I’ve posted quite a few times about my brilliant ideas that I will implement when I am the CEO. The CEO of what? Dunno. But the organisation will be pretty cool, don’t you worry about that. Today, I wanted to share a possible office design for EverydaySparks Inc, via the awesome Cool Hunter website. Located in Bangkok, the headquarters of telecommunications company dtac has got to be one of the best office spaces in the world. And my professional HR opinion is that any job that you do would have to be more fun if you did it there. Don’t believe me? Check out these pics…
Now THAT’S a breakout area. Who needs a desk, I say.Oh the bookshelves, the bookshelves!
And there’s a ‘FunFloor’, featuring indoor soccer, table tennis, and concert & performance spaces. Oh, and a running track. Uh huh.
Run away from annoying colleagues.
You can read more about the incredible dtac office on The Cool Hunter site here. And I am accepting applications to join EverydaySparks Inc, if you’re up for an undefined role in an unclear organisation. With rockin’ office space.
Well, it’s coming up to that time again. The time when the festive season and goodwill towards all take a backseat to the business of shopping. And that fabulous department store in the USA, Neiman Marcus, has just released its 2012 Christmas catalog. And if any of the ‘2012 Fantasy Gifts’ are on your wishlist, then I think you’d better write your letter to Santa as soon as possible – he’ll need time to re-mortgage his house, sell off all the other toys and lease out the reindeer. The catalog features some great gift ideas for everyone – here are some of my highlights…
Like the JetLev R200’s creator, you’ve dreamed about jetpack flight since first seeing it in the movie Thunderball. Finally, technology has caught up with fantasy! One part sci-fi, three parts British secret service agent, and 100 percent pure adrenaline rush, your water-propelled jetpack is about to send your spirits—and your self—soaring. Excitement builds as you take to the skies and experience the rush of personal flight. It’s a beautiful day for adventure. So, strap yourself in, engage the throttle, and up, up, and away you go!
A jetpack for only $99,500? Crazy, right?!
Leaping lizards! Your stomach is doing cartwheels as you wait in the wings for your cue. A nervous smile spreads across your face as you realize THIS IS IT! You made it to The Great White Way! And soon, you’ll be taking the stage in one of theater’s most beloved plays, ANNIE: The Musical. The stage manager gives you the nod, and you step into the spotlight. Your role as a walk-on performer? To help the adorably good-natured orphan and her canine companion teach the world that perseverance and unwavering hope can change lives. After your curtain call, you’ll sit down with one of the show’s producers for a celebratory five-star meal.
Only $30,000 to appear in a musical with children and animals? Merry Christmas!
Dawn breaks. The hens descend from their bespoke Versailles-inspired Le Petit Trianon house to their playground below for a morning wing stretch. Slipping on your wellies, you start for the coop and are greeted by the pleasant clucking of your specially chosen flock and the site of the poshest hen house ever imagined. Your custom-made multilevel dwelling features a nesting area, a “living room” for nighttime roosting, a broody room, a library filled with chicken and gardening books for visitors of the human kind, and, of course, an elegant chandelier. The environment suits them well as you notice the fresh eggs awaiting morning collection. Nearby, you pick fresh vegetables or herbs from your custom-built raised gardens. You’ve always fancied yourself a farmer—now thanks to Heritage Hen Farm, you’re doing it in the fanciest way possible!
$100,000 so my chickens can live in a Versailles-inspired house with a library and chandelier? Yes please!
You can check out the other must-have gifts in the 2012 Fantasy Catalog here. The ‘normal’ Christmas catalog also features gifts for under $250, if you must.
Like most blogs, EverydaySparks attracts quite a bit of spam. The garbled messages are generally caught by the very clever spam filter and put aside for me to check. And yes, I realise that I just made it sound as though I think there’s a person who acts as the filter, looking through the incoming messages to check what’s good and what’s not. (And I appreciate it, SpamMan, I really do.) Anyways, mostly the messages are just weird, complimenting me on my posts (yes, that’s the first spam tip off!) and recommending a link to a strange product or website. Or computer virus.
But today, there was a message that sounded way too poetic to trash straight away, so I thought I’d share it with you here (minus the virus spreading link). Brought a tear to my eye, it did…
Unquestionably consider that which you stated.
Your favorite reason appeared to be at the net the simplest factor to remember of. I say to you, I certainly get irked while other folks think about issues thatthey just do not understand about.
You managed to hit the nail upon the top and outlined out the entire thing without having side effect , other folks could take a signal.
