NORMAL LIFE: They're Letting Me In!

Only last night, I was sitting at my PC at home, tapping in the answers for my Australian Working Holiday Visa when, suddenly, a remix of Kylie's Light Years/Turn It Into Love emanated from the desktop speakers. Tapping my feet to the music of perhaps one of the most famous Antipodeans, I tapped in my credit card details for the whopping cost of the visa, nominating my work email address as my preferred method of contact.

And, already, in the office this morning, I have received confirmation that my Visa Application has been accepted! Oh, my god, I can't concentrate anymore! Just like Austin Powers before me, I seem to have lost my mojo (at work), my head filled with scenes of the Sydney Opera House, the towering skyscrapers of downtown Sydney, surfer dudes, kangaroos, koala bears. I'm sure life there isn't that different, but what an experience it will be, eh?!

NORMAL LIFE: Moving On And On And On?!

It's kind of relieving in a way, how the brain starts to process and rationalise things once a decision has been made. If only we were so intelligent that we could rationalise things beforehand. Perhaps man wouldn't be so prone to the mistakes it has made during its time here on earth. What am I rabbiting on about now, eh?

Well, after the weekend's decision to take a year out and travel to Australia (planned for end of August next year), my brain has been asking all the usual questions: why do I really want to do this? How will I deal with the loneliness, when Bree isn't there to drink tea with in the evenings? Will I be able to lipread the Australians, what with their accents? Despite these initial doubts, I am biting the bullet because some things have happened recently that made me realise that life really is for living. Things have happened that made me realise that I can be unhappy in the workplace in my forties and fifties, but right now, I want to experience life.

When I think about my experiences of working in three Finnish workplaces, one thing that makes English speakers stand out is our ability to socialise and network. Of course, there are some Finns who have excelled far better than I have in this area, but while Finns may be more civilised (they are not exactly bombing series' of countries in succession, are they?), their inability to socialise often drives me beserk. Fortunately, I have some of the bestest friends I could ask for in Finland, but the weirdos certainly outnumber those I would regard to be 'normal'.

In my office, I work with five women. A further two women working in the States comprise part of my team. As the only man, I feared that I would repeat the mistakes I experienced in my previous workplace, where I worked with more than twenty women. This time around, however, it has been a refreshing change, but my own despondency has caused me to ponder on some of the more negative aspects of my colleagues. For example, there's a certain project, which doesn't seem to be moving forward. I advised one of my colleagues to look into using Microsoft Access to address the issue. It infuriates me that, two months later, she is bring the same issue to our weekly meetings simply due to a lack of willingness to take the initiative.

Then, there is the oldest one, in her mid-fifties who came down on me like a ton of bricks after I sent a well-received bulletin to the sales field. While I acknowledged one or two fair points, her insistence that a better template could have been used infuriated me because, hello, we don't have any other templates! Until Marketing Communications provide a global template, I can't simply halt my communication to the field. She argued that that is the way we have always done things to which I retorted: "The old ways are not always the right ways!"

And it gets worse. But for once, I am in support of the American side of the team. At my firm, we do our appraisals online. You rate your own performance and then nominate twenty of your closest colleagues to do the same. Needless to say, the Finns gave very modest ratings and not so favourable feedback whereas the Americans gave quite favourable feedback. Among the Finnish feedback were two crucial things which I found quite amusing.

The first comment I received was that I "should learnt to adapt to the Finnish working environmnet". Okay, let's start with this one. First of all, we work for an American company. Furthermore, our process are American by nature, and our business language is English. It's a shame I can't respond to the people who posted this comment so I could tell them to roll up their feedback and shove it up their arse!

The second comment suggested that I "should refrain from using my British sense of humour in the office". Again, I say shove it up your arse! The Finns rarely say good morning to eachother so forgive me for wanting to spread a little cheer in the office! When I read that comment, however, a surge of pride rocketed around my very being for, nearly six years after leaving England, people still perceived me as being British, something I am proud of!

All this dragging of my colleague's feet has come at a crucial time. You see, our boss left a month ago, the second one to depart within a year. I have to point our, however, that our boss' departure is no reason for the procrastinating and the whinging which, unsurprisingly, is perceive as overt laziness by other functions in the organisation. When a new boss arrives comes onboard, the challenges will still exist and, as the workers, it's up to us to make things better. But the whinging isn't limited to the Finnish team. Apparently, one of my colleagues in the US is feeling 'ignored' by the boss, which I find amusing. I've never really sought the acknowledgement of my bosses. To be honest, the less I see them the better! Such is my respect of authority, you know!

