The ugly truth about working in retail - My story

I haven't been posting here a lot these past few months, and the reason was that I got myself a full time job in retail. And that not only left me with no time, but also exhausted me physically, and sometimes even mentally.

I can't say too much about what I did or where I worked (you see, now they even include posting on social media in your contract), but I can tell you how fucked up the way this industry works is.

The Job

Around October time I decided it was time to come back to England. The first week of my return my partner told me he found out about a temp job offered at his workplace. I didn't think much of it, and attended an interview he had arranged for me. I got the job on the spot. My supervisor told me I was clearly overqualified for the position.
Originally, my job was quite straightforward and simple, very repetitive low level position. With time, and due to my abilities, the tasks I had to complete multiplied greatly, to the point of me training and assisting colleagues with their own jobs.
I started working there amidst a big shift in the company and the implementation of new systems and rules around its operation, and thus, a transitional period that found employees who had been there long before me struggling.
Me coming with fresh eyes and unaware of the past, along with my qualifications, meant I could adapt very quickly, which led to my job role entailing way more than I had been told at first, without an increase in my salary.

And it wasn't just me. A lot of people were required to do a lot more than they were paid for, but I will talk about that in a second.

The People

When I first started, everyone in my team was really sweet and kind to me. They were all so helpful and willing to respond to any of my queries. A few of my colleagues warned me against certain people on the first day though, and that left a very sour taste in my mouth.
With time I discovered a lot of the sweetness and kindness were an act. People wanted to make a good first impression. But as time passed I found myself involved in petty drama that I couldn't even fathom. Certain people didn't like my mediterranean temperament, or the music I listen to, or criticised the way I did my job (even though my superiors praised me constantly), or even what and how much I had for lunch.
A few of my colleagues even complained about me to my supervisor. Even colleagues I thought I was 'work-friends' with. My voice was too loud, I didn't remain quiet when someone talked down on me, and sometimes I used the word 'fuck.' And even though some of my colleagues could be loud as well, or sweared too, maybe it was the fact that I was not intimidated by anyone, ever, that irked them the most.
Thankfully, there were also kind and reasonable people working with me, and it was thanks to them, I had an overall positive experience.

The Company

From what I had heard, the company used to be a very positive environment to work at, and took good care of its staff. However, after it was acquired by a larger corporation, and then, after a new CEO was appointed, things started going downhill.
Mass redundancies, a plethora of job role changes, zero employee consideration, less worker rights, new rules, more rules, more technicalities, and a lot less logic or cohesion.
One of the most frustrating things was that the vast majority of higher ups had absolutely no clue of how the business operated. They supposedly knew how to manage us all (and shout commands and demands), but they did not know what our jobs entailed, or how, practically, things got done.
Therefore, us 'lower level' staff had to constantly explain certain processes and even demonstrate, for them to be content and leave us alone.
Moreover, due to all the redundancies, current staff had to take on the roles of the people made redundant, without a salary increase or a bonus, which meant you got paid the same, but had to do a lot more. And that seemed to be a pattern within the company.
I am not going to go into how disorganised and unreasonable the way the company operates was, as I'm sure that is a common denominator in many companies.

The Threat

One day, my supervisor told me to go to my manager's office. There, there was my manager and another person. They told me there was this great opportunity for me, the Head of Operations had handpicked me and created a position just for me. It would be great for me, provide me with experience and knowledge in so many other things, and help me to evolve professionally.
I was very flattered, but also felt something was a bit off. My manager was really pushing for me to take this job. I was given less than 24 hours to give a response, but then had no one approach me to request my response.
I wrote down a list of questions in regards to the position, and two days later my manager arranged for a meeting for us to discuss the details. Bottom line was that this position, which was newly created (and I would be the first person to ever have it if I accepted), entailed a lot more roles and tasks than the position I was currently holding, yet the salary was the same. They also wanted to keep my contract and my job role the same, and if after my temp contract expired they wanted to offer me a permanent position, only then the job role would change on the contract, but the salary would remain the same. On top of that they would expect me to work on weekends, which was something I didn't have to do before.
As you may expect, I very kindly declined the position. There was no reason for me to take a job with more responsibilities and change departments for such little money. Two days after I declined the position my manager wanted to talk to me. We had a private conversation and I was basically told that if I didn't accept this new position, my contract would not be renewed as we had agreed upon. My contract was supposed to be extended for 3 more months. I very calmly explained that that was blackmail and I would not succumb to threats. Both my supervisor and my manager had told me for months that my contract would be extended. HR was aware of that fact as well. Funny thing was, most of our HR staff had been made redundant, and the HR person who had been in charge of my case did not work for the company anymore.
So, even though I explicitly told my manager if my contract wasn't renewed I would take action and seek justice, I knew that would be extremely hard to do, as it would be my word against a whole company.


...To be continued...

Colleague's infuriating entitlement

When people feel uncomfortable they usually turn into spoiled children. Or even worse, aggressive adults.

