Saint's Day

Saint’s Day ©

By Michael Casey

Today is the feast of Saint Martin de Porres, 3^rd Nov 2015, I introduced him to my daughter a few months ago when our cat went AWOL and only came back when full of fleas. Totoro had gone walkabout, or rather climbabout as cats do. My small daughter was distraught, the cat was her heart’s desire and she and her sister had only got the cat when my heart had broken.

It had been a kind of joke a year ago, almost to the day now. I said if I had a heart attack they could finally have a cat and if I died they could have a dog. So they immediately went looking at cats and dogs on the Internet. In a matter of weeks I had a totally unplanned quadruple heart bypass.

So some saint must have been looking after me, or God really DOES have a sick sense of humour just like in the Blasphemous Rumours song by Depeche Mode. So the girls got a pet, I had to keep my word, so Totoro joined the family. I did pick him or her as she turned out to be, from a photo of 4 kittens from a litter. I chose the pretty one. Totoro turned out to be a ninja cat, who loved climbing trees and catching fleas.

Which brings us to Saint Martin de Porres, I told my daughter if she prayed to him he’d bring Totoro home to us. Well Tororo did come home to us after a day or two, and Saint Martin got a new admirer. I’d shown my daughter an old religious card, it was in my mother’s old prayer book, the only memento I have of my soon to be dead 20 years mother.

We pray to this saint or to that saint when we need a favour, when we are at our wit’s end. It amuses or bemuses other Faiths, and is a great source of comedy. It you are old enough you may remember Milo O’Shea and Yootha Joyce in Mi Mamma, in one episode several statues of the saints are thrown out into the landing because the Pope had said they may not be really saints after all.

Prayer has it rituals, I was an altar boy for 8 years and a reader for 5 years, so I had a front row seat to all the candle carrying and smoke shaking. It is theatre and it can be totally spellbinding. Ironically enough it’s the Requiem Mass which is the nicest, Lazarus being brought back from the dead. Jesus wept for his friend. Even though Lazarus would smell by now Jesus insisted, he brought his friend back to life.

So by using the avenue of a Saint we ask for favours. You’ll ask your mum or your aunty, or a friend to help when you really need a favour. So we use a Saint, though in my own case I can at times scream for the saint called Painkiller, arthritis and post quadruple heart bypass are horrible bedfellows.

In Europe and South America I believe you have a Saint’s Day which is like an extra Birthday, the saint after whom you are named gives you an extra day to celebrate. I’m all in favour of this. Christmas, Birthday, Saint’s Day as well as Pay Day which is a tradition too.

There is a great psychology behind prayer via a saint, it’s like picking your fantasy football team, with no shouting at the team doctor, and then they all work for you. You can see the passing and the build-up, and then a final pass and chip and volley and it’s in the back of the net. GOAL!  The process of prayer is what makes you relax and calms you down. Then you have to accept what is.

You have to work out for yourself is prayer to this saint useful, is any prayer useful to any god, is there a God anywhere? I can only speak from my own life experience. Padre Pio I believe has intervened in my own life, if you read Padre Pio and Me you can judge for yourselves. If you feel humbled by what has happened against all the odds then we are perhaps in the realm of miracles.

The question is do you Believe, or do you wait till you have put your fingers in the wounds.

Happy Saints Day Saint Martin de Porres.

   

The Witch’s Cat who fell to earth ©

 By Michael Casey

It’s Halloween today and now is the night of Halloween into All Saints day in the Morning. But what of this morning when it was in the still of the night and as pitch dark as a witch’s hat or black pot.  Things go bump in the night, and they did, a loud bump to be exact.

BUMP, it went, BUMP it went, BUMP it went, the house shuddered in the noise. What could the BUMP be, then our burglar alarm went off. So I jumped out of bed naked, me and PJs don’t work, I only wore them in hospital. So I bounced out of bed and put my suit of armour on. It literally is a suit of armour, I had it ready for Halloween, now I’d use it to frighten any burglar.

