all my heroes are weirdos

We're All Mad Here

oh crêpe

So I’ve applied to win the lottery this week, just waiting to hear back on that.

A quick Google search does indicate that I only have a 1 in 175 million chance though, so I think the best approach to take is: expect the worst and hope for the best. 

And so the job hunt continues…

Talker vs Doer 

There are a few personality traits I’m not a fan of; relentlessly negative, perpetually and pointlessly argumentative, but one of my main dislikes is someone who’s a Talker and not a Doer.

I do provide sympathy on a case by case basis, but overall I don’t want to hear you moaning about a job you hate, your lack of money or how fat you feel.

If you haven’t applied for other jobs, haven’t worked some extra hours or written up a savings plan and sit in watching Love Island, eating takeaways every night then things are never going to get better.

Despite earning a decent wage for the last decade I’ve worked to live, not lived to work – a philosophy I’m okay with. The majority of my funds have gone on adventures, social outings, a vast and somewhat unconventional wardrobe, and tonnes of books. My savings amount to nothing more than the contents of a penny jar.

But with a career on hold and staying alive being quite high on my priority list, I do need more than a few outdated pound coins and copper to see me through the next few months.

So my short term goal is pretty simple: do stuff to make money.

mo’ money, less problemz

eBay has now been well and truly mastered – I am no longer paying people to take things from me, and I’ve advertised my services as a language tutor for French and German.

So far I’ve only had one prospective student and it’s one of my Tier 0s (best friends), who I couldn’t possibly charge. She’ll end up just cooking me dinner in return for a few Ooh La Las, and I’ll feel like Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer getting paid in meatballs. Only meatballs don’t pay the bills.

In addition to this, I’ve pimped myself out as a house-sitter and a dog walker. There have been no takers as of yet, and given my somewhat calamitous tendencies I am a little hesitant to perform either task.

My parents foster guide dogs and the last one they had, Winnie, had only been in our care a few hours and wanted to play with a sock. I thought she just wanted a nice little game of tug of war, and so I gave it to her… she swallowed it whole.

I didn’t know what it was like to feel like a murderer before then. It’s not a very nice feeling, especially when it’s dog murder….. but luckily a few days later she pooed it out.

The Law of Probability 

Apart from #salespitching out the aforementioned ‘skills’, my approach to short-term money-making has been very much scattergun. It’s like closing your eyes and firing your CV out of an AK47.

I’ve sent it off to all sorts of weird and wonderful temping agencies, events companies, left it in bars and cafés and posted it on social media.

ET VOILA!

You’re looking at the next Maître-Crêpier at Minot, a travelling crêpe stall.

Co-owner, Aurelie, called me up very excited about the fact that je parle français and having read my CV, totally intrigued by my application to be a Master Crapper (that is kind of what it sounds like).

We chatted, en français of course, about my Quarter Life Crisis, the penny-making mission and I asked how she and her husband started their business twelve years ago.

The festivals we’ll be working are European food markets, so all of the traders come from the lands I attempt to speak the lingo of. It’s outdoors, it’s sociable and I get a free crêpe for lunch. JACKPOT.

There’s only one tiny detail I haven’t yet ironed out – whether or not I will be required to physically make the crêpes. I’ve been known to substitute double cream with a vanilla actimel for steak sauce and although I try my hand at pancakes one Tuesday every year, and some times in between, my success rate is about 1 in 9.

Awful service with a smile I can provide, no problem….but oh merde, I’m crêpe-ing myself if they need me to actually make them.

Et voila monsieur, votre dollop d’oeuf 

 

 

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2 Comments

  1. Derek Rowe 27 June 2018

    Hilarious! If a Maitre Crepier doesn’t make crepes I don’t know what else they would do… I can see it now – there you are in your little truck making these things and people are stood a few metres away trying to feed them to birds. A few metres further away from them are birds walking about because they now can’t get off the ground…

    • allmyheroesareweirdos 29 June 2018 — Post author

      I’m not exaggerating with my pancake success rate, 1 in 9 may even be a little ambitious! I don’t think the birds would even want to taste them…looking forward to writing about being sacked on day one for serving up dollops of congealed egg mix

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