It takes someone who self-reflects and constantly works on themselves to face and move past their discomfort.

But that someone is not my colleague.

Yesterday, there was a conversation at work about a colleague who goes hunting. The conversation was instigated by an older lady (who loves drama). She knew I would respond, not only because I am a vegetarian, but also, because I love animals.

And I did respond, jokingly. I made comical exaggerated loud declarations against hunting, laughing. I mentioned the cognitive dissonance that is loving animals, but also not only eating them, but hunting them. Indeed, I am against hunting, but I recognised work isn't the place to talk about it seriously.

At the time, I was laughing, my co-workers were laughing... But our team leader stepped in to say that talking about dietary preferences is taboo and we shouldn't talk about it. I explained that I was joking, and of course, I accept everyone's dietary preferences regardless of whether I agree with them or not.
I didn't make anything of it, and no one showed to be uncomfortable or offended.

Now, the colleague I was joking with (or so I thought) is a person that has confided in me, a person who I have good banter with, teasing each other; but he also makes inappropriate jokes, and more than often misogynistic, homophobic, and overall, politically incorrect remarks. During these 'jokes,' I have politely -or using humour- tried to show him he needs to stop. Meaning, we were on that level of familiarity.

Today, sometime after I arrived at work, my team leader had a meeting with all of us, asking us to respect each other's preferences, and not bully each other. Extremely surprised, I asked if he was referring to me and my colleague, and looked at my colleague and asked him 'You know we were joking yesterday, right?' My colleague looked away, and right then I knew something was wrong.

My team leader spoke to me in private to inform me my colleague filed a complaint, because he felt the previous day the volume of my voice was offensive.
Mind you, I am a mediterranean woman, and that means I speak loudly, especially when I'm joking. And all my colleagues know and have experienced that multiple times.

I was not only in shock, but I was also infuriated. My colleague, a 59 year old man, snitched me to our team leader, and didn't even try to speak with me or express his discomfort before talking to my superior. The betrayal. He pretended to not have any issue with me, and then, immediately after he left work, he texted the team leader to complain, and even threatened to contact our manager. The hypocrisy. I'm lucky the team leader is a reasonable person or else I would be in serious trouble.

The irony and unfairness of it all...
The colleague who makes politically incorrect 'jokes' was offended by the volume of my voice, when I'm the one of two people in that department who actually care about social issues and being mindful of others.

I have been told that my colleague has shouted at women at work, called them idiots e.t.c. Yet, he was offended by the 'volume' of my voice.

How privileged can you be, and how entitled, that you feel 'threatened' by a mere joke that makes you feel uncomfortable -even though no one's insulting you-, when you're constantly offending every marginalised social group without a second thought?

How immature can you be to create drama at your workplace, for what?

Another colleague mentioned that I may have spoken some truth, which made him feel uncomfortable, and so he felt he had to attack me in some way. By putting me in a position where he shows his power, by punishing me for challenging his core beliefs and possibly making him feel guilty for his actions.

As if it's anyone else's fault but his if he cannot live his life in harmony between his beliefs and his actions.
Isn't it nice to be able to pin all your mistakes on others, and deflect, turning your guilt into toxic behaviour that hurts others?

A co-worker I'm close with pointed out it was the fact that a female raised her voice at him (or so he thought) that infuriated him.

Who knows...

All I know is I'm keeping my distance and blocking being engulfed in this kind of negative energy.

2018

Άλλη μια χρονιά τελειώνει, ένα νέο ξεκίνημα αρχίζει.

Φέτος δε θα γράψω ολόκληρο κατεβατό για το χρόνο που έφυγε.

Το 2018 ήταν κάτι παραπάνω από υποφερτό. Ειδικά σε σχέση με το 2016 και το 2017.

Οπότε για το 2019 ελπίζω να είναι εξίσου υποφερτό, ή και λίγο καλύτερο.

Καλή χρονιά σε όλ@ς μας!

Corporate Uncomfortable

The company I work for is trying to revamp itself and so, they created a video with key-points of the company's future, goals and expectations.

All employees are required to watch the video along with a powerpoint presentation. Today was my turn to attend to the session.

At the end of it, we were separated in groups and told to share our thoughts. We were clearly stirred towards sharing our positive thoughts -even though it was supposed to be a feedback 'workshop.'

Most people were saying how they loved the video, how clear it was, how positive it was, blah blah blah.

All I could think of was that we watched a 20 minute video of three extremely well dressed white people, with high positions reading from a teleprompter. You could tell by the movement of their eyes. It was all rehearsed, it was all acted out. No true meaning behind their words, merely repeating words appearing in the monitor.

These words, however, aimed at 'brainwashing' us and used the power of suggestion to promote certain behaviours or thoughts. The words 'proud,' 'community' and 'inspiration' were repeated constantly.

