Onward!!

This girl comes up to me at work, visibly distraught. She explains in English that she has a friend somewhere in the store. Confused, I ask what’s wrong. “I do not know where he is, can I use your machine?” She points at the PA microphone.

“I’m sorry, we cannot let you use the machine,” I reply, offering that I can announce that she is looking for her friend.

“He doesn’t understand English!” she moans, and I feel I can’t help her at all. “I cannot teach you Chinese!”

After a short think, she asks me for a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly writing down the person’s name in western script and two Chinese characters, she pronounced what I was to say. I asked her to repeat the message a few times, steeled myself and turned on the microphone.

I did the best I could. Apparently, it went fine, because she thanked me profusely and disappeared downstairs. I presume I asked her friend to come down to the main doors to meet her.

So I spoke Chinese at work today. My co-workers were visibly impressed, and quite astounded to be honest.

Along with my work contract, I got handed a form where I was to consent to the following things: To be searched on a random basis when exiting the premises, take drugs tests if so asked and to not hold any other position “that could compromise the operation or aims of the company”. I have a bit of beef with each one of these, though the first one I accept as kind of mandatory when working in a retail environment where the staff have free access in and out of the premises.

While I wholly approve of a drug-free work environment, both for the safety aspect of customers and co-workers alike as well as the general trust that I implicitly place in those I work with, I’m not sure I’m cool with random drugs tests like this one. The fact is, according to Finnish law, you have to have a serious concern for either the safety of the work environment or security concerns arising from substance abuse to warrant testing of an employee. When talking about the form with people, I realized that I should have asked whether everyone in the company has to sign the consent form – or is it just for the low-level sales employees? Do managerial staff have to supplement their current contracts, or is this only for new employees hired after a certain date?

Would this kind of law be passed in the UK? Does something similar already exist? I can’t help thinking – despite what some see as the ever-eroding civil liberties of the population – that employee drug tests would be seen as a Big Brother measure, very likely to be abused by the employer. Then again, it’s much more easy to fire people in the UK, meaning that you wouldn’t have to go so far as actually prove a cause to test an employee, conduct the test and use the results for a reason to dismiss that person.

Not holding a position that would go against the aims of the company I’m working for kind of seems redundant. If I aim to work for a company, why would I work for a competitor or a group opposed to the company’s views? Is the time I spend working for the company not enough? Even if I did want to work for another company and use my knowledge of this one to their advantage, how common is that in a retail environment? It just seems like overkill.

Oh well, I signed both the contract and the consent form. It’s only for two months and I have no intention to steal from the company, spread company secrets (or spend my precious free time working for somebody else) nor to use illicit substances. It’s just that I’m a bit worried if this kind of stuff is going to get more commonplace. I feel some of the requirements do infringe on personal freedom of the employee in some way.

Apparently, as Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher slept only 4 hours a night. For some reason, I simply could not fall asleep the night before my first day at work. Maybe it was the unfamiliar location, maybe it was stress, or maybe it was the bits of jet lag that made midnight (especially with the abundant light) seem like evening. Eventually after fretting, thinking, reading, showering, sitting on the balcony and who knows what else I managed to catch around 3 hours of sleep.

Somehow, I did drag myself to work. Looking bleary-eyed, I got handed what was to be my work uniform and told to get on with pre-opening preparations. My tiredness seemed to fade with work, and especially with meeting my co-workers again. They were all really nice and welcoming. It made coming back, despite it being a retail job, pleasant.

In fact, at one point, standing on the shop floor wearing an ill-fitting polo short and chinos two inches too wide at the waist, remembering everything to do with the job like I was just returning from a long holiday, snappily answering questions, I felt that everything was exactly the way it was meant to be.

Everything still seems almost magical. Though I’m working, all this seems like a holiday with an ease of finding everything untouched upon coming home. Cramped shared flats, crowded tubes, hazy air and constant hurry seem a world away. It will probably change, but I’m enjoying it now.

Despite trying to plan everything efficiently, I was half an hour late leaving for Heathrow. As the time ticked away, it seemed impossible to make it through check-in and security checks without running through them.

