“Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”
Said Groucho Marx. I’ve not had the pleasure of owning a dog (yet) so I can’t compare, but I do know that I love reading.
I used to think this was a really ‘geeky’ thing to say, but now I think it’s brilliant. I like reading. There, I said it again. It’s the only thing I have ever known I was good at from a young age.
One of my earliest childhood memories is learning to read phrases on cards that were kept in ex-butter containers (those were the days). Every week in my reception class in Featherstone, we’d be taken out of class to read our sentences ranging from simple to the complex. I remember one day, my teacher was at a loss at what to do with me – I was already reading books, never mind sentences, and my butter container couldn’t take any more overlapping stickers that had been rewarded to me.
Even more perplexing was where my non-Yorkshire accent came from. Having been born and raised in West Yorkshire, it was, and still is, peculiar how I never really adopted the proper Yorkshireness. Interestingly, my first ever words were in Cantonese – apparently it was ‘bow tsee’, which means ‘newspaper’…I guess it’s fate that I am a bit of a bookworm.
Anyway, Monday 23rd April is World Book Night. I am pretty excited that I was chosen to give away 24 copies of one of my favourite books, ‘Rebecca’ by Daphne du Maurier. One of my reasons for applying is nothing beats a good, traditional book. Nothing compares to the smell and feel, something physical to hold and flick through. As you may be able to tell, I am not really a fan of these ‘kindle’ things – it just doesn’t feel the same. I mean, the library would look so boring.
I collected my copies from Shoreditch Library the other day (with a lot of effort) and may have got a little bit over excited over the prospect of having so many copies of a brilliant book.
My un-intentional newly found status of being laid back meant I didn’t actually revise until the night before. It wasn’t until then I panicked slightly because I realised I needed 43 out of 50 to pass, my half-hearted attempt at the mock test resulted in 38. In the end, I received 48 and my piece of paper telling me I had passed and I now have 2 years to pass my practical test.
I realised later on that day that no-one cares about this fact.
They all passed when they were 17. They actually have a car they can drive.
…Hayley Chow (me) in Hong Kong for (the Chinese) New Year. Hong Kong is definitely one of my favourite cities in the world (well, I can’t really judge – I’m not at that stage yet where I can say I have been to all the major cities in the world – but one day).
So, it was the first time in my life that I had been to Hong Kong without dread, or fuss, or even annoyance (yes, I used to think that when Mother would one day decide I would need to go to Hong Kong – it was just too inconvenient for me, the 14 year old me just had too many things going on). I’ve been to HK every 4 years since I was born, but 2012 was when I felt I truly appreciated having a family there and being able to call it ‘home’. Even though I have never lived there properly, as soon as I landed, I could smell the HK air, and it felt like home.
This was part of the 12 course banquet with my family awaiting after my arrival. It was exactly what was needed after a 12 hour flight, not much sleep and slight jet lag.
Celebrating the Chinese New Year is a big event – it lasts for around 15 days. Every village started out with people of the same surname, so this was our own street party style celebrations.
As 2012 is already shaping up to be a big year (at least that’s what everyone says…every year), I thought I would take a look back on 2011.
2011 has been an eventful year for me, which I honestly thought would only happen a few more years down the line. However, as I am currently (gloating) sat in my chair in my London flat; I now live by the phrase ‘no time like the present’.
5 days into the year (and 3 days after returning from the London New Years Fireworks), I made my way to London from Wakefield with my bursting little suitcase with full intentions of finding a job there, with the encouragement of London Relative (who is now subsequently known as New York Relative). My exact words to Mother Chow were that I had an interview for an internship lined up and will stay for a few weeks afterwards just in case. This was not exactly a lie, I did see someone about an internship, but I was 99.9% sure I would not be returning within the month (I hoped).
Highlight: Experiencing a glimpse of London life.
A few weeks into my internship at KnowHow NonProfit, and a few weeks into applying for every single internship/part-time/full-time/temp/over-qualified/under-qualified job going I saw a re-tweet from Bright One about a Programme Administrator for the Taylor Bennett Foundation. Looking back now, I cannot decide whether it was pure luck I saw that or destiny calling me (ok, I’ll stop with the cheese now).
If you follow Hayley’s COMmEnT, you’ll know the story of how I did not get the job as administrator but applied for the PR internship, the gruelling Assessment Day, where quite frankly, I thought I was completely out of my depth and the phone call saying I had made it into 1 of the 6 places. Happy as Larry (whoever Larry is).