What struck me as awkward was that a filthy rich white man was talking about community, being part of the local community, and a second later he was saying we have to reduce our discounts to increase profit.
I wanted to scream at the screen "You have no fucking clue what community is you entitled prick!"
It's like seeing a warlord preaching about peace.
Oxymoron doesn't even begin to describe it.

What struck me as unacceptable though, was that there were only white people on the video. Even when they were showing ads relevant to the company, not even once was a POC featured.

And thus, when they asked us for our opinion, I mentioned that there wasn't enough racial diversity on the video. The two middle aged white men who are higher-ups in our division and were part of our team started mumbling "What do you mean?" "Can you explain this?" and they looked terrified.
I told them "I mean there were only white people on the video, we need more diversity as a company."
And even though they shook their head, supposedly agreeing with me, when they time came for all teams to share bullet points of their opinions, mine was painfully ignored.

I also dared ask them about the 'inspiring the community' part of the pretentious speech on the video, and they referred to charity (a.k.a giving away money that will be a tax right off), but absolutely no interactive activities provided by our company for the local community.

Basically, they want to be an elitist 'club' for the rich, all the while pretending to care for the local community by doing the bare minimum to prove said 'care.'

And unfortunately, this is how most corporations operate.

Welcome to the real -capitalist- (dystopian) world...

The big 3.

Every year, just before or after my birthday, I write a post reflecting on the past, being mostly negative about the future and generally expressing my fear of time.

This year is no exception, especially since this is an important year; It's the year I turn 30.

-So what? someone may ask.

Well, the big 3 means I'm not only changing decade, but I'm entering the adult world.
Being in my 20s isn't going to be an excuse good enough to justify not getting my shit together. I'm not a teenager anymore, nor am I in my post teen years.
30 signifies the death of my inner child, and even though that sounds grim, I find it to be true.  The inner child needs protection, is codependent, and knows that they have a 'security blanket' at all times. The inner child is innocent, playful and carefree. And even though I could try to hold on to whatever innocence I have left, none of the rest can be part of adult me, if I want to survive.

And that is scary as fuck.
It's like bungee jumping, but not knowing if the rope will hold your weight or break. So, even though 'growing up' is something I know and recognise I have to do, I'm terrified.

That fear had been so intense it had paralysed me. Thankfully, I've done a lot of work on myself in the past two years, so I'm somewhat coping, but still, the fear is there.

The fact that me turning 30 coincides with returning to England, re-starting my life once again (with my partner this time), and getting a full time job irrelevant to any of my studies or interests, shows the next chapter has arrived.

Hopefully, as the pages turn, fear will dissolve and maybe a more positive emotion -followed by a more positive outcome- will come after it.

Wish me luck y'all, I'll definitely need it.

XoXo,
Lara  

Ένα 'πρεζάκι' που το λέγανε Αντώνη

Σήμερα είχα πάει στο κέντρο να πάρω κάτι δώρα από το Μοναστηράκι.
Όπως κατέβαινα την Ηφαίστου είδα αίματα.
Ξεκινούσαν από την αρχή της και έφταναν μέχρι και το τέλος της.
Ρωτάω μία κοπέλα έξω από ένα μαγαζί που έριχνε νερά και χλωρίνη τι έγινε.
-Ένα πρεζάκι πέρασε και του τρέχανε αίματα, μου είπε με αηδία.
Συνέχισα να περπατάω και μπήκα σε ένα μαγαζί να ψωνίσω κάτι. Ρώτησα την κοπέλα του μαγαζιού αν ήξερε κάτι για το 'πρεζάκι.'
-Όχι, δεν το είδα καν. Τώρα είδα τα αίματα που μου το είπες εσύ. Ξέρεις τι βλέπουμε εδώ πέρα κάθε μέρα; Είναι πολύ επικίνδυνα.

Καμία ανησυχία για το άτομο από το οποίο προήλθε το αίμα.

Συνεχίζω το περπάτημα και βλέπω έναν τύπο να κάθεται στα σκαλιά έξω από το σταθμό Μοναστηρακίου και ένα παιδί χωρίς μπλούζα που είχε δέσει την μπλούζα του στο πόδι του.
Ολόγυρά τους λίμνες αίματος.
Είδα και 2-3 αστυνομικούς να κάθονται λίγο πιο κει και να κοιτάνε.

-Είναι καλά; Θέλετε βοήθεια; τους είπα.
-Τον μαχαίρωσαν στο πόδι, μου λέει το παιδί που είχε τυλίξει την μπλούζα του γύρω από την πληγή και την πάταγε για να μη χαθεί άλλο αίμα.

Ήταν περίπου 1.30μμ.

-Έχετε καλέσει ασθενοφόρο; ρωτάω έναν αστυνομικό.
-Ναι, έρχεται, μου λέει ανέκφραστος.

Στην επόμενη μιάμιση ώρα, γιατί τόσο έκανε να έρθει το ασθενοφόρο, είχαμε πιάσει την κουβέντα με το 'πρεζάκι,' τον Αντώνη, και το παιδί που τον βοήθησε, που έτυχε να είναι νοσηλευτής στο ΚΑΤ, το Σίφη.

