I used to have the best co-workers

After eating some lunch to the sound of him upstairs shouting the house down, I went back down to the main bar. I met the other new fish. I hate when new people come in after me, it blurs the lines. I was the new fish before, now what am I? There’s a girl who’s going to college to be a costume maker, great! Then there’s an angry Spanish man who looks like Russell Crowe. And the last guy I thought was the new management because he was wearing casual clothes and walking around like he owns the place. Turns out he wasn’t meant to be in today but just passed by and it was busy so he got behind the bar to help out. Loser! Ahem. He made sure to tell everyone this, and to start and finish every sentence with “geezer.”

“Alright geezer, what you want? Pint? There you go geezer. I’m not even meant to be in today, it’s my day off. Yes geezer?”

I disliked him instantly. Big burly git who took up way too much of the quickly diminishing space behind the bar.

Last Saturday had been absolutely packed and it was just me and the chef behind the bar. Backs firmly to the wall is the only time I really get going in the place. There was a queue about 3 deep, we were already out of glasses and had no one to collect or wash any, and the chef wasn’t altogether too sure of what he was doing. What else can you do but pour like you’ve never poured before. No one cares if you smile at them or not, you don’t need to worry about pouring the perfect pint, and there’s no time to watch the minutes tick by. It’s the best.

Now all of a sudden there were 6 of us behind a bar that had a total of 11 functional taps. We were like a pack of worker ants, scrambling around the bar bumping into each other then turning around only to bump into someone else. Russell Crowe did not like this. Earlier, when it wasn’t even busy I was putting clean glasses on the shelf and he shouted at me to collect the dirty glasses and he would stack the clean ones. No need for that. Shortly after, the only card reader went missing and with customers looking on he was literally jumping up and down, running around the place, shouting “where is it, how can it just disappear?” Now everything was pissing him off. I was pouring a pint but there was too much head so I let it settle on the bar for a second. Russell Crowe was pulling a pint from the adjacent tap and barked at me “Never leave this here, NEVER!”

“Stop telling me what to do”

“You are too slow, I have to tell you”

“You need to calm down; you’re like a bull in a China shop”

“I do not need to calm down, don’t tell me to calm down”

“You’re embarrassing yourself, it’s kind of silly.”

We continued like this, pouring pints and arguing under our breaths so the customer’s right in front of us couldn’t hear. It was a bit like Ron Burgundy and Veronica Corningstone when the credits are rolling. You have bad hair, Russell.

There's nobody
I can rerate to
Feel rike a bird in a cage
It's kinda sihry
But not rearry
Because it's fihring my body with rage

Why are people who work in pubs here such dickheads, or just unbelievably depressing? All the shit jobs I worked in in the States and Oz the managers I was working with were kings among men, there was endless hilarious characters and plenty of super-hot waitresses. People like Arthur Wolf and Jimbo were absolute heroes. And in Oz we just had the soundest co-workers you could ask for. Here they just drain the life out of you. You win Russell Crowe, I’m just so over working here already.

I work rearry hard and try make great friens
But nobody ristens, no one understands
Seems like no one takes me serirousry

And so I'm ronery
A rittle ronery
Poor rittle me

Cut the crap

I got to work and had a sit down for a bit while the managers weren’t around. One of the new fish came over and says "you don’t look happy" then proceeded to tell me a story against my will.

"We were up drinking til 4 last night then I said I’d get up at 9 but I didn’t get up til 9.45 so I said I only have 15 minutes and I had t’ get milk for my breakfast. So I jumped in t’ showah and then I went t’ shop t’ get milk. Then I got back and realised I didn’t get bread! and cheese and ham! from t’ shop so I could only have my cereal. So I didn’t have a bowl but I found one with a candle in it. So I washed that one out and had my coco pops. But I had t’ eat them with a fork cause I had no spoooon. But that tasted like bath water so I didn’t eat them and had a fry instead. I’ll be getting fat now."

That was the shittest story told in the shittest way I’ve heard in quite a while. If you thought I didn’t look happy before I’m close to topping myself now. I didn’t say anything and he moved on eventually. Ah he’s alright though, he’s just from Leeds and has an accent kind of like some oul one from Coronation Street, not sure if he can’t pronounce his R’s or he chooses not to but it just makes him sound a bit special. I do a great impression, you gotta hear it.

