That Scary Thing Called The Future.

Right at this moment there are two google searches open in seperate tabs on my laptop; ‘Post Graduation Degrees in Post-Primary Education‘ and ‘How To Become a Youth Consellor‘. Both are possible paths I would like to take, both are absolutely terrifying possibilities to me, and I’m not really sure why.

To be honest, the thought of the future always scares me because it forces me to recognise that I can’t keep living in my safe little bubble and pretending that everything can stay this way forever. But it also forces me to deal with the possibility that I will fail, which is something I’ve never been great with dealing with.

I think what scares me the most about the future is that it’s not concrete, it’s not dependable and there is no set plan. I have no idea if I will persue either of these paths, I seem to be becoming quite fickle in my career choices these days, jumping from one path to another. But what I do know is that I want to make a good, and lasting impact on someone. I want to help someone achieve something, even if it’s just something small. I want to give someone the opportunity to be certain of their future, in a way that I haven’t been able to give myself.

Recently I saw an article which discussed the terrifying concept of the future for my generation, and one part addressed the fact that most of us, have been asked or ask ourselves ‘What Next?’ on a regular basis, and have been doing so from a young age. We are constantly aware of what our next step is; school, college, job, family, retirement, death. And hopefully in that order! But what happens when we miss a step, or there is what feels like an abyss between steps? It’s a terrifying feeling that leaves you feeling lost and without purpose, something I think our generation is ill equiped to deal with because we are constantly being told by our parents and society as a whole, that the only way to be successful is to follow these steps and have them each complete by a certain time. And that is just the biggest load of bullshit!

In conclusion, I’m not sure where this post started, but somehow it has ended with me being angry at the world. Again.

Sinéad x

Various Ways Not to Piss Off Your Local Shop/Deli Girl.

Some how I managed to make it to my 25th year without engaging in retail work, and I often thought that people exagerated the horrors of dealing with the public. Wow was I wrong!

Over the last few months I’ve been compiling a list in my head of the many ways to avoid pissing off retail workers, and obvioulsy this an exhaustive list, but I’m just going to stick to what I’ve experienced so far.

Be patient. I’m not intentionally going slow to ruin your day. Either the till is going funny on me (not an uncommon occurence) , or I’m just trying to make sure I’m getting everything done properly.

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Don’t leave your stuff/bag/child on the counter and then go explore the shop for the next half an hour trying to decide whether you want something or not. I do have other customers to serve.

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Don’t let your kids run riot. It is not adorable when they decide to climb up on the display shelf I just spent 10 minutes stacking, or when they start licking the glass I just finished cleaning. And despite the fact I’m smiling at your tiny demon, I’m cursing the both of you in my head.

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This is specific to the deli counter. 9 times out of 10, if you can’t see something in the display, it’s not there. And likewise, if I’m mopping the floor, the lights in the display are off, and there is no food left please don’t ask ‘Is there any food left?’.

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If the wet floor sign is out, and you can see me mopping, try to look sorry about walking over my wet floor and leaving foot prints everywhere. I understand you need to walk around the shop, but if you pretend to feel bad about it, I’ll pretend to forgive you.

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This one is a little more my work place specific. If you’ve ordered a pizza, and you have also taken a drink out of the fridge with the intention of buying it, please don’t wait for your pizza, then come to pay for your drink and complain about the queue and the fact your pizza is getting cold!

Do. Not. Sigh. Loudly. Or. Tap. The Counter. All you will get in a return is a fake smile, icy eyes, and an unusually slow service. angry eyes.gif


Don’t call me sweetie or petal in a condescending manner, or in a creepy manner. This should be self-explanantory.

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If you buy a lotto ticket, please don’t say ‘If I win, I’ll remember you 😉‘, because we both know you don’t mean it, and I don’t need that false hope in my life!

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Don’t order something, then act like that’s all you want to order and then proceed to order something else, and then keep doing this!

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Now obvioulsy this doesn’t apply to every customer. Most of the times, customers are lovely, and now and again, you will meet the rare and endangered, really really really nice customer.

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Stay tuned for more super amazing and inspiring content on my life as a shop girl….

Sinéad x

Same Rant. Different Day.

It’s been a year since I graduated from college. Can you believe it? What a fast year, and so much has happened in that year. I got my first proper job and then lost it. I saw my Mam fight cancer and beat the crap out of it. I welcomed a new little person into my life who has had a more profound effect on me than I thought possible. And I like to think I’ve also grown up a hell of a lot.