Highlight: Attending London Fashion Week on the second day of the internship and being taken behind the scenes before the show. A truly fantastic day.
Internship in full swing; I was thoroughly enjoying meeting new people left, right and centre; learning this, that and everything; working all day, and at times all night. I was completely exhausted come the weekend (and even then occasionally I was still working) but I relished every single moment. If only this was a full time job. I once told someone at a networking event that it was “the best ten weeks of my life”.
Highlight: Seeing my face in the Evening Standard along with my fellow interns. Also, the birth of my blog name, I was inspired by an off-hand example used at a PRCA training course I attended, and of course Halley’s Comet.
All good things must come to an end, and sadly it was time to pop our TBF bubble. Not before one final presentation though at the M & C Saatchi offices…
On a more personal level, NY Relative had officially set the wheels in motion for her big move to The Big Apple, and so inadvertently, I became her PA.
Let’s not forget the Royal Wedding either, and the hoo-hah that was Pippa’s bum. I still can’t see it, what is the big deal?
Highlight: Leaving the internship feeling like an adult. I don’t think I have ever been that confident as I did then.
New York! New York! Sister Chow and I decided to check out New York for a week. For a first time trip to the Big Apple, I absolutely loved it. I mean I appeared in Fabolous’s video whilst out there (still available to see by the way), I think that’s a sure sign I am destined for big things there.
Highlight: Living the New York life for a week.
Unemployment loomed over me, but I was determined not to let that dampen my spirits. The job applying continued non-stop. I think I was applying for around 5 jobs everyday. It was tiring work. It was also my birthday this month and on a random trip around Wimbledon, I found one of my favourite moments captured on my camera.
Highlight: NY Relative’s (early) leaving party, having to organise the packing of the flat, moving into the new flat, packing for NY. This marked an end of an era in SE London – also known as my second home since I was about 10 years old – but welcome EC London and my attempts at being ‘trendy’, and being a real grown up.
Slowly, but surely I was beginning to feel lethargic about being still un-employed. However, one morning I decided to go in ‘all guns blazing’ as they say, I wrote my CV as a press release and sent it to the list of desired workplaces, whether they were looking for someone or not. It turns out that jobs can also be like guys (not that that has ever happened to me); they can all come along at once, just don’t give up. The next day, I went for an interview in Fulham, and that’s what happened, I, Hayley Chow, had finally managed to get myself my first ever PR job.
Highlight: Only my fellow peers will understand the feeling of being able to finally see the last instalment of, yes you guessed it, Harry Potter.
In September NY Relative moved to, well, New York. It was a tearful farewell, but mainly surprising as I am not one to ever cry publicly when it comes to showing real emotion. It’s unpredictable how distraught I will be when Sister Chow and BF leave for pastures new in Australia. It also dawned on me a few weeks later that I am living and working n London, on my own. It dawned on me that I am A PROPER GROWN UP.
Highlight: Having not been to many gigs this year, I was very much looking forward to Little Comets. It was a pretty good night, including the next day when I alone made my own bed from scratch, when the instructions said it would need 3 people. Albeit it took me 3 hours but I did it, and it has still not collapsed.
So this brings me to 2012. I gave up having New Year’s Resolutions after one year when my list was a whole A4 page long, but I think I have a few I want to make for this year:
To meet new people. There have been so many times when I feel I have been a bit too much of a pushover when it comes to friendships. I never thought I would say it, mainly because at first meeting I am usually quite sarcastic borderline horrible, but I am just too nice and I wonder if some of my ‘friends’ actually appreciate me.
To join pilates and signing up for the British 10k London Run.
[There comes a time in life when something unbelievably unjust happens that you cannot let it go until you get it off your chest. Well here is mine.]
My mobile phone was stolen nearly a month ago and so I followed standard procedures with the police and the insurance company (referred to as A) to make a claim. I was in contact with one of the employees (referred to as D) for nearly three weeks, when I was told that my replacement phone would be sent to me. I asked D if I would need to be at home to sign for it, to which D replied saying the courier will post a card through my door if I am not at home.
On Monday 28th November 2011, I found a ‘Sorry we missed you’ card from the courier (referred to as C) pinned on the notice board on the bottom floor of my block of flats, instead of through my letterbox.
No recipient name was stated on the card, I flatshare so a name would have been useful. As nobody had claimed it and I was expecting a parcel, I assumed it was my phone.
That same evening (before 23:00 as rules stated), I called C to arrange a re-delivery, however the automated phone service was inadequate as none of the options available suited me.
I wanted to arrange the delivery to a time before 8:30, or to my work address.