I got moved up to the kitchen to help out for a few hours. I had to peel a load of carrots. A lot of them were mush, it was fairly rank, but about half of them were passable. I’d peel a load, throw the peels in the bin, then chop them up and throw them in a pot. Then peel a load more, throw the peels in the bin, chop them up and put them in the pot. After a while this got fairly boring and my concentration started drifting. Peel, peel, peel, throw in the bin. Chop, chop, chop, throw in pot. Chop, chop, chop, throw in pot. Chop, chop, chop, throw in the bin. Chop, chop, chop, throw in the bin. This must have continued for a while cause I looked into the bin and there was quite a few freshly chopped carrots in there.

Then the down and out managers came into the kitchen in their black raincoats. The way they walked into the big wide kitchen from a dark doorway in the corner made me think of two people walking on stage in a depressing Irish play. They informed us that the battery was dead on their car so they couldn’t drive to the shop to get whatever essential things we needed that they should have gotten ages ago. She couldn’t believe it.

"I just can’t believe it" she said more than enough times.
He saw me cutting carrots.
"Watch you don’t cut yourself there young Neil. (Pause) I wish you would cut me instead" (the audience would of laughed at this point.) "Someone up there hates us I tell you; someone up there bloody hates us."
"Yeah" said the chef, "the main man" (hahahaha.)
"If I see him I’ll fucking kill him" (hahaha)
"I just can’t believe it" (They walk off stage in their raincoats. Scene ends with the knife coming down on the ends of two sorry looking carrots.)

The impossible shift

Just to add to the stress I had to converse with my manager. I hadn’t been in work since Saturday and the roster didn’t go up until Sunday so I rang her then to find out my shifts. I’d previously told her that I couldn’t work until 6 on Friday cause I had all my projects in so when she told me my only shifts for the week were Friday at 6 and Saturday at 6 that was grand.

But then she rang me at half 11 and asked was I coming in for my shift at 11. I told her that she told me I wasn’t in until 6 tonight and I’d told her on my first day that I have college on Fridays so I could never work Friday during the day. I also reminded her that I had all my projects in this week and I’d written down on last week’s roster that I couldn’t work until 6 tonight. That’s why the next question she asked puzzled me: "oh right, do you think you’ll be able to make it in then?" But it does aid in understanding all the changes that were underway when I got in for my shift…at 6.

Apparently Sunday had been a nightmare for the kitchen staff. They have a huge kitchen with plenty of ovens and everything you need to run a restaurant. But they also have 5 microwaves and they prefer to use those instead. So when it gets busy you have two cooks standing around waiting for the microwaves to ping and orders tend to build up. They’d called down to the bar and told the managers to stop putting through orders for a while so they could catch up. They said ok. Then they continued to put through orders and rang the kitchen to complain about all the refunds they had to give cause people were leaving. The kitchen said remember a few minutes ago we told you we have a massive back log and to stop taking orders? They did but still took more orders so the kitchen staff went for a walk down to the bar and told the locals who rang the main man who decided to fire the managers. Yeah that’s a first for me too. Our most senior member of staff had been there since December and decided enough was enough and quit, and then the managers who had been told they needed to cut down hours and if possible, staff, decided to hire 4 new people.

No rush

Friday morning everyone had big bleary heads on them and the coffee was flowing. Still we had to put together a folder and learn two more stitches cause we missed a couple of classes. They were the back stitch (which I already knew and is a basic, handy enough stitch to know) and the draw stitch. My padding, basting and side stitches were all done and good to go. I had to pretty much do my felling stitch again but it wouldn’t take too long plus I had a little left on my raw edge stitch and about a third of my cross stitch. I also had to do two mark stitches which wouldn’t take long once I decided what picture I was going to draw for them, and I figured I’d just leave my button holes as they were.

In the panic I ended up stitching my cross stitch to my raw edge stitch without realising until the very last stitch so I had to unpick them and do it all again. A gray stress hair sprouted just above my eyebrow. Somehow I got it all finished and was just putting the last few pieces in place when at 4.58pm the teacher says not to rush as we don’t have to have it in after all. Well that’s good to know. I’d never worked so hard in college before but I’d also never been on a course where it seemingly didn’t matter if you had all the work in or not, and whether or not it was on time.