I’ll be honest – I’ve never really understood cross stitch. I know there are people out there who love it and find it therapeutic or wholesome or blah blah blah, but I’ve always thought it was a little bit pointless. Until now. I have found my kind of cross stitch, created by Julie Jackson at Subversive Cross Stitch. I’ll let Julie explain: “Subversive Cross Stitch began in the spring of 2003 as a form of anger management therapy when I was dealing with a cruel bully of a boss. At my wit’s end and in dire need of some art therapy, I stopped by a craft store on the way home from work one day…”
And the rest, as they say, is history. Rather than sticking to the pattern of pretty little pink roses, Julie freestyled and added an expletive (it’s a family blog, so I won’t spell it out here) to better capture how she was feeling. The expletive was of course neatly cross stitched into the centre of the circle of pretty pink roses, which got Julie thinking about the benefits of cross stitch with attitude. And so it began – you can now get kits, tips and supplies from Julie’s website. Perfect for a home made gift with a difference, or perhaps for someone who’s cranky about having a bit of time on their hands. Probably not quite right for Granny’s 85th birthday though.
I can’t show too many examples of Julie’s fantastic work here, but I assure you that the Subversive Cross Stitch website is well worth a visit!
I really do.The modern ‘Keep Calm & Carry On’.Perfect for the office.So wrong that it’s right.One of my favourite pieces of HR advice.
That’s just a taste of the amazing things you’ll find on the Subversive Cross Stitch website here. So much inspiration, I love it!
And so, it has happened. After keeping up my running program while I was on holidays and feeling great about the fact that I was injury-free as I ran further and further, I have hit a snag. And by ‘snag’ I mean ‘inflamed bursar’. At least, I think that’s what the physio called it when I visited on Wednesday. I was confused as I always thought a Bursar was that old guy at school in charge of collecting the fees and managing the books, but seemingly it’s also the name of little sacs of fluid in your body that help the tendons or muscles (or somethings) move smoothly. Until one gets inflamed and makes you walk like a cowboy / old grandma; and hurts when you sit down and stand up; and hurts when you move your leg in bed; and hurts when you get in and out of cars. Yes, it hurts.
No more running for the Pinkies – for now.
But it hurt even more when I went to see the physio. He seemed like such a nice young man on introduction – he asked me lots of questions and got me to do some tricks like standing on one leg while he tried to push me over. Fun stuff like that. My hip was already a bit sore when I arrived – I confessed to him that I’d felt as though it was getting better before the appointment and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to describe the pain to him, which would have wasted his time. So, I cleverly decided to hop up and down on the bad leg a few times – and man alive did that do the trick. It did seem like a good idea at the time, I swear.
These Wexford donkeys were the last to see me running – for now.
Although I obviously knew that the injury site was around my hip, I wasn’t sure what the appropriate clothing would be to allow the physio to do his work. He said that I’d need to change into shorts and, hey presto, he produced a box of shorts from somewhere in the office. A box of other people’s shorts, of all colours and sizes. I told him I’d try a few on as if I was having a fun day at the shops, but as I shuffled through the box, I realised that although there were a range of different sizes, there was only one length. And that was probably best described as ‘pole dancer short’. Now, I’m a pretty conservative lass and I’m not known to flash my lily white pins around town, so it was only the promise of ending the annoying pain that saw me get into a pair of teeny tiny turquoise shorts and try to look both sporty and confident at the same time. All while managing a distinct lean over to the right to avoid inflaming my injury.
Anyways, the physio then proceeded to poke and prod and ultrasound and massage and release fire ants and thunder bolts and daggers. At least, that’s what it felt like, but there probably weren’t any thunder bolts. And then, like all good practitioners, he encouraged me to “just relax”. ARE YOU FOR REAL, MAN? It was like a crazed attack and I had to put my hands under my head so that I wouldn’t punch him in the face. I told him that’s what I was doing and he laughed and said he had never been hit yet. Lots of attempts, apparently, but none had connected. It sounded like a dare to me, but I battled on and tried to pretend it was all fine. Unfortunately, a poker face is not one of my talents, so he kept apologising as my face must have contorted into a series of loony grimaces.
That’s how I felt too, baby.
And just when I thought the torture was over, he returned with a heat pack and an ice pack and placed them both in the neighbourhood of the injury. I’m not sure how those two things don’t just cancel each other out – it seemed a bit like trying to serve baked ice cream for dessert – but he left them on for a while and disappeared. I lay there on the bed, with my head on the pillows, and dozed off into a slumber. NO, I DID NOT. I lay there on the bed that’s really a table, in my borrowed shorts that were probably for a pole dancer, with my head on two pillows that have surely supported the heads of many other victims, with the medical equivalent of baked ice cream on my hip.
everydaysparks 