  I dug out an old in-flight sleep-mask and probably through sheer exhaustion above all-else, I actually managed a decent night’s sleep.

With a couple of wake-up’s, it wasn’t a perfect sleep by any stretch of the imagination, but it was certainly much better than the two nights that had gone before.  The next two night’s followed the same pattern, with various chunks of sleep-time, peppered with a wide variety of emotions from panic to excitement and anxiety to peacefulness.  Rather strangely, I began experiencing a whole host of very weird, very random and even a few explicit dreams!!

By the end of the week, I had a mouth full of ulcers, the skin complexion of a pair of tough old boots and bags under my eyes that were so big, even SJP herself would've been proud to carry them.

But worryingly, I was finding it extremely difficult to take in all the new data, new details and new processes at work.  I was finding it tough to concentrate, and was beginning to worry if this really was the job for me.  In short, I was a confused, exhausted and an emotional wreck ...and I really hadn’t enjoyed my new job at the BBC at all. 

After experiencing such excitement, anticipation and the unbridled joy of relief in the two weeks leading up to my new job, my world had flip-reserved in the short-space of just four days.  I was desperate for that Friday feeling to arrive, but for all the wrong reasons.

Thank God then that it was the weekend, and a perfectly timed opportunity for some much needed rest and battery re-charging.

Unfortunately though, it was about to get a whole lot worse...

The night from hell

It all started so well.

Although I hadn't had any late lie-in marathons over the weekend, I did have myself a couple of fairly decent sleeps by the time Sunday had arrived.

The itinerary for the day was one to look forward to: Meet up at around 1pm with my Uncle John - an uncle by name, but one of my best friends by nature.  We were then scheduled to catch the train to Manchester, check into our hotel, have a few afternoon scoops, watch a bit of football, snaffle some tea and finally, we were heading off to watch Liam Gallagher's new band 'Beady Eye' at the o2 Academy in the evening.

What’s more, the hotel I'd booked just a few days before commencing my new job was in a bang-tidy location!

I knew it was 'close' to New Broadcasting House...but it was actually right across the street and literally just a few steps away from work. ...Bingo!

This was the view from my hotel room. Note the distance from
New Broadcasting House, just over the road: "Perfect".

So, not only would my commute time and distance be reduced by an entire 99.9%, but I'd also have the added bonus of a Monday morning lie-in! ...Score!

But my picture-perfect vision of a pleasant Monday morning in Manchester was to be a long way from the reality.  This is the story of what happened next:

Perhaps I'd been given a 'sign' that it wasn't quite going to be as straightforward as I'd originally planned.  After a few shandies and a chance meeting with my old friends Babs and John, we headed off further away from the hotel in search of Sky-TV-football and sustenance.

Wherever there's a full English on the menu, it'll be ordered by your writer and true-to-form, this particular plate-full of stodge was gobbled down with glee and my usual level of lip-smacking enthusiasm. Simple pleasures for a simple man anyone?

My tea-time British Brekki came with all the usual trimmings and also, with a hugely generous pot of tommy sauce. Yumtastic!

...But as I dipped my toast into my sauce-pot, my focus was on the game and not on what it should have been; what was coming towards my mouth!

Unbeknownst to me, the toast had picked-up the entire sauce pot and as you can imagine, the following image brought tears of joy to my Uncle!

A spot of bother: Ooooh ...Saucy!

So it was back to the hotel for a quick change of my bottom-half before heading back to the nearest watering hole.  Although I didn't know it at the time, this was the part of my night when my entire plan of perfection truly started to go tits-up!

As my previous week had actually started on a Tuesday, the following day was to be the first Monday.  I was still very conscious of making an excellent first impression, so I certainly didn't want to be sloping in the office in a dishevelled state, stinking of stale ale.  What’s more, with my poor track record of handling hangovers, I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it if truth be known!

So, at this point, I decided to cease with the lagers and start drinking coffee instead. Already, I'd been spending sporadic sections of the day 'worrying' about getting a good nights sleep and here I was, drinking coffee, so I wouldn't be waking up rough the following morning.

As further friends began to join us and the party got louder, I concentrated on the main event of the gig ...and more importantly, the even bigger 'event' of a good night's sleep.

It was already 20 past nine when Liam Gallagher swaggered his way on to the stage and I was getting to thinking that this was usually about the time that I'd indulged in my weekly testosterone hit of Top Gear and should really be tucked-up with my flat-cap and Horlicks by now.

As it was, the gig was awesome and we wandered home on foot in the fresh night air, arriving at our hotel just after 11pm, via a trip to Subway.

I had a wash, laid out my suit for the following day and snuggled under the sheets whilst our John tapped away at his phone and watched a bit of TV.  An hour later, it was reassuring to know that even though I couldn't get to sleep,  John was in no rush to sleep either.  But as soon as he switched off the TV and switched-off his lamp on his side of the room, I clearly remember saying to him "I'm going to be well peeved now, if you fall asleep before I do".

Within five minutes, he was snoring like a trooper.  And I led there staring at the ceiling.  And I led there again.  And I led there again.

The most annoying thing of all was that I was physically, and mentally tired.  I wanted to go to sleep and my mind and body needed a rest.  But try as I might, I just couldn’t switch my brain off once again.  I'd already started to think about work and was scanning through all the things that had passed by during the previous week, surveying the conversations that had taken place.  But then I’d start doing stupid things like planning my make-believe future or spending my lottery win.  At some points, I was even singing obscure songs in my head!

Now to quote bad boy rapper Eminem, this was "when some real crazy shit started going down".   I was now getting desperate for sleep now and thinking back now, I was actually in a state of utter delirium.  'Almost-sleeps' clashed with b
ad, bad dreams and paranoia began to creep in.   All that thinking about travelling and commuting had merged into thoughts of train tracks and what I'm about to tell you was waaaay off the scale.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm a totally normal, totally rational sort of guy.

But as 5am approached and I still hadn't slept, those train-track thoughts began to merge with my sub-conscious and I was so tired, I started to think of excuses for not being in work, in just a few hours time.  I don't know where my head was at during this flash point, but I created an awful vision of falling off a platform and landing on the rails, just in time for the Express train to slice me up! 

My Uncle John awoke for a toilet visit as six am approached, and I was STILL awake.  A short time later, I eventually fell asleep.  Why, oh why didn't I just get pissed!! ...It really was the night from hell. 

By the time the morning arrived, I was a dead man walking, totally transparent and completely devoid of any passion, excitement or zest for my new job. As the great man famously sang "as he faced the sun, he cast no shadow".

I was dead in every sense of the word, other than the fact my heart was beating. Still carrying the remnants of a particularly bad cold, I'd gone an entire night without a wink of sleep and I was in a bad way.

Enemy Three

After the night from hell and the difficulty of week one, self-doubt had started to creep in.  Was my dream job at the BBC already over, before it had even begun?

To find out what happened next, check out "The Return of Blogger-Boy…Part 2” tomorrow!