Eventually, having taken off shoes and emptied pockets and laptop from my bag several times, it was time to board the plane. It seemed like the nuns who had preceded us at all points had with them some divine provenance, because it all flowed perfectly. That’s about the time when the pilot declared that due to stormy weather approaching London, air traffic control weren’t letting any planes fly for an hour. So there we sat, holed up in a tube, with complementary drinks of water served to cool off our tempers.

It’s amazing how a little gimmick can take your mind off negative things, though. The overhead monitors that show a safety animation were left on at takeoff, showing live camera feeds from the front of the plane, with it taxiing and aligning itself on the runway. Watching the takeoff, with the runway just dropping out of sight was pretty cool. Then they switched to a below-facing camera, showing buildings, rivers and roads below us, before showing facts about the flight and plane overlaid on a map.

Landing in Helsinki was a bit surreal. The light lingered above the horizon despite it being past midnight, casting everything in a slightly purplish glow. Nature seemed to overwhelm everything man-made, exactly the opposite of what I had just left. We were out with our baggage within 10 minutes of the plane making a stop, which must be some sort of record time for me. Despite having resigned to taking a cab because the plane wasn’t meant to be there on time anyway, I managed to get on the last bus to my destination, and even had money on my travelcard left over!

The bus we took wound round the streets through residential areas off the main thoroughfares. Everything was absolutely peaceful. Few people boarded the bus, and it mostly just made its way without stopping. There were next to no lights in any windows, and I wondered why until it dawned that it was indeed the Midsummer weekend when everyone and their aunt is away from town. The air smelled crisp, cool and fresh – the same way it looked. After the perpetual haze of London, the visibility was excellent. I felt like a smoker taking in those deep breaths of air, being able to finally fill my lungs all the way.

There is something to be said about this rugged but lush beauty, this silence and peace, the familiar flavours of food served to the arrivals as a midnight snack. I guess I am home.

I was pretty excited to go see Paradise Lost again after having been tipped off to their good new album, In Requiem. The last time I saw them was back in Helsinki, where their set was all right but sound problems and some sort of lack of energy prevented it being a great gig. This time around was completely different. They were opening for Type O Negative, meaning an even shorter setlist, which meant that they really had to get everyone going in the time they had. Nick Holmes seemed to be in a good mood, playing for the “good Southern folk” and the rest of the band visibly enjoyed themselves as well. I was pretty pumped for the rest of the night.

The rest of the night can be summed up as “What the hell, Peter Steele?”. In what seemed like making fun of the audience (or themselves?) they played 20-some minutes of the Chicken Dance before their set. Everything seemed to be fab as the band finally came on stage, with bassist/vocalist Steele swaggering rather pompously on stage. It all went downhill from there, though.

I’m not sure if as a concert-goer I’m allowed to be pissed off and dissappointed at the lack of coherent hits played by a band. Surely they have a right to play exactly what they want on stage, it being their bread and butter? By the same token, though, hearing the songs they want to hear is what brings the audience to gigs. I realize that a band only playing their hit songs will wear out their welcome pretty quickly, but playing a muddled-sounding 15-minute prog-infused crock of a song is not the way to win the audience over. In fact, most people just stood silently for most of the gig – that is, those that didn’t boo the band when they went offstage for a bit.

The rest of the band was great, though. While Steele looked increasingly absent and didn’t seem to play for half the time, the energetic guitarwork and drumming really helped to keep the thing going. To an extent, at least. The rest of the band really seemed to enjoy their time on stage. It was sad that the frontman chose to sit down for parts of the gig and when he did sing, sound like a toothless pub singer. I mean, his voice was there but he sang half-heartedly and with a distinct lack of consonants. Apparently, the band’s intention was to play their less-played tracks on this tour along with new material. I hadn’t gotten the memo, and neither had most of the crowd.

I got the feeling that all the band wanted (in their self-deprecating gimmick ways) was for the entire audience not to clap and cheer, but to boo them offstage. Then they would come back and do a real set. But my hopes in that and in humanity were dashed as the crowd did cheer after every song. Only at the end of their set did they play “Love You to Death” (Steele did mutter “I think” after the song title, possibly as a reference to his absentminded playing during the song) and “Black no. 1″, which was saved by Kenny Hickey’s voice and rock ‘n roll attitude.

Really, a rather disappointing evening. I did feel cheated out of my £18, even though Paradise Lost were good. Does put me off from going to see Type O Negative again, though. Too bad their new album is bad too.