Numero Uno (sorry, it's gonna be long...but good)

When I was a teenager (which, admittedly, was not all that long ago), my father used to remark that I could whinge for New Zealand. "You'd get gold if that were an Olympic sport, Sarah" he'd chuckle. Now this has evolved into the art I call ranting. Not as in a ranting lunatic (well, I hope not anyways) but I somehow get into this groove of just writing and writing about crap that doesn't really matter to or interest anyone else. And I never know when to stop.

So I've started this blog basically to get down all my gripes with my professional life - if you can call what I do professional. I'm actually supposed to be a university student first and foremost, and would never jeopordise my studies, but my job is actually starting to consume me. If nothing because I love it so much.

Anyone who has ever dealt with the public or worked at the bottom of the food chain which, let's be honest, is where most people start, will immediately empathise with my upcoming rants. I'm actually incredibly lucky to do be doing my job while I'm at uni, I don't know any other students on my type of wage or who get the amazing amount of perks that I do. And considering I absolutely prayed to land this job while the (lengthy) interview process was going on, I can't be ungrateful. I'm not ungrateful. I reiterate this over and over.

I suppose I should actually kind of mention where I work. I work at the airport here for our national airline (that totally gives it away but I'm not entirely sure how explicit I can be about my employer so I'll play it safe). Obviously, I'm a customer service agent. I check in numerous throngs of people every day, listen to their complaints and perform miracles on getting them onto departing planes when they've slept in for their flights. As a bit of a closet planespotter (yes, a GIRL planespotter, good grief) this is all a bit of a dream for me.

That doesn't mean there are things that really get my goat though.

Let me recap - I'm nearly 22 and I've had...let me count...five jobs since I left school in 2002. I didn't finish school, not because I was dumb enough not to, but because I got so goddamn bored of the place that I started wagging class in a desperate attempt to make my parents see how much of a waste of time it was.

Cut me some slack, I was only 17. To be old and wise you must first be young and stupid, etc etc.

My first job was at a McDonald's in a mall in my hometown. I can say with absolute conviction it was the worst job I could ever imagine and not just for the terrifying first encounter with public dealings. I was paid $8 an hour to do physically demanding, unrelentless work for managers barely older than myself who thought they were royalty. The whole place was corrupt and nearly put me off work altogether.

But since then things have slowly got better, advancing to a sole charge receptionist in a real estate office and then a brief stint at my father's work doing admin and driving jobs. I could say I dealt with the public in all these jobs but I didn't really experience customer service until I started working in a call centre.

It was for a telecommunications company here (there are really only two and this was the smaller and therefore more bumbling of the two) and I suppose anything involving technology and the dire need to be contactable 24/7 is going to compound things when the shit hits the fan. I was called every name under the sun, 90-year old ladies would scream at me down the phone if I couldn't get their UKTV back on...once I even got threatened by a very angry South African man with a rifle. Not enough to make me terrified but still, enough to have me looking over my shoulder on my way to work for any grassy knolls.

I somehow survived there a year before I realised I wanted a little more than just these stop-gap jobs. Desperate to put my love of writing into something I could make a life out of, I packed up, said goodbye to the few friends I have back home and moved up to the capital city of Wellington to start university. My first nine months of uni were fantastic, didn't receive a mark below a B and surprisingly found myself passionate about what I was learning.

But the sad reality of being a student is being poor, which was a huge shock to my system after working full-time the last four years. In some bizarre twist of fate I found an ad on the internet for my job and, after going through four different interviews and a multitude of security/personality/medical checks, I was hired. And stoked.

Since then I've worked anywhere from 4am to 2am and unfortunately in the process come to remember my pet peeves when dealing with the public. Now this is the place to record them, instead of laying it on my mates who can't really understand. From ungrateful passengers who expect you to scrape and bow at their mere presence, to the ones who need to be spoken to in very small words before any sort of understanding can connect to their brains, it's impossible to deny customer service is definitely not a job for the faint-hearted. It's amazing how thick your skin becomes, and if it doesn't then it's not the job for you.

I'll jot some real experiences down soon but for now I'm a little ranted out about my history (someone my age should not have such an extensive working past...makes the CV look a little strange). Today I worked 5.45-10am then had uni so I'm understandably wiped. Thank God tomorrow is a day off, I'm pretty sure I've thrown my back slightly lifting unbelievably heavy bags.

Seriously...how much luggage do you need to take to Hamilton or Invercargill? They're not exactly places where it's going off.

Oh boy. It starts. :)