Further health and safety issues

One of the question sheets to be completed for Thursday was on health and safety in the workshop. I forgot to put in a section on lack of sleep. Tailors do fairly long hours, sometimes of the year are particularly busy and you’d be working long into the evenings and over the weekend. I’d been getting up for 8.30am all week and hadn’t been in bed before 1.30am since last Thursday. I’d never worked flat out like this before in college. Yeah I’d sit in the library all day but usually I'd be  reading the same pages over and over again cause I wasn’t concentrating the last few times. Then I’d get up and have a chat with someone and then go for a break. There was always a quiet place to have a nap.

Wednesday night I was up til 4.30am then got up again at 8.30am and worked flat out in college finishing my garment construction folder from 10 to 5. On the cycle home I was a bit delirious and the sun was right in my eye line, blinding me the whole way home. At one stage there was a pick-up truck in front of me and every time I looked up I’d get blinded for a second and squint to focus and the truck would be a lot closer than I remembered. I’d blink and it would be a car length away. Then on top of me again. I was dying to get home and the blinding sun and the shape-shifting truck were pissing me off so I slammed on the pedals to go around the outside of it. But out of nowhere the truck had shifted again. I cycled right into the back of it and big bertha bucked like a bronco. The back wheel went way up in the air and crashed back down, but we gave as good as we got. If that had of been my good bike it would have been a different story. I sheepishly cycled by the outside expecting some abuse or a point and laugh but the driver didn’t say anything. Best don’t mess with cyclists who ram trucks I suppose.

I got home a bit shaken up and put on "stay positive" by The Streets and wondered what could happen to me after another sleepless night. I put some wedges in the oven then had a shower and sat on my bed to air dry. I just rested my eyes for a second and woke up an hour later. The Streets were still playing. Shit fuck, the oven! I usually don’t nap for anything less than 3 hours so I don’t know how I woke up, especially with the recent sleep deprivation. But the wedges were perfect, I hadn’t been cooking them for long enough.

That night I had to put together my swatch books. In a surprise move for me I attempted to make a book as early as week 1 but I kind of messed it up from the start so just lashed it together messily enough. I copied a YouTube video on Japanese bookbinding and put in some Japanese lettering that I hope says "swatches."

With having made one earlier I knew exactly what I had to do but that didn’t prevent me from staying up all night to finish them. I didn’t have enough time to do the lettering again but they still turned out pretty damn good. I said at the time I’d never make another one again but I think it was just tiredness talking. They are enjoyable enough to make and do look great. You all know what you’ll be getting for Christmas…clothes, im a tailor not a book maker.

You mean I can sleep tonight?

Wednesday went alright, I got all my essays in but then the Chinese whispers kicked in. I’m in with group 1 on Wednesday cause group 2 have their class from 2 to 5 which is a waste of a day. They had everything handed in plus they didn’t miss a couple of tailoring classes like us so had a couple more stitches completed that we hadn’t started yet. But if they have everything in then surely we have to submit everything by the end of the week too? I got to see a couple of their folders. Shit they were good. I hadn’t even thought about my layout yet.

Someone in my class had said before we only need the tailoring swatch book in and we’re not doing a fashion one. But group 1 had both in so why shouldn’t we. I’d do them both anyway, economies of scale and all that. I asked my tailoring teacher what we had to have in by Friday and he said we don’t have to have anything in cause we missed two classes. He said he’d bring us in for two days over Easter to make up for it and we’d hand our folders in then. Then I was listening while he was talking to my garment construction teacher who would be away on a field trip Thursday. First they said we’d have to have everything we’d done to date plus the two swatch books. Then they said we don’t need anything in.

Thursday morning I told the class the news. One guy almost had tears in his eyes. "You mean I can sleep tonight? I can actually go to bed and sleep tonight? I could kiss you." But people wanted confirmation. We had a sub in but she didn’t know what was going on. I knew we had to have our garment construction folder in by the end of the day so I was flat out working on that but three times she came up to me to offer to show me how to do some seams we hadn’t done yet. I told her I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about learning anything new when I had to have a whole folder completed in a matter of hours, but she just wouldn’t cease. One time she leant over my stuff to chat with someone across the table. What a pest. The tailoring teacher came in and told us we would have to have everything we had done so far in on Friday. Don’t go to sleep just yet.