The next morning, I called C again to be told that requests would only be taken from the sender of the parcel.
I asked the advisor if that would be A, and the reply was yes, but it could not be guaranteed that the parcel would be delivered before that time even if it was requested.
Delivery time clearly states that deliveries start from 7:30.
I was aware that after the second attempt of a delivery, a re-delivery would not be allowed, and so it was obvious that a second delivery would not be necessary until I had contacted A.
In the afternoon I emailed D and requested help with this matter to re-arrange delivery of my phone.
I received a reply, stating that I should call a company (referred to as 2), who actually send out the phones.
I call 2 and they advise me that they need the details from A, and that I should call A.
I tell 2, that I already have, but they say they cannot do anything unless A contacts them.
[Confused yet?]
I call A and explain the situation; the advisor tells me she will email D to give me a call back.
Already frustrated with the amount of chasing I have had to endure, I email D myself asking for assistance.
D’s reply is below. I found the response somewhat unprofessional, as well as unhelpful. I would never contact one of my clients in this way, not only does it not include any sort of explanation, but I assumed as a paying customer it is A’s job to help me as their priority.
D did reply later on, but yet again, the response was unhelpful, essentially repeating what I had already told him. In some cases I had difficulty in understanding the e-mails as there are so many mis-spellings. The exchange of emails is below.
Not only that, but when I checked on the C’s website, I had seen that C had indeed attempted a second delivery, meaning that the only option was to travel to the Bermondsey area in the evening from Fulham, where I work.
I felt I was left with no choice and decided to make this inconvenient journey, as I wanted this situation to be resolved as quickly as possible, not knowing the farce it would turn out to be.
On Thursday 1st December 2011 at 19:10, I arrived at the C depot, where the employee at the reception desk told me that both forms of my identification (my driving licence and utility bill) were not valid, as my name did not match the name on the parcel.
Confused, I asked if it was my housemate’s name (referred to as H), to which the reply was yes. I told the employee that H is my housemate, who holds the joint insurance policy.
He then asks if the parcel is for me, and I reply yes.
I have solely been the one who has been dealing with A for three weeks.
At no pointover the past month did anyone from A, C or 2 tell me that the parcel would be in H’s name.
At no pointhas H ever had any sort of contact with A.
Furthermore, it is a JOINT insurance policy, and my name is clearly on the original document.
I was then told that the parcel would not be given to me. Not only this, the customer behind me then mocks me, in which the C employee replied by laughing, whilst I was still stood at the reception desk.
As I was clearly in a state of distress, I did not react. Instead, once the customer had left, I apologised, and tried to explain to the employee the situation, and asked if C would contact A to resolve this situation.
The employee tells me they will ask the manager. After several minutes, the employee emerges, with two other employees in orange fluorescent jackets.
The same employee tells me “My manager says the same thing”. All three employees do not say another word, and so I begin to pack away my things to leave. The employee gives me back my ‘Sorry we missed you’ card, and all three men continue to stare at me whilst I leave the building.
I found the whole time I was at C uncomfortable. In particular, the employee was not only unprofessional, but also unhelpful and disrespectful. Nobody at C even attempted to help me in any way, and I left feeling very angry and upset that as a customer I was being treated in this way.
I was already under a lot of stress of being robbed of my phone in the first place, the re-arrangement of delivery and wandering around in an unknown area of Bermondsey. The unprofessional and frankly, bizarre attitude of C staff only added to the stress.
In addition, it is a disgrace that A’s constant advice to me was to make phone calls to several companies, seeing as the original issue was that my phone had been stolen. At no point after sending out my £60 insurance excess, did I feel as though A were doing their best to help me resolve this, and I was not told necessary information that would have saved me a lot of stress. This inconvenient journey was not only a waste of my time; it was a waste of my money.
To add to this, I have had to use yet more time and money on making a second journey to C, as well as H making this journey to retrieve what I am rightfully entitled to.
I hope A and C will put in the necessary steps to recruit and train more suitably professional staff immediately especially as you claim to run a customer-facing “service”.
Since my phone has been stolen, it has only occurred to me just how much I depend on technology. This fact annoys me.
My temporary, new but old phone, is even more annoying. I am unable to predictive text anymore – to the point where I prefer calling people now instead of text. I can’t even check my emails until I log in to a real computer (shock horror). It doesn’t even have a camera, so I can’t capture all the little moments (mainly of food but still, that counts).
This has cemented me as Generation Y (but impartial to a bit of pen and paper letter writing).