Is my despondency causes by the fact that I am constantly surrounded by women? Or is it because I am focusing too much on the negative side? Whatever the case, 2008 is going to be fantastic year for me! A friend of mine said to me yesterday that, in all the time he had known me (about seven years), there never had seemed like a better time to go. But then another - albeit unimportant - question arises: will the name of my blog change to something like "Moving on and on and on"?

NORMAL LIFE: Decisions, Decisions, Decisions!

The decision I made last weekend will sadden some of my friends. At the same time, the decision has filled me with renewed excitement combined with an element of fear. After a couple of bad weeks at work, despondency has set in. Not known for procrastinating, I decided to grab the bull by the horns and, in doing so, was one step closer to rectifying what has surely been My Only Regret.

Yep, I have decided to quit my job, take one year out and visit Australia. Under the terms of the Working Holiday Visa, you can live in Australia for twelve months, but may not work for any one employer for more than six months. Sounds good to me; I can take some savings with me to supplement my income, Bree will come and visit as well as a host of friends and family.

The way I am feeling today, this is going to happen. Anything can change, of course, but I plan to apply for my visa soon so that if 2007's quota has been depleted, I can reapply in 2008. Exciting times ahead!

NORMAL LIFE: Mood Enhancing Image

There's no doubt about it, but the weather in Helsinki this week has been absolutely shit. Very English weather, one might say, with torrential rain and occasional gusts of storm-force winds. But a picture sent by a dear friend of mine recently and stored in my PC resurfaced today as I was searching for some files. Isn't it beautiful?

HUMOUR #10: Some Funnies

I am having perhaps the worst week since I started working at the firm more than a year ago, and these funnies went a long way towards brightening my mood. The two philosophical photos were taken by myself from the toilet of a restaurant in London! How very true their claims are:-

HUMOUR #9: The Gay Flight Attentdant

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks.

As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and announced: "Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he will be landing the big scary plane shortly so, lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super."

On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. "Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big, brute engines, but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground."

She calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one." To which the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat: "Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray-up, Bitch."

NORMAL LIFE: The Expelled

There’s a madman in our midst, but it’s not the type that is on the run, dodging from dark recess to another to pounce on his latest victim. Oh, no, this madman is very visible and doesn’t have a clue, or perhaps he just doesn’t care, about how actions affect others.

The location: our local swimming pool and the same thing happens every Sunday. Before and after our swim, we have a sauna, that great Finnish tradition I love. Well, I love it when I can withstand the heat, which is pretty much all the time. Except when the madman is in it.

The madman is a short guy, with patchy skin all over their body and an ignorant air about him. He must be about fifty years of age and practically lives at the pools for every time we go there, no matter what time of the day, he seems to be there too.

In the sauna, he literally takes possession of the pail of water, even if the pail is located in front of another person, and proceeds to steam the coals with endless ladlefuls of water. And when we does this, everyone leaves the sauna except himself which, by anyone’s book is rather selfish. Bree has even taken it upon himself to give the guy a piece of his mind in the past, but to no avail.

Today, it came to a head for, after our swim, we went to the reception together and made a formal complaint. The woman working there shook her head and told us that the guy has been doing this at many pools in Helsinki, but today he would be issued with a notice forbidding him entry in future. Apparently, the guy has mental problems.

My question is: if the guy doesn’t even remember earlier warnings and expulsions from other swimming pools, how will he remember the fact that he was being banned form this particular pool? I have a funny feeling that this isn’t over.

NORMAL LIFE: American Frustrations

I'm not having a good week as far as Americans are concerned. It all started with the refusal to honour some training in my Training Plan, which was signed earlier this year by my boss. I wanted to attend a Product Management training course in London, since getting English training in Helsinki is a bit problematic. In response to my request, my American boss (her Finnish subordinate - my line manager - left a couple of weeks ago) responded: this isn't a good use of resources at this moment in time! Truth be told, it never is!

In the meantime, in fact yesterday, I attended an in-house training session which, to my initial delight was being hosted by native English speakers. They may have been American and their drawls may have irritated the hell out of me, but it was nice to learn something for a change. Listening to the woman talk about bro-sures ('brochures' to those of us who can speak English properly) and the guy presenting powerpoint slides full of grammatical errors, I was left wondering how stupid are these people? To do something right, you must ensure, not insure! Americans should be given a dictionary at birth (preferably an 'Oxford' one), and it should be chained to them before they butcher the English language any further with their ignorance.