Luck of the Irish

I had to work Friday night and Saturday day: stupid job is getting in the way already and the managers are starting to grate on me. They’re pissed all the time and you have to listen to their shit stories that they already told you and the woman especially is really getting to me. That Friday I worked with her for the first time and I don’t know how many times she said "luck of the Irish." She’d be so hammered that someone would order a drink and by the time she turned her head and reached out to the pump I’d have already gotten a request for the same drink and start pouring out of it. This surprised her and she’d look at the customer and say "Oh! luck of the Irish" and he’d force a smile and she’d look at me and smile and I’d frown, and then I’d look at my customer and give him a look that said "please help me."

Another thing that kept happening was she’d try to pour two pints at the same time and forget about one or both of them and they’d be pouring everywhere and I’d notice and flick the tap up and she’d look at me with a look that said "you’ve done something wrong, I don’t know what it is but don’t let me catch you doing that again." I couldn’t get out of there soon enough.

You shouldn’t have

Today was my last day of clothes making thank God cause it was getting in the way. I’d get into class on Thursday and realise I’d left some stuff I need in my beautiful fashion bag. This kept happening plus I was getting bored of making crap clothes that my housemate was never going to wear. I had a lot more basics to learn before I could make proper clothes. There were only 3 of us left at this stage and I was the only one who made it to every class. The teacher was real nice and gave us some gifts at the end of the class. She really shouldn’t have. No really, she shouldn’t have.

Where does she get this stuff? The magazine is from November, the book is from the 50's and that horrible pattern looks like its from Anne and Barry. The bar was fresh and delicious though.

The next day I called into Savile Row and got some gifts that I actually do want. My friend gave me shit loads of lining so I can literally line everything I will ever own. Plus he gave me some swatch books that they aren’t using anymore so I can get started on making my own ones. And some material the same as my ink stained jacket so I can get started on a new one someday.

One gimp please

Today we started on the button hole. For the first couple of weeks I kept saying to myself "when am I going to get good?" cause things were just going really slow and my stitching wasn’t the best. But the button holes just clicked with me, I’m a natural. To continue practicing at home I was going to need some gimp.

To sew a buttonhole first you punch a circular hole in your layers of fabric and from here cut a straight line the length of the button hole. Then you sew around the raw edges with any old thread and finally sew over this with a thicker thread called gimp. We were told you could buy this in a shop called William Gee in Dalston. The shop is dark and grimy and has bars on the window. I’m not sure how I feel about going into a place called Gee that resembles a dungeon and asking for a gimp. "Bring out the gimp!"

We also worked on felling some lining. I like felling, it’s an easy stitch and lining is nice to work with. I had to leave college early to get to work though. I told them at the interview that I would be busy til 1 on Wednesday and 5 on Thursday and Friday and they were kind enough to not put me down until half 5 Friday. At the end of the evening they brought down a load of cans of fosters and had a little meeting to tell us that the main man wants to cut down a lot on our hours so I’ll probably be needing another job soon. 3 days in and my half-hearted dream of becoming a proper bar man is already in doubt.

thats like 9 hours

I’m finding the tech graph side of things a bit boring now but I hear it doesn’t get interesting until you see how it all works on actual clothes. At first I was surprised at the amount of tech graph involved but pleased cause I’m handy enough at it. Then I remembered why I didn’t pick it in school - it is awful boring.

The industrial sewing machines we use in college are so much faster than the domestic ones on my Monday night course and it can sew right through a garment before you have time to react and lift your foot off the pedal. Just when I got the hang of the domestic I feel just as useless on the industrial as I did on the domestic at the start. Today, while I was a ball of frustration on the sewing machine, I was told the single best thing I’ve ever been told. I don’t know why anyone hasn’t told me this before but you can only pull the thread on the machine when the wheel is turned a certain way. Or if you can’t find the exact point then just rock the wheel back and forth as you pull the thread back slowly. That’s a career saver right there.

Feeling so much better about myself I went outside and found that my saddle was stolen. That’s a pain in the balls, literally. It was only my shit giant hybrid though so it wasn’t a total disaster. I went in and asked the guys on the desk (we have security on the door, like in Columbine or something) to check the CCTV and one looked like he really wasn’t bothered checking the tape.
"What time did you leave it there" he asked.
"10am," it was 5 now.
"That’s like 9 hours, so it could take us a long time to look through it,"
Yeah whatever, its 7 hours so it should take you 7 hours to look through it.