Then I headed for the stairs and fell down them, I was the biggest bump in the night. I checked the perimeter before switching off the alarm, it’s hard to switch off an alarm while wearing a gauntlet. I sat down and heard the cat miaow. It was Totoro our cat, she had been asleep on top of our tall fridge, and decided to go for the long leap, and set off the alarm.

It was her who had fallen to earth not a witch’s familiar, though she would make a perfect witch’s pet. My small daughter came down wondering what was all the noise for, I explained as I put the kettle on. It was 4.30 am and as pitch black as our old coal shed, but it was always a good time for tea.

Upstairs the secondary alarms were still ringing out, so my big daughter went to switch them off. When she came back she asked where had the cat gone. My small daughter ran upstairs to close the window, closing the door after the horse had bolted if you like. Only Totoro had escaped into the dark of the night. She literally was a cat on a hot tin roof, or rather a slippery moss covered roof.

So small daughter hung out the window beseeching Totoro to come back, she tried to bribe her with treats. Meanwhile at ground level I reached up to the roof and asked Totoro to jump down to my outstretched arms. Big daughter brought a chair for me to stand on, only Totoro did not recognise me in the suit of armour.

Totoro disappeared out of my view. Upstairs Totoro had jumped down onto our neighbour’s roof, and it was only by manic shaking of the bag of treats that Totoro was encouraged to move back to our property.

Meanwhile big daughter was getting out our ladder from under the pantry, only she had first to move our stockpile of 48 rolls of toilet paper, which was on offer at Costco. Then she passed out the metal stepladders. I climbed stiffly up the ladder in my suit of armour only to hear small daughter shout triumphantly that she had rescued or rather bribed Totoro to come inside.

So we had a collective sigh of relief and finished our cup of tea, it was 5.00am The cat had not fallen off a witch’s broom, though it had cast its spell over us all, we had danced to its tune, it was witchcraft, and if only it could turn my suit of armour into some nice XXL Pjs.

Google Plus Me Google Plus You

Google Plus Me Google Plus You ©

By Michael Casey

The thing about the Internet is that strange things can and do happen, if it can happen it will happen. Murphy’s Law or Sod’s Law is the fancy name for it. I did work in computer rooms for 25 years or so, which means I know all about crashes and disasters. When I started back in 1978, before I had any white hair, computers were as big as washing machines and you had tape decks as big as wardrobes.

So that was the past, before everybody had a PC, before mobile phones were invented, and before a mobile phone only slightly bigger than a pack of fags, fags means cigarettes in England by the way,  before a mobile could be used to surf the  Internet. I can remember when nobody used the words surf the Internet. You would have been thinking about the Beach Boys if anybody said surf.

So now we all use the internet and email, I’ve been using email on a daily basis since 1999 or maybe a couple of years before that, so that’s 16 years plus. Now we have Google Plus it’s a more confusing version of Facebook, and there is Linkedin which is supposed to be posh Facebook for business people. So the Internet connects people, it also allows scammers to send you rubbish.

A stolen image is used as a front, my own image might be used somewhere. Then a stolen name or even a variant of the real name that goes with the picture is added. Then the scammer is in business, they friend you or add you to their circle. Then the fun begins. You are offered sex, drugs and rock and roll. All kinds of everything, whatever they think will catch you.

We all have received scam emails, but scamming via Facebook or Linkedin or Google Plus, is more fun for them. I delete everything that does not have a decent subject line, but with social media they are already in your front room so to speak. They’ll strike up a conversation, they are Barrister this or Barrister that, they are a holy person, a good christian or muslim or whatever, and then in the very next sentence they want you to do money laundering for them.

$10,000,000 to share with you. They forget they are sending emails to England and still say dollars or euros, which proves the mass produced nature of their scams, they could not be bothered to change the currency. Oh I forgot they are dying of cancer too, in reality they are in a swanky hotel, better than James Bond’s hotels.

On social media they can watch your posts and stalk you, pretend this and pretend that. Comment on and upvote your posts. They are an Australian mining magnate who wants to give you money. In this case I had never even heard of her name, I googled it and smiled, yet another scamming ploy. Why would a billionaire want to give me money, or they are a senior military figure, a general even….