The one thing that hasn’t changed is the bullshit that is the ‘Post Graduation Year’. I’ve come to terms with the fact that the world after college is just a big pile of steaming crap and that you have to devote all your energy to make it to the top of. But now my sister is graduating and she’s realising it too.

Edel is fierce, passionate, and oh so smart! And as angry as I was about not being able to get my dream job when I left college, I am furious that she may not get hers. The sad reality is that unless you’ve studied business or science, it is rare that you’ll be able to get an entry-level job without having done a bloody Masters or Post-grad programme. Is that not the biggest pile of bullshit you’ve ever heard. So my 4 years studying and working my ass off isn’t enough to be granted an entry level job, with shitty pay and terrible hours? I now have to spend another year of my life and over €10,000 of my money (which I don’t have), just be worthy of your god damn internship?

And that anger and frustration along with some other things is what has caused me to walk away from this vague dream I had of working in the publishing industry. I applied for every ‘great for your cv‘ internship, and every ‘fantastic opportunity’ entry-level job I could find, but was never successful. I did have one interview, but apparently I ‘wasn’t experienced enough’ for their internship which I would have moved country for, despite it not being in the department I wanted.

So I’ve closed and turned off all notifications I had for publishing/editorial internships and entry-level jobs, I’ve deleted the bookmarks with information for publishing jobs, I’ve put the books about the publishing industry on my highest shelf; it’s time for a new dream. And I might already have a lead on one.

So this has basically been a big screw you to the system that tries to take your money, your motivation, and your dreams. And to the people who made it that way. You should be so proud.

Sinéad x



Small Town Girl

I am destined to be a small town girl. That is the realisation I came to today while driving home from my new job as a deli/shop assistant. You know how there are those people who you know will go on to do great things and then there are those who you know will never leave their hometown? I am the latter. And before you get to thinking that this is a ‘oh pity me please’ post, let me beat you to the punch; this is literally my own fault.

I was always a home bird, and it looks like I will be for the foreseeable future. Yes, I moved away for college and was all independent…an hour and half away from home in a city where I had relatives who I could call for anything.

And yes I studied abroad for a semester…one country over, where they spoke the same language, had a similar culture and where I once again, had relatives only one hour away who I could call if things went wrong.

And then college ended and I moved home for ‘the summer’ (a never-ending summer…
), and spoke about moving to Dublin or London once the summer was over. But I ended up getting a job in the same company where my aunt worked and only a 10 minute drive from home. But I comforted myself with the thought that this was only temporary, that i needed this job to save money for when I did move to London. And then I made the fatal mistake, which, seeing as I’m being honest I will admit is the same mistake I always make; I got comfortable.

I was making money, I was with my family and friends, and I was back to being involved in scouts, which was something I didn’t realise I had missed so much until I came back. I made myself a small town girl; I created a safe little bubble/nest/whatever you want to call it, and convinced myself that were I to leave I would fail so miserably that there was no point in trying.

And so we come to the crux of my problem. If we do truly choose our own destiny then there is no denying that I am destined to be small town girl because I do not have the courage to step outside my bubble.

I am the quintessential small town girl. Destined, not for greatness, but to perfect the art of the chicken fillet roll.

Sinéad x

Those who can’t do

I’ve lost count of the number of internships and jobs I’ve applied for, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same amount of jobs and internships I haven’t gotten. And while it has always been my dream to work in the publishing industry, I just don’t know if it’s going to be a realistic dream anymore.

But being the glutton for punishment that I am, I probably won’t completely give up on it just yet, maybe one more push is what it needs. And while I have always been an advocate for following your dreams and pursuing your goals no matter what, I think there’s room for a little bit of reality in my life.

One thing that’s been said to me a lot over the last few years is ‘Would you not consider going into teaching?’ and until now my answer has always been an absolute ‘No‘ but recently I’ve been reconsidering. Since I finished up college and I’ve had more of a chance to get back into scouts, I’ve realised that maybe I was too hasty with my answers.

I like being able to teach the kids the skills they need for scouting, but what I like even more is the sense of accomplishment evident on their faces when they’ve finally gotten it completely right, there’s a sense of pride there and self-belief that wasn’t there before and they’re willing to try to challenge themselves a little more the next time. But more than that, I like that I was able to do that for another person, I was able to give them that.

And while I know that academic teaching is a whole other ballgame and I might not be able for it at all, I think from now on if ever someone asks ‘Would you not consider going into teaching?’, instead of dismissing it straight away, I’ll say ‘Teaching? Maybe’.

Sinéad x