The cycle home was tough and made worse when a bird decided to relieve himself on me. It must have been miles up cause it really whacked me, right on my lap. That was some workout though, cycling without a saddle for 4 miles with bird shit opening and closing in the folds of my shorts like a cyclops out of the corner of my eye, I’ll remember that if I’m ever training for a race. Just to make myself feel a bit worse, when I got home I put together a to-do list for the first time and it was massive. It just kept going and going – collect slacks, divide up my 12 dinners, make a swatch book, get on top of my stitching, get a saddle, talk to security, wash my shorts, go to work…oh shit I’m late.

11.59.58am

Old guy outside the window takes one last drag of his smoke and comes through the door. This is great, I’m in an old man’s pub.

I couldn’t find my black work slacks earlier so I’m working in a bar in tailor made (in Thailand in fairness) slacks and shirt. I later realised I left them in the bank 3 months ago so I’d have to call back in to get them sometime. The managers/landlords or whatever seem a lot different to yesterday. He’s standing up a lot straighter and not at an angle like he was before. Plus he’s speaking a lot clearer too, and his face isn’t so red. Something is different but I can put my finger on it. Surely…no it can’t be…he couldn’t have been absolutely pissed during my interview at 12.30 in the day yesterday?

That evening there was a (for the most part) lesbian hockey team in. They took up a good bit of the bar with their bags everywhere and were fairly boisterous. But they weren’t rude or insulting anyone. They were singing songs and all but not the type you’d expect to hear from a sports team. The one they sang the most went like this:

"If you are a laddy
And want to follow Daddy
Then London is the best place in the land
Core blimey!"

What the hell is that shit? They sound like they just walked off the set of Oliver. There was no slagging other teams or a mention of eating rats in council houses or anything. One ginger girl had "Mental Fresher" above the number 20 on her back, bit lame but it must have worked cause she was scoring the hottest one there. At one stage I was pouring a drink for some guy and 3 of the girls were up at the bar right in front of me comparing sports underwear. One of them pulled the top of her tracksuit bottoms down to show the others what she was talking about. Meanwhile I’m over-filling this guys pint and its pouring all over my £2 Primark fabric shoes link. Ladies please, I’m trying to concentrate here. Probably for the first time this century an old lad got up off his stool and moved to the other side of the bar for a closer look.

Sheperds Bush Market

I went out to Shepherds Bush Market after the interview to get some cloth for college. I wasn’t too impressed with the market stalls but I’d say the shops around the corner are better. After much silent deliberating I got 2 metres of some fairly crappy cloth that frays a lot at the ends. But the guy at the stall took my indecisiveness for a mean form of haggling and lowered his price so it wasn’t too bad

I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows I’m miserable now

I woke up to 3 more letters about my dole getting cancelled. If they didn’t spend so much money on letters they wouldn’t have to cut people off so heartlessly.

Luckily enough I had an interview lined up in the afternoon in a bar not too far away. I’m not a fan of dealing with the public hence I wasn’t over the moon about getting this job but alas I’ve worked in a bunch of bars and restaurants without ever actually becoming a proper bar man so this would be my chance to fix that. And you had to appreciate the timing. I was signing my name in a text message and I was given the following options.

Pretty appropriate I have to agree.

The over locker

For the first time in a while I made it in early to my dole meeting but they kept me waiting for 25 minutes. I just couldn’t bring myself to apply for those shit jobs and told the guy it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing. He didn’t say anything but probably reported it to someone. Sure why would he want to tell me about those boring details.

In class that day we continued working on our seams on the over locker. Every garment construction class we construct a bunch of different seams and then you neaten the edge with an over locker. If you’re wearing a t-shirt and turn up the bottom of it you should see a webbed stitch running along it. That’s what the over locker does. But it also has a blade that cuts through your cloth right along where it stitches. If it goes too fast on you, you could cut your cloth in half. It would still give you a nice finish but half a t-shirt isn’t much use to anyone. This can be fairly frustrating when you cut out your calico (a fairly cheap fabric we use), mess up sewing your seam a few times cause the sewing machine is an absolute bollox of a machine, cut more calico, sew your seam nicely this time, and then rip right through it all with the over locker. There are 4 over lockers and I thought I had been on the slowest but I was on the second slowest up til today. The slowest handles like a dream. No more grey hairs sprouting while I’m on the over locker from now on.