Ο Αντώνης Οικονομάκος είναι 37 χρονών, τοξικομανής. Τον μαχαίρωσε μία συμμορία Μαροκινών από ό,τι μας είπε όταν είχε πάει να πάρει τη δόση του. Πότε ακριβώς έγιναν όλα αυτά ή αν έγιναν έτσι όπως μας τα είπε δε γνωρίζουμε. Τη μία έλεγε ότι τον μαχαίρωσαν πριν πέντε μέρες, την άλλη πριν τρεις. Δεν ήθελε να μας πει περιοχή και λεπτομέρειες "γιατί ακούνε οι μπάτσοι."
Του πήρα ένα μπουκαλάκι νερό. Οι αστυνομικοί ούτε που τον είχαν ρωτήσει αν χρειάζεται κάτι.
-Πεινάω, πεινάω! φώναζε.

Κανείς.

Ο Σίφης συνέχιζε να πατάει την μπλούζα του στην πληγή.
-Πονάω! φώναζε ο Αντώνης.

Σε κάποια φάση μας είπε ότι έχει HIV.
-Ευτυχώς φόρεσα γάντια, είπε ο Σίφης.
Αλλά δε σταμάτησε ούτε δευτερόλεπτο να πατάει την πληγή.
Οι αστυνομικοί όταν το άκουσαν πήγαν κάποια βήματα πιο πέρα.
Του είπα ότι δεν έγινε και κάτι, πολύς κόσμος ζει με HIV.
Μάς είπε ότι υποφέρει πολύ που ζει με αυτήν την αρρώστια, ότι γενικά έχει περάσει πολύ δύσκολα, και δεν είναι η πρώτη φορά που του επιτίθενται. Μας έδειξε και τις ουλές στα πόδια του, όλες από μαχαιριές.

Τον ρώτησα αν έχει κάποιο συγγενή ή φίλο που μπορούμε να ειδοποιήσουμε, μου είπε πως είναι μόνος του και δεν έχει κανένα.

Παρότι ήταν ακόμη 'φτιαγμένος,' βρώμικος, και πονούσε, τα πράσινα μάτια του σου μιλούσαν. Σου έλεγαν ότι δε θέλει την εξαθλίωση. Ότι θέλει να ζήσει με αξιοπρέπεια.
Μέσα στον πόνο του έκανε και χιούμορ, και γενικά φαινόταν ότι είναι άνθρωπος με αντίληψη και σπιρτάδα, ασχέτως της εξάρτησής του.
Γιατί ο Αντώνης, εκτός από 'πρεζάκι' είναι και άνθρωπος. Άνθρωπος με προσωπικότητα και με μια ιστορία.

-Γιατί με κοιτάνε; είπε κάποιες φορές θυμωμένος.
-Άστους να κοιτάνε, του είπαμε με το Σίφη, και μετά αστειευτήκαμε για άλλες φορές που έχουν κοιτάξει εμάς.
Του είπα ότι τον κοιτούσαν επειδή έχει ωραία μάτια και μου λέει:
-Ξέρεις πόσο ωραίος είμαι άμα δεν έχω τα μούσια και τα μαλλιά και πλυθώ; Είμαι πολύ βρώμικος.
-Ε, ευκαιρία να κάνεις και τζαμπέ μπανάκι, του λέω.
Και πάλι γελούσαμε.

Οι περαστικοί τον έβλεπαν σα θέαμα. Κάποιοι κοιτούσαν με αποστροφή, κάποιοι με περιέργεια, αλλά κανείς δε ρώτησε ούτε μία φορά "Είναι καλά;"

-Πεινάω! ξαναείπε.
Τον ρώτησα τι τρώει και είπε μια ζαμπονοτυρόπιτα. Του πήρα μία και του την έφερα.
Δεν το πίστευε.
-Σ'ευχαριστώ πολύ! μου είπε πέφτωντας με τα μούτρα.
-Πόσες μέρες έχεις να φας;
-Πέντε; μέτρησε με τα δάχτυλά του.
Μπορεί να μην ήταν πέντε, μπορεί να ήταν δύο ή τρεις. Αλλά και μία μέρα να περάσει που ένας άνθρωπος δε βρίσκει να φάει, είναι απαράδεκτο.
Κάθε τόσο του θυμίζαμε να πείνει λίγο νερό.

Οι αστυνομικοί είχαν ανησυχήσει γιατί τα αίματα ήταν πολλά και μέσα στη μέση και φοβόντουσαν μην τα πιάσει κανένα παιδάκι. Η καθαρίστρια του ηλεκτρικού σιχαινόταν ή φοβόταν να τα καθαρίσει. Όταν ήρθε τελικά μετά από 40 λεπτά με μια σφουγγαρίστρα την κρατούσε όσο πιο μακρυά της μπορούσε.