The reality is, they are all full of BS as the Americans say, just trying to con anybody. Just sent us 100dollars and that will cover expenses and in return we will send you $10,000,000 by return of post. Sadly the scammers trick some people into doing this. Me I don’t need money, Health and an end to pain  is all I desire. Though if any billionaires are out there a nice bigger house would be nice. Rupert Murdoch may be in England for the rugby on Saturday so I assume he’ll email or leave a message on my Google Plus. And of course it really will be him. He’ll publish my books and use my radio stories too, www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  

And if I believed that then I’d believe in Fairies, though I do believe in Fairies I do I do, as the film said. So what should I advise you all? Don’t believe anything you find on the Internet. Yes there are a few nice people, I have stumbled over one or two, but the majority are hoaxers and scammers. It may just be I am a magnet for rubbish, or the pain I’ve been having these past two years has made me more cynical, but as they used to say on Hill Street Blues, be careful out there.

Sales Pitch

Sales Pitch ©

By Michael Casey

Let me start by saying I’ve never worked in Sales, that’s SALES but I have sold things. It’s always easy to offer advice than to do the actual job, but you are at a distance from the problem so you can see the wood for the trees. I have in my past lives worked at a 4 star deluxe business hotel for 3 years, in fact I opened the hotel. I ended up as Employee of the Year, a very close runner up…. So let’s take it as read that I knew what I was doing.

My pitch was to tell everybody who entered the hotel just how great it was and what we had to offer, immediately you can see by me using the word WE I felt invested in the Hotel. The training was good, and I was desperate to please as I had a wife and toddlers to feed, starvation always encourages hard work. I really enjoyed the job and it was the most fun, and the hardest work I did in my life.

I must have spoken to 100,000 people over those 3 years I just did not stop talking. My chest size went up 2 inches and my neck size 1 inch due to all the talking, and bag carrying I did. You must be confident and just keep on talking non-stop, having micro conversations with as many people as possible. As soon as anybody entered our lobby I was talking to them within 30 seconds. Our manager Jonathan Walker once went to a rival hotel and he was stood there 20mins before anybody bothered to talk to him. He was horrified, to be honest normally I was like a trap sprung within 15 seconds of any guest arrival, 30 seconds was if I was being lazy or stopped to pick up a speck of dust on the way to my booming Hello and Welcome to CPNEC Birmingham.

So you can see I have experience and ability in the talking side of things. I also spent 3 years at a major law firm here in Birmingham, talking to cleaners, secretaries and lawyers not forgetting all the Tonys on security. It’s all about not being shy but getting up and talking. Back in 1998 I went on a presenting course, it was fun. The next day I was in the Czech Republic and my penfriend asked could I speak to her English language students. So I said yes, totally unexpectedly I was talking to a class of 25, I did 90mins off the top of my head.

Using this experience I was able to teach Esol English to classes from 30 to 120, I got 2 excellents and an exemplary for my external assessment of my teaching skills. Now I’m telling you all this so that you may listen to me when I give you my 2 penny worth about Selling. I could also say that my play Shoplife was accepted for production by a professional theatre back in 1989, you can buy a copy on Amazon. It will teach you how not to behave in a shop, while you laugh your head off.

The first thing to say about selling is that it is all about talking, and not being shy. It’s also about listening. What I hate is seeing sales staff talking to each other huddled up a corner. If you want to talk you can always stand back to back like dualists, that way you can watch 360 degrees of the shop and don’t appear lazy. Chewing gum is a no no too, as is combing your hair or playing with your crotch. 

Stand by the door and drag the customer in with wit and laughter, say how beautiful their dog is, or baby or granddad. Anything within reason to start up a conversation and get them to enter the shop. Walking past the shop doesn’t pay you wages, get them through that door. Be knowledgeable about what you are selling, if its light bulbs or the latest fashion. If you don’t know then say you know a man or woman who does know. Don’t lie or bluff it, you will be found out.