When I got home I had a letter saying my dole has been cancelled. No second chances over here. Like the second slowest over locker on my first attempt at a flat fell seam they sliced right through my benefits.

a big feckin massive art shop

Just off Brick Lane is a feckin massive art shop called Atlantis. It has to be the biggest in Europe or the world or something and is definitely worth a visit if you need anything art related. I had a few silly papier mache ideas I wanted to get started on so bought some PVA glue and art pads and paint and random shit like that.

I made myself a coin holder. I’ve always wanted a cool coin holder since seeing the drivers on Dublin bus years ago with their shiny coin dispensers. Mine isn’t so cool and it falls over if you over-fill it.

I also made a little pen holder. It falls over a lot if you put too much stuff in the side compartment.

Then I made this trendy chalk pastel holder

Looks a big dodge but its savage

 They have paintbrushes

And colours

And pastels

And wood

Pencils

Card

Metal

Pads



Shadwell and Brick Lane fabric shops

There’s a mini chain of fabric shops with one in Walthamstow and one in Shadwell and a few others somewhere. I’ve gotten over the shock of £1 a metre fabric so it wasn’t a surprise that Shadwell had more of the same. I still don’t know the difference between one type of cloth and the other and what is good and what’s cheap so I’m holding off buying too much for the minute. Brick Lane also has a few shops with the same story. Some of them weren't open on Sunday when I went around to take pics

The top

Today I finished a top for my housemate to go with the lovely skirt she wears all the time with such pride. Once again I only had time for the important things like using whatever cloth I had left over from the skirt no matter if its half the size of the paper pattern or not, and getting it done as fast as possible. I think she’s ready to hit up Walmart now

Another poxy dole meeting

at 11.20 on a Saturday! I let it slip that I was going to college and had to change my job goals from finance work to bar work, kitchen work and…oh yeah: tailoring. Apart from all the lads down there loving the odd power trip, they also love nothing more than to assume they know everything about every industry. When I was first there we were looking through finance jobs and every one I picked the guy would be like "no, see the thing about this job is, you’re not qualified enough, you need to do such and such exams"
And I’d be like "actually the CEO of this company has a geography degree."

When I told the guy I wanted to do tailoring he said "no, you won’t be able to find work here in that, it’s all been moved to India"
"No I don’t think so, you mean to say every tailoring job in Britain has been moved abroad?"
"Yes, you can’t get that sort of work here anymore"
"What about Savile Row?"
"What, so you want to be a machinist? You want me to put down machinist?"
"No I want to be a hand tailor, like everyone else there"
"Eh" Translation: I don’t have a breeze what I’m shiteing on about

He gave me details for two ‘kitchen’ jobs that I was never going to apply for cause they were absolute bullshit, and I headed off to college.

My time to shine

Today we learnt the cross stitch, side stitch and raw edge fell stitch. I cannot for the life of me get comfortable while I’m hand stitching though. The desks are a good height to work on while standing up but you get tired standing up and I prefer to have the cloth on my lap so I sit down. But the chairs are the swively office ones and they make you look like a child sitting at the dinner table so I sit on the table with my feet on the chair. This works well but strains the back after a while. And when the sun goes down you need better light so I sit on the sewing machine desk with my feet on the chair and the little light above my cloth. After a while this starts to annoy me too and I go back to standing up and go through all the motions again. It’s worse at home, following the sun around the house. Some sort of ergonomic chair is definitely something for the future.

I did have one advantage over some people though. My tailor friend had shown me how to do the cross stitch before and I got plenty of practice with it when I stitched a pattern onto a red top to make a Christmas jumper for my Spanish friend Javier. I have a few in the range for next Christmas.

The less is more Snowman

The Loopy Snowman

Angry Snowman

The Hitler Snowman

The East End Snowman

Later that night I was in my friend’s house and I read through her Orla Kiely book "Pattern." You couldn’t pull me away from it. What an inspirational book, Orla is some woman. What is happening to me?