It's that time of year (and the month, grr)

School holidays. Oh how I loathe them. Kids running rampant around the terminal, stressed parents giving themselves hernias over seating arrangements, buggies and car seats and booster seats and bassinettes - all of which have to go in massive plastic bags - making any check-in agent break into a Zambesi induced sweat. Arghh.

Now to be fair to parents, I realise it must be a mission travelling with ankle biters. But if there are two of you, for God's sake you ARE capable of putting your baby necessities into the plastic bags. Do you think I have time to do it while I'm calculating the mountains of luggage you keep piling onto my belt and ensuring little Johnny is safely cornered into a window seat? Oh and it's real considerate of you to turn up 20 minutes before the flight's due to leave, giving me a whopping five minutes to get all this done. Thanks for that.

My rant tonight is probably compounded by a lethal dose of PMS (any poor service assistant asking me how my day is going has been given a mumble and narrowed eyes as a response) and my own stupid personal problems. There is either something seriously wrong with my phone or the few friends I have left are totally ignoring me. So obviously I committed some massive faux pas when I was home last week and am now paying the price for it. Whatever that was.

Fingers crossed it's Telecom stuffing up and not my friends retreating into the distance. Once again. Let's cue some violins, shall we?

Some good news, the in-house proposal went through with a whopping 76% majority so in a few weeks I'll be on a higher pay rate. Joy! God knows why I want to be a journalist because the media has totally manipulated it, saying we're ALL suffering and that the head honchos are being completely selfish. Um, hello, at least we got some notice...there are some people who turn up to work only to be told the company's gone under and there's no job left for them anymore. I know which scenario I'd prefer to be in...

Apparently we are also getting a new piece of uniform, namely a cardigan. I ask you - a cardigan?! I haven't worn one of those since primary school! And it's obviously incredibly elusive as no one has seen it, worn it or knows what it looks like. Yet we're expected to get one. Hmm. Be interesting to see what size I am, since my whole uniform is a complete jumble of sizes. Silk shirts are 14, skirts are 14, pants are 16, jacket is 16, merino top is a medium. WTF? Medium is, like, a 12. I haven't been a 12 in years. Go figure.

Alright I think I will go to bed. This PMS is making me far too emotional and I'm seriously tempted to start venturing into my personal life, which is NOT what this blog is for. Been there and done that with horrendous results. Leaving it at this for now - will update with some ground training reports. Woo.