Phil at CPNEC Birmingham was the man I’d ring on the dec phone and I’d point to him at the other side of the car park as he walked in and solved any problem I couldn’t solve myself. It was seamless, it was theatre, it was fluid, it was professional. The guest got what they wanted, and I looked like a ringmaster, then Phil the true hero went back to car park patrol. The system worked because we were a team.  Later on I’d join Phil in the car park to pick up the litter after I’d finished talking to millionaires.

So sales is all about confidence, or acting confident and keeping on talking. In a shop you must be engaging and try and entice them in and then get them to buy something. If you haven’t got what they want you offer something else. If they wanted black you offer brown or grey if that’s all you have. You don’t just say no, no and no again. It is fun talking to people and filling you day with laughter, we laughed loads at the hotel, and worked our butts off.

If you hide in the corner and say you are bored and why has the boss given you one month’s notice and why is the next renter measuring up the shop, then you only have yourself to blame. Active and Proactive are nice words, but in sales they are the words you should live by. The thing you are selling the most is not the actual product, the shoes, the clothes, the makeup or whatever, it’s you. If you are nice and people like you, then they will be more likely to buy from you. It’s as simple as that.

Do you like being with grumpy people, or do you like Marie because she is a laugh, or do you like Michael because he is sensitive, or do you hate the sight of Peter. If you can be that nice warm person you enjoy being with, then you will be a good salesperson, you will be a natural. So I’ll leave it there for tonight, the answers are always inside you, just listen to yourself. And then talk to everybody. 

Message to Spammers

Message to Spammers

By michaelgcasey

I’m fed up of idiots putting spam comments/adverts attached to what I write. On my other sites their comments don’t even get read as they have to be approved, and I just delete them    un-approve them

so here’s a comment I added to a spammer on my previous DT, knowing your audience post.  Can the moderator also delete her account, she an American spammer.

Hey, or should I say hello as we are in England. You really don’t know your audience. You are probably a little old lady of 87 with no teeth and plenty of body smell, WE don’t believe your are the girl or the name in the picture. I HOPE THE MODERATOR DELETES YOUR PROFILE, YOUR EVER SO SECRET PROFILE. DT readers earn that kind of money already. Its a newspaper for clever successful people, would you cut and paste your rubbish into the Washington Post? The poorest person is me, just waiting for the Undertaker to get me.Whatever your name is please desist, STOP< CEASE< or just GIVE UP as nobody reads your rubbish. Any comments posted to my sites do NOT get seen as I have a filter,ME and I just delete them UNREAD, and they do not LITTER my site. So go do yourself a favour, and that;s how we spell over here we use OUR not OR, just read a book, or write one, and AMAZE us with your wit and intelligencce. Then maybe one day TROLLS, that what we call people like you over here, maybe a TROLL like you will be as Big as James Bond, and yes that’s my Day Job. I am 007.

Michael Casey 007 ©

By Michael Casey

I had a security pass with 007 on it, so it got me thinking. What if I was in a Bond film. There will be a new film and Daniel Craig will be the man again.

Could I be a baddie? No I couldn’t possible do that, I mean I don’t look like a baddie do I? My girls wouldn ‘t like it either,  daddy couldn’t possible be a baddie, and as for the wife, I was her Panzi after all. Panzi meaning Fat Fat Boy in Chinese.

So what could I be in a James Bond film? I could carry his bags, I did work in a 4star business hotel for 3 years. So I have the practice. I could carry James Bond’s bags up to his room and knock a few things over, or spill things on James Bond and try to wipe him down with a towel, so James Bond pushes me over the balcony into the pool.

Then the next day Bond lounging by the pool, and me/the porter trips over him so Bond throws me in the pool again. Later in the day I knock his Aston Martin with my trolley, so I get thrown in the pool again.

Finally I/the porter annoys him again, so this time he shoots me. And Bond says “I never believed in tipping.”

Now if Lee Evans is not available for the above then I’d do it. Wouldn’t we all love to be in a Bond film, just think how much they could charge for the privilege.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

   

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