Μετά από λίγο ο Αντώνης έκανε λίγο εμετό. Τον ρώτησα αν τον πείραξε η ζαμπονοτυρόπιτα και μου είπε ότι ήταν μάλλον από την πρέζα.
Η καθαρίστρια μου έκανε νόημα ότι δεν μπορεί να καθαρίσει και τον εμετό. Τελικά με προτροπή των αστυνομικών και με κάποιες εφημερίδες που πέταξε πάνω στον εμετό, μια σκούπα κι ένα μεγάλο φαράσι τον καθάρισε κάπως.

Εντωμεταξύ ήρθε κι ένας νοσηλευτής σε μηχανή όσο περιμέναμε το ασθενοφόρο. Έβγαλε το ματωμένο παπούτσι του Αντώνη και προσπάθησε να καταλάβει τι είχε συμβεί. Του μιλούσε με οικειότητα και εξέτασε την πληγή.
-Καταλαβαίνεις ότι αυτό δεν είναι ούτε μιας μέρας ούτε πέντε; Πρέπει να πάμε στο νοσοκομείο, του είπε.
-Δε θέλω! έλεγε και ξαναέλεγε ο Αντώνης.
-Για να στο πώ ωμά, αν δεν στο φτιάξουμε θα σου κόψουν το πόδι!
Εκεί ο Αντώνης τρόμαξε λίγο. Ο νοσηλευτής το κατάλαβε και του είπε πιο μαλακά:
-Ρε Αντώνη, αφού ξέρεις ότι το αίμα σου έχει πρόβλημα, τι σου φταίνε οι άλλοι; Πάμε στο νοσοκομείο.
Ο Αντώνης ψέλλισε κάτι και φάνηκε ότι ένιωσε άσχημα.

Μετά μας εξηγούσε ότι ήθελε να πάει στο Αττικό γιατί εκεί τον ξέρει ο διευθυντής και τον βοηθάνε. Όταν του είπαν ότι θα τον πάνε στο ΚΑΤ αντέδρασε, γιατί δεν ήξερε πώς θα γυρίσει στο παγκάκι που κοιμάται συνήθως. Έλεγε και ξαναέλεγε ότι θα πάει στο Αττικό αύριο.
-Είναι χασάπηδες στο ΚΑΤ! μας έλεγε.
Ο Σίφης τον διαβεβαίωσε πως θα είναι μια χαρά κι ότι τους ξέρει επειδή δουλεύει εκει. Μετά του έκανε πλάκα ότι έχει και ωραίες γυναίκες εκεί και γελούσαν.

Ο Αντώνης μας έλεγε ότι δε θέλει να πετάξουμε το παπούτσι του γιατί δεν έχει άλλο. Όσο του το έβγαζε ο νοσηλευτής ούρλιαζε από τον πόνο. Ένας από τους αστυνομικούς τον άφησε να σφίγγει το χέρι του όσο πονούσε. Ένας άλλος του έλεγε να κάνει λίγο υπομονή κι ότι καταλαβαίνουν ότι πονάει.Ήταν και οι μόνοι που έδειξαν μία κάποια ευαισθησία απέναντί του από τους αστυνομικούς. Ο νοσηλευτής έβαλε το παπούτσι σε μία σακούλα και του το έδωσε.

Στις 3μμ περίπου εδέησε να εμφανιστεί το ασθενοφόρο. Οι τραυματιοφορείς ήταν πολύ ευγενικοί και με κατανόηση. Τον έβαλαν πάνω σε ένα φορείο μαζί με τα πράγματά του και μας ρώτησαν αν θα πάμε μαζί.

-Είναι απλοί περαστικοί, είπε ο νοσηλευτής.
Κοιταχτήκαμε με το Σίφη. Ένιωσα ένα σφίξιμο.

Ο Αντώνης μας ευχαρίστησε και τον χαιρετούσαμε όπως απομακρυνόταν πάνω στο φορείο.

Περιμέναμε να φύγει το ασθενοφόρο. Χαιρετήσαμε και το νοσηλευτή ο οποίος έφυγε με το μηχανάκι του.

Μιλήσαμε για 4-5 λεπτά για τον Αντώνη, την εμπειρία που ζήσαμε μαζί του, και πόση λύπη νιώσαμε γι'αυτήν την ψυχή και το αβέβαιο μέλλον της. Μετά χαιρετηθήκαμε και ο κάθε ένας πήρε το δρόμο του.

Το σημείο στο οποίο καθόταν ο Αντώνης δεν είχε σχεδόν κανένα απομεινάρι της ιστορίας του.
Οι περαστικοί πατούσαν πάνω του χωρίς να ξέρουν ότι πριν λίγα λεπτά εκεί υπέφερε ένας άνθρωπος.

... Και η ζωή συνεχίστηκε ...

Older Men

I am 29 years old.

During this time I have more than often observed (or been the recipient of) older men either discretiding, disrespecting or feeling entitled over -mostly younger- women.