Getting back to the earlier refusal of my training, I sent an email to Human Resources asking them what I should do? I went so far as to explain that two American colleagues were flying all the way from the States to this training in the UK (isn't the US so great that, surely, they have some Product Management training on their own continent?) and that getting English professional training in Finland was quite difficult. My HR contact simply forwarded the email to the American boss which, as you can imagine, irritated her. My boss simply stated that there are better ways to handle situations like this, suggesting that 'in future, you phone your manager and have a discussion rather than reaching out to HR to find a workaround'. She, as my manager, had refused so what was left to be discussed? Or was she actually expecting me to beg?

Going back to the in-house training I had yesterday, I had lunch with the American duo; it's always nice to chat in a common language although, in all reality, I have nothing in common with them. American women smile too much and their fake politness is so see-through; American men never seem to splash out on a cotton shirt and insist on travelling across the Atlantic clad in cheap polyester that say: "Hey, look at me, I'm a pikey!"

During the lunch, I did most of the talking. Such was my joy at being able to revel in the English language. As I spoke, I watched the guy - already on the large side - tuck into three different meals (no one had told him you can only take one!), followed by a sweet bun and a bottle of diet coke. Meanwhile, the woman, petit in comparison, cut her potatoes up with her fork and licked the sauce off her knife. She had impressed me with her training skills, but her table manners left alot to be desired. How about throwing in a book about etiquette in with each newborn American?

NORMAL LIFE: Imperial Victory Over Brussels

At least, the European Commission has come to it's senses. The British public spoke and, for once, they listened. Could this be the start of the end of the European Union's obsession with harmonising everything?

Described as an 'ancient imperial system' (sounds quite cultural that does!), this means that Britain will be able to continue using pounds, miles and pints as units of measure. And why not? There's nothing more sophisticated - and self-differentiating - than stumping a fellow European by telling then that you are 5feet tall and then they look down at your feet and wonder if they learnt any English at all!

If anything, it is a posthumous victory for grocer, Steve Thorburn, the so-called 'Metric Martyr' who had his scales confiscated when he refused to sell his produce in grams and kilos. His defiance actually earnt him a criminal conviction. He later died of an unexpected heart attack, but his campaign has certainly succeeded.

We should learn from this for the European Commission's own Industry Commissioner admitted that 'the EU had been making itself unpopular on an issue that really didn't matter'. Hear hear! This has bought to an end more than 40 years of gridlock on this issue, separating Brits and their beloved antiquated measurement system from their continental neighbours.

If our European neighbours want to drink a pint with two centimetres of liquid missing from the top, let them! If they want everything to be over simplified and divisible into units of 100, let them, but we will still wow them with our stones, pounds, ounces, inches, yards, pints and miles for centuries to come!

Related article here

HUMOUR #8: Doing It Better

Formula One is a sport much-loved by the Finns so this clip featuring old-timer, Mika Hakkinen, was amusing! I doubt Alonso nor Hamilton will claim they do the old Finnish pastime better!

NORMAL LIFE: Half Of My Wisdom

Bloody, bollocky, buggery, bejasus, bastard dentists! Actually, it wasn't all that bad. I had two of my wisdom teeth removed yesterday; they has impacted e.g. growing on their side and pushing towards the rest of my teeth, especially on the lower set.

It was quite a pleasant experience really, although it reminded me just how much things have changed. Or, more likely, just how much things are done different in Finland. The fact that it was a private hospital may have helped too, but this is what happened.

I laid down in the chair, they injected me with local anaesthetic, they covered up my face (covering my eyes) and then proceeded with their mutilation. To be honest, in my numbness, I was surprised that it was all over when it was. Phew!

When the dentist stitched me, he handed me the bill; a whopping €384. A very unexpected thing was that he gave me his mobile phone number in case I had problems. For a moment, I thought he was hitting on me, but how could he possibly have been 'in the mood' after seeing my teeth covered in blood? Apparently, the giving of a mobile number is the way it's done here. Phew!

In hindsight, I was wondering: if I refuse the mobile phone number service, can I get a discount?!

NORMAL LIFE: How Planning To Make A Plan Backfired

Our boss at the firm resigned just after the summer holidays. Whilst we were disappointed by the news, we were not overly surprised. He had shown the usual signs of waning enthusiasm; less hours on the job, reactive rather than proactive decision-making, visibly reduced motivation to bring about the changes he was employed to implement. Most disappointing was that he had only stayed in the firm for a mere seven months, which included one month's summer holiday. On hearing the news of his new, much better-sounding opportunity, I shook his hand and congratulated him; I asked no questions for I just wasn't interested.

