Love Is for Losers by Wibke Brueggemann (motivational books for men .TXT) 📕

sleeves, and Kate’s almost forty, and she was wearing a jumper that literally read: “I Heart Cats.”

When he came to collect the plates, Kate was squinting so badly trying to read his name badge that her eyes disappeared, and then she was like: “James, this is my friend Phoebe, Phoebe this is James.” He was like: “Nice to meet you,” and then shook my hand.

He also shook Kate’s hand, and she took it as an invitation to tell him her entire life story: how she manages the thrift shop, how I often come to help out (total lie, FYI), blah blah blah.

When we were leaving, James was like: “See ya, Phoebe, bye, Kate,” and outside Kate was just like: “Gosh! Beautiful people like that serving food is pure gastroporn.”

Gastroporn.

Oh my God.

She clearly fancied him.

Friday, February 16 #ComputerSaysNo

This afternoon I failed the online application test for Boots. What a total joke. Like, an actual joke, because the questions were all like:

A customer walks into the store. Do you:

a)  Welcome them.

b)  Ignore them.

c)  Immediately inundate them with questions and shove the latest No7 wrinkle cream in their face.

I clicked on a, obviously, because I’m not an idiot, and I’m ticking boxes, but guess what? Computer says no, thank you.

And to think that Miriam Patel did her work experience at Boots.

I’m never shopping there again.

It’s half term next week, and Kate was like: “Any plans, Phoebe?”

I told her I’m going to have another go at handing out CVs, because you never know; someone somewhere somehow may have croaked it.

Saturday, February 17 #EffRightOff

Kate’s been discussing my life with Mum, who started an intervention WhatsApp conversation with me at six in the morning.

Mum: Sorry!!!! I know it’s early where you are, but I missed you. (Lie.)

Me: Hi.

Mum: How’s the job hunt going?

Me: Not great.

Mum: How do you feel about that?

Me (thinking: What does it matter how I feel about it?): Sucks.

Mum: I know you feel responsible for what happened with the cat, but it sounds to me like it was an accident, and I’m sure Kate doesn’t expect you to reimburse her for it.

Me: I know.

Mum: I think you should concentrate on school, darling. GCSEs are going to be full-on, and they are rather important. Why don’t you wait and get a summer job instead?

Me: I don’t need to concentrate on school, school’s fine.

Mum: I believe you, I’m just saying, you don’t need to get a job.

Me: Fine.

Mum: How’s Polly?

Me: Still in love.

Mum: Kate says she hasn’t been around at all. That’s not like Polly.

Me: She’s in love with Tristan, so she’s probably at his house.

Mum: Why don’t you ask her to come over for a few days in half term?

Me: Because I don’t want to.

Mum: She’s your best friend, sweetheart.

Me: Was.

Mum: I know it’s hard when relationships change, but make sure you don’t cut her off now. I know what you can be like, Phoebe, and just don’t, okay?!

Me: Okay.

I only said okay because I needed her to go away, because how dare she be all “I know what you’re like” when she’s not even here?

She decided to not spend this time of my life with me.

She decided there were more important things.

She decided that it is acceptable she may be killed on the job, just like Dad, and that I may end up on my own.

And that’s fine, it’s her life, I get it, but don’t WhatsApp me at six in the morning under false pretenses with a load of textbook advice just so you can tick the Mum box and sleep at night.

Today is one of those days I wish that I never have to see her again, because what’s actually the point?

Sunday, February 18 #Mothers

I told Kate to never gossip to Mum behind my back again, and we had this super-weird moment where we just stood in the kitchen looking at each other, and then Kate went all parenty on me and said: “I know you’re not happy, Phoebe, and I thought Amelia should know. She’s your mother.”

I think mothers are overrated. Mine certainly is. She does nothing apart from caring about other people and making me absolutely furious.

Monday, February 19 #HalfTerm

I remembered that Polly did her work experience at Toni & Guy, and all she had to do was sweep up hair and make cups of tea. That’s a job I can imagine myself doing. It’s not like being one of the actual hairdressers, all like: Blah blah blah, and where are you going on holiday this year?

10:41 A.M.

I’ve decided to categorically never like a picture of anyone on social media who poses pretty much in the nude.

I’m happy that Chloe Brenton is #simplyloving her new @MacCosmetics Highlighting Set, but why does she have to have her tits hanging out?

What’s wrong with everyone? Why are they so obsessed with being photographed nearly naked? Because do you really want to attract people into your life who like you purely for the way you look? Because Chloe is actually a nice person.

1:41 P.M.

I can’t believe I’m printing off CVs so I can apply to sweep hair off the floor.

7:45 P.M.

I went into the thrift shop this afternoon on my way back from every hairdressing place in Wimbledon.

When I walked in, Alex and Emma were behind the till, and Kate and an old lady with a massively long white ponytail were standing in front of it, and they were all laughing so hard they were literally dying.

When Kate saw me, she was like: “Oh, Phoebe, perfect timing. Come here, you’ll love this.”

Turned out someone had donated picture frames, but with their pictures still in them. They were all family snapshots, like at Chessington, in front of the Eiffel Tower, by the seaside, but the man’s head had been cut out of all of them and replaced by the head of Mickey Mouse.

The old lady with the ponytail was wiping her eyes, going: “I should threaten Bill to replace his head with that of Harrison Ford if he doesn’t