Older men many times feel the urge to instruct women on how to do things they already know how to do, or feel entitled to explain things about women issues to us, as if they -who have never been women- know better. There is actually a term describing this behaviour: mansplaining.

Other times, older men feel that they deserve more space, physically and verbally. They feel that they matter more and they make a point of showing it to us through their behaviour.
I cannot tell you how many times older men have ignored me in conversations, how many times they have tried to erase my presence or how many times they have shown discomfort, or even anger, for the fact that I might take more physical space than them.
I cannot tell you how many times they have demanded I remain silent, and have gotten infuriated when I didn't; especially when I voiced a different opinion to theirs. And those times when my argument was stronger, they lost their shit. They tried to crush me similarly to how you try to squish a mosquito who just bit you. Like an annoying (yet not dangerously serious) threat. However, when they saw I was more persistent and withstanding than a mosquito, they expressed rage.

I'd dare say it's as if they believe the world belongs to them, and we should all obey their biddings and agree with their opinions (even when they're extremely hurtful and harmful towards us).

I -unfortunately- cannot tell you how many times I had been catcalled by middle aged men as a teenager. I do not think I can describe the horror and disgust I felt when men my dad's age -and older- made it clear that they lusted after me, a child. But they felt entitled to it. They somehow, for some unthinkable reason, decided it was OK to show sexual attraction towards an underage girl who could have been their own daughter. As if I was theirs to take; as if I wasn't my own person.
Weirdly enough, the older I got, the less harassment I received from men over 40. I guess I turned too old -or too independent- for them.

In the past few years I became even more outspoken, and I completely dispelled the 'older man myth.' In other words, the notion that I should succumb to the logic that older men are on the top of the human pyramid. Because even if they are -and sadly they have placed themselves there- I will not accept that and, I will not bow down to anyone. I am an independent entity who supports equality. Screw pyramids, we need more circles.

Interestingly enough, the more apparent my 'I won't respect you if you disrespect me merely due to you being an older man' behaviour became, the more vicious and aggressive older men were towards me.

And you know what? I don't give a fuck.
I am not afraid to be myself, I am not afraid to stand my ground, I am not afraid to oppose you when you're wrong.
And if you don't like that, older man well, you can do one.

By Charles Baudelaire

"Aux objets répugnants nous trouvons des appas"

(In repulsive objects we find enticing lures)

- Au Lecteur, Fleurs Du Mal

(To the Reader, The Flowers of Evil)

Περιμένοντας το νυχτερινό τρόλεϊ στο Σύνταγμα

Το Σύνταγμα μετά τα μεσάνυχτα μεταλλάσσεται σε μία εναλλακτική καρικατούρα της πραγματικότητας.

Βλέπεις από μεσήλικες πλανόδιους μουσικούς με ροζ τούφες και σκουλαρίκια, μέχρι τρελλούς που επιτίθενται κατά συρροή σε ταρίφες ή συνδιαλέγονται με το κενό, στυλάτους άστεγους, και μέσα σ'όλα αυτά τουρίστες που δεν έχουν ιδέα τι γίνεται γύρω τους.
Κι έτσι όπως παρατηρείς το αλλόκοτο σκηνικό που ξετυλίγεται γύρω σου, κάνεις φιλίες και χαβαλέ με άλλους παρατηρητές της νύχτας.

υγ. Ποιητική αηδία.

Απαγορεύονται τα ταττουάζ στον 'οίκο' του θεού

Τρου στόρι:

Εκεί που περιμένω να μπω στην εκκλησία για το μνημόσυνο της γιαγιάς μου, με πιάνει μία άγνωστη γιαγιά από το χέρι.
-Αυτό το απαγορεύει η θρησκεία μας, λέει δείχνοντας το μανίκι ταττού μου.
-Η θρησκεία σας μπορεί να το απαγορεύει.
-Το απαγορεύει η θρησκεία μας!
-Η δική σας μπορεί να το απαγορεύει.
-Μα είσαι στην εκκλησία, άρα τι λες;
-Δεν έχω έρθει στη λειτουργία, στο μνημόσυνο της γιαγιάς μου ήρθα.
-Το είπα επειδή η θρησκεία μας το απαγορεύει και το είδα. Ο Χρηστός...
(εκεί σταμάτησα να παρακολουθώ)
-Το θεωρώ μεγάλη αγένεια να πιάνετε μία άγνωστη και να της λέτε κάτι τέτοιο. Εγώ ποτέ δε θα το έκανα αυτό. Δεν είναι σωστό.
-Ξέρεις, και μένα έχει τέτοιο η εγγόνα μου.
(μένω μαλάκας)
-Εχμ, τι να πω. Νά'στε καλά...
-Κι εσύ παιδάκι μου.

...

Random Thoughts LXXIV

Why are we so desperately and hopelessly attracted to dark personalities and emotionally damaged people?
Why do we find someone's inner perversions, and darkness so charming?