There is history. When my boss started working in January, it wasn't until March that we engaged in regular dialogue. In all honestly, he was surplus to my own requirements. My former bos had left already the previous May (see here), it had taken seven months to replace him and, in that time, I had learnt to be independent, wading my own way through the chaos of the firm. My boss requested a meeting and in my honesty, I told him my real thoughts which went somewhere along the lines of "I am confused by your purpose here". He was a bit stunned, and I dread to think that this may have started the process that would eventually cause him to move on.

Fear not for when we went to lunch last Friday, his last day, he told of his reasons to leave. Yes, he had been offered an opportunity that he simply could not refuse (alright, give it a rest!), but one thing he mentioned made me smile. The firm's slowness was a big turn off for him and he cited something one of the engineers had said during a meeting after he had asked how long it would take to bring a certain project to fruition. Apparently, any engineer respond: "We have a plan to make a plan!" Used to working in a much more dynamic industry, our boss highlight one of the firms key weaknesses: inefficiency.

Later, it emerged that the boss liked 'free things'. Working in Marketing, he was used to free tickets to the theatre and football games, travelling all over the world and dining in fine restaurants. If only he had told of this earlier, he wouldn't have even been recruited for an American firm is certainly a tightfisted one with cost-savings high on the agenda. I actually enjoy working for the firm - it's challenging on an almost basis and this has more value for me than free tickets and fine dining. I actually felt sorry for the departing boss because, potentially, he had quit before even settling in, getting down to the work and seeing the fruits of his labour. Oh, well!

HUMOUR #7: NMKY aka YMCA

Click here to be taken to a YouTube clip, but don't forget to come back!

Sound familiar?

NORMAL LIFE: A Quickie In Tampere

Saturday morning comes, I skip breakfast and catch the 11:06 Intercity train to Tampere to vist some friends in the city that was my home for nearly two years. As the train shuttled at speed across the country, I pulled down the blind to shield my eyes from the bright rays of the day and read more of Seven Brothers, written by esteemed (but now very much dead) author, Aleksis Kivi; the book itself seems to be about seven young brothers who seem to have nothing better to do than to wander the land and cause trouble. How little has changed in the youth since the book's initial publication way back in 1870, I thought to myself.

In between the reading of pages here and there, I dozed; Finnish trains have a a very calming effect on me. In contrast, the trains in the UK are so rickety that you can tell almost instantly that the tracks don't actually 'fit' that well as it sounds like the train itself is wobbling against the metal of the track.

The eye of a woman's eye met mine - she was sitting opposite me and was somewhat drowsy herself. We smiled at one another, somehow confirming the other one's visible drowsiness. We started to chat; she was soft-spoken and well-dressed, in her early 30s. With ever-perfect English, we spoke about life in Finland and the Finnish language. We laughed, and time flew to mutual delight, our drowsiness long forgotten. When we arrived in Tampere just before 1pm, we parted somewhat awkwardly; I sensed that she 'liked' me, but being the way I am, nothing further was likely to develop and I stopped myself from giving her my number.

I made my way to the Savolainen's by bus. Blessed by two, pretty young girls, Mama Savolainen and myself sat at the kitchen table, tucking into chicken, potatoes and peas! Yummy! It wasn't until the cousin of the elder daughter's cousin arrived that I got a taste of what girly squealing was really like! By god, if there had been a pane of glass standing in the hallway, their squeals of delight may well have shattered it! It was cute though!

A few hours later, having caught up, Mama Savolainen gave me a lift into town for my next engagememnt. Inside Alko, in the basement of Stockmanns, I met up with Mr. Lapland; I call him Mr. Lapland because he is from the north originally and, in my opinion, he's quite handsome. But I'm spoken for, I remind myself! We bought some wine and went to his place - we chatted about the summer, our families and other general matters before downing a sumptuous dinner of Reindeer Soup followed by Elf Filet with garlic potatoes and vegetables. Ihana! Various schnapps and brandies were presented to me as we played Jenga, which is a hilarious undertaking whilst under the influence.

Later, we watch some of Mr. Lapland's favourite sketches from the BBC comedy, Little Britain. It makes me proud when Finn after Finn declares that British comedy is so funny. Sometimes, I reply: Me too! Geddit?! I'm a bit funny too! We played some of the scenes from Madonna's Confessions Tour, which really got us in the mood to party. And so we took a cab into town, to Pink, a relatively new gay bar right in the centre of town. We drank in the near-empty bar of some 20-or-so patrons, before I realised that action needed to taken: on the dancefloor, we played, praising the lights on the ceiling as thought they were indeed the lights of heaven.

