To earn a bit more money I subscribed to the transcribing register at my place of work. I get sent a CD or a DVD and I have to transcribe every word said and also the 'erms' and 'umms' that feature as well. In fact it's quite freaky the amount of times people say, " you know what I mean" or "like". And these people aren't chav's you'd find outside the local off licence as well which makes you think everyone really says these little things but just camouflage it with a plum voice. However whilst transcribing, writing a blog and tapping the keyboard at work my left wrist is starting to develop an ache. This isn't due to copious amounts of masturbation but because of constant bashing of buttons can actually give you pain. So I decided I had to with hold from one of the three and as work is something you can't escape unless you let yourself go (and to be honest wrist pain isn't a significant reason to do this) I can't really pursue that option any further. I like to write on this blog as I get some gratification from it if they day hasn't brought me anything already so wasn’t going to halt this. So I decided I had to stop the transcribing but when I found out that a lucrative transcribing package was involved I thought I can't give this up as it's such a nice little side earner. No, I'll have to carry on with this. So now I'm just typing with my right hand like a fool who doesn't know where the keys are on the keyboard. I can't help but feel kind of like Opi from Family Guy. Although I'm really slow at least I'm managing to maintain everything I want to do, for the time being without really suffering.
However, I’m currently discovering transcribing is a cumbersome slow process that requires copious amounts of patience. I’ve got an hour conversation to transcribe between three people talking about charities and arts. Sounds quite easy, no? No it isn’t, the three people talk over each other so you can’t work out what they are saying, one guy never ends his sentence before he starts another one and the other person only wants to talk about their charity and some how manages to do this even though it’s irrelevant. It’s been such a slow process which has taken up most of my free time during this past week, and even now I’m not finished. It’s one of those things that makes you feel uncomfortable because you’re body is typing away while your mind can’t help but whisk itself away and explore your imagination when all of a sudden you’ve got to rip it away from its indulgence and re-engage it because you don’t know if someone said ‘their’ or ‘they’re’. I’m due to finish tomorrow and already I’ve bashed out over 10,000 words mostly with only the use of one hand.
Well I managed to type up some more prose after my transcribing for the day but it’s full of typos because my eyes keep closing every time I focus on something.
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“I’m sorry I just can’t help myself sometimes.”
“Whatever, you need to fucking relax. Life doesn’t revolve around Kirsty. People don’t wake up thinking ‘what did Kirsty do last night? Is Kirsty alright? I didn’t come here to see what you got up to last night I didn’t come down here to see Hayley, I came down here to get the vacuum cleaner because Derek told me I’ve got hoover the men’s floor because I was caught putting a security tag on Timmy as he walked out the door.”
An eruption of laughter came deep within Kirsty’s belly as it belted around the stock room infecting both Dev and even Hayley from afar, who was laughing not for the sake of it this time. Only Yannish couldn’t hear any of the laughing. His eyes bulge out and he swallows slowly, ‘just like a cliché’ whispers a little voice in his head. This quickly snaps him from his trance and he closes the door quickly just catching a last glimpse of Dev turning around to walk this way. Yannish turns around and sees the battered vacuum cleaner lying there. The lid is hanging off one hinge and the bag is slit so that sprays of dust can be seen all over it. At first he considers lifting up and putting it by the front of the door and then hide until it’s collected. But where? There isn’t anywhere to go. It sinks into him now that to get out of here with some chance of living the life he woke up to this morning, he’ll have to shoot Dev. “I can’t do it” he says as his hand pulls the gun up to his chest and points it outwards. He can see his arm shaking as he holds it wobbling like he’s suffering an electric shock so he claps his other arm onto the gun to stop it, but it doesn’t. He waits now, staring intently at the door waiting for the handle to move, to see the tiny little shake it makes before either moving up or down. That’s what Yannish is waiting for, that’s when he knows he has to be ready. A tear appears on his left eye swaying slightly by the air ventilation, Yannish blinks to let it roll down his face leaving a small outline of its trail as it reaches his lip and he thinks “How did it come to this?”
However, I’m currently discovering transcribing is a cumbersome slow process that requires copious amounts of patience. I’ve got an hour conversation to transcribe between three people talking about charities and arts. Sounds quite easy, no? No it isn’t, the three people talk over each other so you can’t work out what they are saying, one guy never ends his sentence before he starts another one and the other person only wants to talk about their charity and some how manages to do this even though it’s irrelevant. It’s been such a slow process which has taken up most of my free time during this past week, and even now I’m not finished. It’s one of those things that makes you feel uncomfortable because you’re body is typing away while your mind can’t help but whisk itself away and explore your imagination when all of a sudden you’ve got to rip it away from its indulgence and re-engage it because you don’t know if someone said ‘their’ or ‘they’re’. I’m due to finish tomorrow and already I’ve bashed out over 10,000 words mostly with only the use of one hand.
Well I managed to type up some more prose after my transcribing for the day but it’s full of typos because my eyes keep closing every time I focus on something.
********************************************************
“I’m sorry I just can’t help myself sometimes.”
“Whatever, you need to fucking relax. Life doesn’t revolve around Kirsty. People don’t wake up thinking ‘what did Kirsty do last night? Is Kirsty alright? I didn’t come here to see what you got up to last night I didn’t come down here to see Hayley, I came down here to get the vacuum cleaner because Derek told me I’ve got hoover the men’s floor because I was caught putting a security tag on Timmy as he walked out the door.”
An eruption of laughter came deep within Kirsty’s belly as it belted around the stock room infecting both Dev and even Hayley from afar, who was laughing not for the sake of it this time. Only Yannish couldn’t hear any of the laughing. His eyes bulge out and he swallows slowly, ‘just like a cliché’ whispers a little voice in his head. This quickly snaps him from his trance and he closes the door quickly just catching a last glimpse of Dev turning around to walk this way. Yannish turns around and sees the battered vacuum cleaner lying there. The lid is hanging off one hinge and the bag is slit so that sprays of dust can be seen all over it. At first he considers lifting up and putting it by the front of the door and then hide until it’s collected. But where? There isn’t anywhere to go. It sinks into him now that to get out of here with some chance of living the life he woke up to this morning, he’ll have to shoot Dev. “I can’t do it” he says as his hand pulls the gun up to his chest and points it outwards. He can see his arm shaking as he holds it wobbling like he’s suffering an electric shock so he claps his other arm onto the gun to stop it, but it doesn’t. He waits now, staring intently at the door waiting for the handle to move, to see the tiny little shake it makes before either moving up or down. That’s what Yannish is waiting for, that’s when he knows he has to be ready. A tear appears on his left eye swaying slightly by the air ventilation, Yannish blinks to let it roll down his face leaving a small outline of its trail as it reaches his lip and he thinks “How did it come to this?”
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