Εξωφρενικό γεγονός με ασυνείδητο ιδιοκτήτη σκύλου

Πριν κάποιες μέρες, όπως οδηγούσε η μητέρα μου κοντά στην Αγία Βαρβάρα βλέπει έναν τύπο με ένα λύκο. Τον πήγαινε βόλτα και είχε ένα από αυτά τα λουριά που μπορείς να τα μακρύνεις με το πάτημα ενός κουμπιού. Ο τυπάς δεν κοίταγε καν τι έκανε το σκυλί και του είχε μακρύνει υπερβολικά το λουρί.

Η μητέρα μου παρατήρησε ότι κοντά τους, σε ένα παρκαρισμένο αυτοκίνητο υπήρχε μία γάτα από κάτω.

Ο σκύλος όρμησε στη γάτα και τη βούτηξε από το πόδι.
Η μητέρα μου σταμάτησε το αυτοκίνητο και πήγε να βοηθήσει το γατί.
Ο ιδιοκτήτης του σκύλου δεν προσπάθησε καν να τον τραβήξει, σε σημείο που ο σκύλος είχε πιάσει το γατί με τα δόντια και το κούναγε πέρα δώθε.

Ευτυχώς επενέβη η μητέρα μου, η οποία έξαλλη απείλησε τον ιδιοκτήτη ο οποίος θυμήθηκε να κοντύνει το λουρί του σκύλου μετά από όλα αυτά.

Το γατί λογικά σώθηκε μιας και με το που το άφησε ο σκύλος έφυγε τρέχοντας.

Η μητέρα μου θυμωμένη φώναζε του τύπου και τον στόλισε κανονικά, υπενθυμίζοντάς του ότι όταν έχεις μεγάλο σκυλί, και ειδικά τόσο άγριο, δεν επιτρέπεται να το κυκλοφορείς χωρίς φίμωτρο.

Αυτός ψέλλισε κάτι κι έφυγε γρήγορα γιατί εντωμεταξύ είχε σηκωθεί όλη η γειτονιά στο πόδι από τις φωνές της μάνας μου κι έκραζε τον τύπο.

Και θα ήθελα να πω τα εξείς:
Αν θες να έχεις σκύλο, και μάλιστα μεγάλο, έχεις και κάποιες ευθύνες.
Πρώτον, να μην τον κάνεις δολοφόνο.
Δεύτερον, να μην τον κυκλοφορείς χωρίς φίμωτρο (ειδικά αν είναι άγριος).
Τρίτον, να έχεις το νου σου συνεχώς όταν τον βγάζεις βόλτα.

Το σκυλί είναι σαν παιδί. Και δεν υπερβάλλω καθόλου. Αν δεν μπορείς να είσαι σωστός γονιός στο σκύλο σου, μην πάρεις σκύλο.

Fear of Death

Fear of death is something that has been torturing me since a very young age. It has been paralysing at times. Avoidance and inaction feels like freezing time after all. Not doing, inertia, gives you the false impression that you managed to pause life itself. 
But you didn't. 

Sometimes you may even consider inertia as 'not living.' And if you're not living, how could you ever die?
The safety not acting brings is very comforting. You make no right, you make no wrong, and you also don't progress. Because progressing means death. Doing brings you a step closer to death. 

I have been avoiding dealing with death for a very long time. The first time I had to face death was when family pets died. The first couple of times I was too young to understand what death meant. Then, I realised death is loss. Death is not ever seeing someone or something again, never experiencing life with them again, never experiencing what you love about them again.

When I was ten, my mum's mother, my grandma, passed away. She was 96 and bed bound for the last eight years of her life. She died in her sleep, on an armchair in the living room, as I was playing with my toys in the same room. They told me she died in her own bedroom a few minutes later. I recently was told by a cousin that she actually died in front of me. I still cannot digest that. I have no recollection of it. At the time, I didn't really deal with her death. I wasn't even allowed at her funeral. It wasn't until years later that I actually managed to come to terms with her passing.

The following years I heard about a few of my parents' relatives and acquaintances passing away. Most of the time I didn't even know them in person, so even though I might have felt a bit shaken, I was able to move on without paying attention. The very few times someone I actually knew passed away I didn't really think about it. I was sad and even devastated when I heard about it, but the next day it was as if the bad news had disappeared from my thoughts. Even when I went to someone's funeral, I tried to treat it like a bad dream. It wasn't real to me. It wasn't that I didn't care about those people, it was that I didn't have the mental capacity to deal with loss. I didn't know how to mourn and move on. 

One day before I turned 21, our dog, Lulu, had to be put down. She had multiple types of cancer and she was suffering. She was 15 years old. I had to tell her goodbye, so I spent some time with her, telling her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. We had her since I was six. I couldn't stop crying. After the vet put her down I didn't stop crying for a week. I couldn't eat, I couldn't speak. I was a mess. Up to this day I feel like she's going to come to the kitchen sometimes and give us her googly eyes to get food. 

I took an oath to never have a dog or any other pet after that. I didn't have the strength to live with their loss. 