Such was our intoxication than, at one point I point to Mr Lapland's visibly broad chest and sqealed: 'You got bigger boobs than that lesbian'. His response was to grab his chest, just like a woman would hide her boobs if her bra faulted for some reason, and faking a stomp off the dancefloor. It was hilarious! Madonna's Hung Up played followed by Boogie 2nite, by BootyLuv! Fantastic! So all was not lost. We left at 3pm, heading staight to bed.

During the night, I walked in my sleep and, ever restless as I am in unfamiliar places, I woke up with a start at 8am. I couldn't get back to sleep again and, since Mr. Lapland was awake, we had a long breakfast. Tiredess quickly set in and we read the papers (well, I looked at the pictures) in bed, listening to the pattering of rain outside; the rain went totally against my plans to go on a long walk with Blue that day. It wasn't long before Mr. Lapland offered a ride to Blue's and we were listening to Madonna's re-worked Lucky Star as we made our way through the town. As I bade goodbye to one friend, I flung my arms around another, the broad-smiled, wonderful Blue.

We rushed over to a food store to get some pizzas; the International Athletics in Osaka was on TV and Finnish hopeful, Tero Pitkämäki, was in the Javelin finals. As the pizzas heated up in the oven, the dramatic, nailbiting Javelin finals got underway. Having done well throughout the summer season (although he did happen to stab a French fellow javeller with his javellin, which wasn't his fault), Tero Pitkämäki proceeded to take Gold with an impressive throw of 90.33 metres. I bet that French guy is well and truly fucked off now!

With all the athletic excitement calming down, Blue proceeded to tell me about her ever-turbulent lovelife. Apparently, she has met a guy who happens to be a Magician and, apparently, he is also magic in bed! I cannot repeat the things she told me, and I'm sure she's eternally grateful for my discretion. After the pizza, some Joulu tortti (Christmas tarts, which Blue had made because she was in a Christmas mood - don't ask!), and ice cream, tiredness overcame me.

I made my way back into town by bus, dozing off on the way. When I arrived in town, I made my way towards the station and boarded the train that would take me back home. Shortly before falling asleep for most of the two hour journey, I recalled all the travelling I had done over the last two months: a week-long 5,000km road trip to Norway, four days in 34C Rome and ten days in the UK with visits to London, Cambridge, Liverpool and Manchester. I was, in fact, exhausted and I was already looking forward to next weekend. Just imagine: a weekend of nothingness awaited me! Ihana!

NORMAL LIFE: Kids Abroad, Piss & Dumb Damon

I start the month with a whinge about the Finns. My engineer is taking a baby of eight months to Thailand. Is this wise, I ask myself, before remind myself that it's none of my business. But still! What if something happened out there? I wouldn't even take a baby under two to Spain. Sometimes the Finns are too damn liberal or, in this case, just plain stupid. This was on Thursday.

Last night, I went to see the International Firework Championships in Töölönöhati (Töölö Bay). Although I should be used to it by now, I was shocked by the number of people peeing everywhere they could, making very little attempt to even disguise their inappropriate outdoor activity. Meanwhile, broken bottles were strewn all over the city while smokers revelled in their thousands. Even government buildings were not immune, from which trails of urine seeped from the Parliament building while bottles floated in the water of the monument of former president, Urho Kekkonen.

This isn't new behaviour, I remided myself. Rather, it is countryside behaviour. Drinking outside is illegal yet where were the police on this particular evening? Too scared to get out of their cars probably. I find it laughable that people think it is permissable to come to the city and seemingly pee in excitement over a fireworks display. Something is telling me 'lighten up'!

All this happened after seeing The Bourne Ultimatum, Matt Damon's new movie. "What a load of old shit", Catherine's Tate's character Gran would cry out. The movie is based on a civilian who volunteers to have his memory erased and a new character 'installed' into his brain with a killer instinct aimed at killing those who were threats to national security. But given the way he gets up after each car crash or clash with villains before dashing of the next international desination, I am convinced he must be a cyborg, perhaps the Terminator's cousin of something.

What I want to know is: where does he get the money from? Damon recently publicly derided the most recent James Bond movie, Casino Royal. After watching Damon's latest movie, however, I am forced to conclude that neither character is believable, entertaining nor is their existence on the big - or little - screen worthy. It's hard any surprise that the kids are as stupid as they are when they spend countless hours watching movies like these. How dumb does Hollywood think people are? Very, so it seems!