In the past five years I keep on hearing about death. In my personal circles and in the world. Terrorism, mass murders, suicides, old age, diseases etc. And I block it. I desperately attempt to never think about it. Many times I fail though. And those times it's tremendously hard to get on with life. 

After the loss of a close family friend a few months ago, then my grandma’s and more recently a family member’s miscarriage I have been thinking about death constantly.

We recently visited our family friend's widow. She was a shadow of her once cheerful self. There was a sadness in her eyes, a surrender. She's 56 years old, relatively young. Still, you could tell she didn't know how to keep on living. She had been married to her husband since she was 17 years old. She only knew how to live as his wife. She had never experienced adult life without him. Luckily, she became grandmother a few months prior to her husband's passing. From our conversation I realised her grandchild is what is keeping her alive. The night after our visit I found it hard to sleep. I couldn't shake her image from my head. The way she sat, how many times she almost burst into tears...

On the 23rd of July my dad's mother, my other grandma, passed away at 102. She died in her sleep on her bed, surrounded by her children and children in law. I hadn't seen her much in the past ten years, only a couple of times a year -if so-, since I lived in England. The last 2 years she couldn't communicate and didn't know what was going on most of the time. The only time I cried was when during her funeral, one of the children she saved as a nurse spoke about her life. I still haven't mourned her loss. Maybe because I didn't spend as much time with her. The funeral was quite hard, especially since my aunt decided she wanted an open casket. She looked quite peaceful, as if she was asleep. However, when I touched her forehead to say goodbye, she was frozen. Then it hit me: That was her dead body. It was an empty vessel and my grandma wasn't in there anymore.

I haven't been able to sleep properly since her passing. My nightmares have gotten worse and my anxiety has hit the roof. I think with her death and what came after her death, I had to admit that life ends. I had to face that life is short and when the end comes, it's the end. 

Please don't respond with your religious beliefs about the afterlife; they're irrelevant to me. And unnecessary at this point. I personally believe death brings the end. You're gone. Nothingness.
And that will be forever hard to handle.

Two days ago I was informed that a relative of mine -who has been trying to get pregnant since April- had a miscarriage. It was very early stages of the pregnancy, but she was still broken. I didn't speak with her much as we're trying to give the couple privacy. Nevertheless, I could feel her pain for the loss of a future child. The loss of her hopes that she would be a mother. Her and her husband are mourning at the moment. 

It has been a very tough summer. The warmth of the weather collides with the deaths in my immediate circles, only highlighting the antithesis.
Quite mentally drained at the moment, I'm hopelessly searching for a healthy strategy on coming to terms with loss, with death.
I have a very long way to go, and I'm unsure I'll ever manage it. 

~

ps. In reading this, I hope you find comfort in the fact that you are not alone. We all come across death and loss in life. It's one of the few things that we all have in common, a few things that can unite us.
ps2. Part of a poem inspired by the events of this summer.

My grandma passed away

I just received a phone call that my grandma passed away.
She was 101 years old, but that doesn't make it any easier.
She was a truly spectacular woman.

A bit of her story:
When she was a child she wasn't allowed to go to school because it was unthinkable to send your daughter to school back then, unless you were rich.
She learned how to write and read by herself, and she sometimes stood outside her brother's classroom just to hear what the teachers had to say. The teachers suggested to her father that she should take her brother's place in the classroom.
When she was a teenager they sent her in Asia Minor to work for a rich family as a maid. There, she had access to a huge library and studied continuously.
Later on she was part of the resistance (EPON) and gave people flyers to inform them of the current situation and anti regime moves they could partake in (something that was punishable by death at the time).
Then, she became a volunteer nurse and treated those who were fighting for Greece's freedom. There she met my grandad who was in the resistance as well and had been tortured by Germans. They got married and had two children.
She was very strongly urging both my dad and his sister to go to school and learn. She considered education to be paramount. So she worked two jobs to make sure they could finish school (as my grandad was a person with physical disabilities and a fisherman, so he didn't make much). She saved numerous children as a nurse, since she didn't ask for money to do their shots.
When her daughter had children my grandma raised them because she was married to someone who worked in the army and they had to move a lot.
She lived to see some of her grandchildren's children as well.
In her lifetime, she and my grandad made sure that they bought a house, so her children would be able to have a place to call home.
Up to when she was 80+ years old she would still take the bus to the city.
Unfortunately, later she became bed bound, and in the past few years she didn't remember much. But she was always surrounded by love from three generations.

This description doesn't even do her and her story justice, but I'm a tad too emotional to think and write properly.

Γιαγιά, καλό ταξίδι <3

"But you seem fine"

One of the most hurtful and insulting things I had ever heard was when people didn't believe I wasn't feeling well "because I didn't show it."
To assume that one will allow themselves to be vulnerable and "seem weak" in front of you is not only inconsiderate, but also ignorant.
Us who have been suffering for long know exactly how to hide our pain. And to doubt that pain merely because you can't see it is egotistical to say the least.