Rescue.com

Does somebody out there know how to make an app? Because I have a winner for you.

Imagine you are out on a date. A very bad date. You are sitting at the table, drinking your latte or sipping your wine, wondering desperately how you can get out of there. You can't text a friend without looking obvious, you can't make up an excuse without looking rude, and your bestie isn't due to call to check up on you for at least another twenty minutes and you just don't think you can last that long.

You shift your weight, pressing one button discreetly on your phone. And within a few minutes, a man appears at the door of the restaurant.

"DARLING!" he cries. "I've been looking everywhere for you! I can't bear being without you for a second longer! Please take me back!!!"

"Oh!" you cry. And though you have never seen this man before in your entire life, you run gratefully into his arms.

You look apologetically at your date. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I didn't expect this... I really have to go...."

And with that, the date is over. You have been rescued.

In Rescue.com, users download their photos and first names to the app. When they are going on a first date, they register their location, and colour of outfit for easy spotting. Then, if they activate the 'Rescue Me' icon on the touchscreen, a call goes out to other Rescue.com users in the vicinity. The first to accept the call rushes to the scene and rescues the user. And the user, in turn, responds to Rescue Me calls as required. It is a Pay It Forward service, giving members the satisfaction of helping others in need (with the chance to meet and embrace utter strangers as a handy bonus!).

Of course, respondees don't need to be members of the opposite gender, or even the same gender if the user is on a same-sex date. One might argue that a woman rescuing another woman on a straight date, or a man rescuing a woman on a lesbian date, adds even more drama and finality to the situation.

And it's not just women who will need rescuing. Men have bad dates too, and will no doubt require assistance, and what better way to be rescued than by a single woman?

So here it is. Rescue.com. Go forth, build my app and let's make money. I promise you I shall be the first to sign up.

Not that I have ever felt the need to be rescued... seriously, this idea just came to me out of thin air....

Just Because

Today a PR company sent me a onesie, and it made my day.

Now bear with me, this is not a sponsored post. I'm not going to (yet again) extol the virtues of the onesie. But I am going to extol the virtues of gifts.

Even though the onesie was sent to me by a PR company, and even though I'm sure they did it so I could promote it on social media, it still made me feel special. Because they knew I love onesies and they went to the trouble of tracking me down and sending me one. And it worked. It made me feel super special. And it was a high point in a fairly crapstick day.

They say it is better to give than to receive, but it is pretty bloody awesome to receive. And it is especially nice to receive for no reason. Birthday presents are lovely, but a gift just because is the most meaningful present of all.

This year I have been on the receiving end of gifts, from friends who have known I'm having a rough year. Lana, for example, bought me a gorgeous little dress that she saw me admiring in a shop when we strolled by. It was only $250* but it meant so much to me that she bought it for me, and every time I wear it I think of her and feel good.

Gab the Wonder Babysitter also bought me a present - a little silver bracelet that she found online. This one was about $1100**, and if I didn't love it just because it was so cute, I love it because she gave it to me just because.

I've also received the odd gift (think jars of Nutella and 'Dear Fuckface' stationery***) from online friends who knew I needed a boost. My beautiful friend Kylie sent me flowers for no reason. And my mum buys me endless presents - from $8 Ugg boot rip offs to sparkly tops to slankies and hot water bottles and mugs - and they make me feel so cared for. They make me feel loved. Even the purple slanky. Especially the purple slanky.

Now, my point isn't to rave about how I love receiving gifts, or to solicit for more, because I have enough. My point is to remind myself and you about how happy we can make people with the smallest little gesture.

It's not about the gift, per se. It's not about the money. It's about showing people we love them and appreciate them just because. It's a meal or a chocolate bar or a pair of socks or a hairclip. It's a pen or a book or a tank top or a onesie (sorry, couldn't help it). Or it's a card or an email. It's saying 'I'm thinking of you. You're special to me. I love you. Just because.'

And I'm going to do it more. Because the people around me have been so good to me and I appreciate them. I appreciate you. I truly, truly do.


*okay, $20, it was on the Specials rack
**which is a total lie, I don't pay her that well
***BEST STATIONERY EVER

No Good Deed For Me

At pick-up time at pre-school, three year old Boo tugged on my sleeve. “Mummy,” she said, “I want to have a good deed!”

“You want to do a good deed?” I asked. “Fantastic! What would you like to do?”

“No, Mummy, have a good deed. On the tree!”

She pointed to a stick tree at the back of the room, covered in little paper leaves, each with a couple of lines of handwriting.

“It’s the good deed tree!” she yelled. “I want a good deed on the tree!”

A good deed tree now? Clearly another memo I forgot to read. I frowned and went to check it out.

Joshy was kind to his sister this morning, read one leaf.

 Bella helped to make her bed, read another.

“You write one and you put it on the tree!” Boo told me helpfully. “Then the teacher she reads them!”

I looked more closely. Max, Gemma, Zac, Eden... they all had their leaves on the tree. It seemed that poor little Boo was the only child with no good deed. Clearly, I had failed again. No good deed for Mummy.

“Can you write I make a bed?” Boo asked.

I thought for a minute. “Boo, you haven’t ever made the bed. I don’t think I can write that.”

“Just write it!” she said. I considered it for a moment, but didn’t feel comfortable lying about a good deed. Wasn’t that some sort of sin?

“Why don’t you make the bed?” I asked her. “Then I can write it for the tree!”

Boo shook her head. “I don’t want to make a bed. I just want a good deed!” I sighed.

We said goodbye to the teachers, and trudged outside to the car.

“Why don’t you clean up the Lego at home and I’ll write that on the good deed tree?” I suggested.

“I don’t want to clean up my Lego. Just write it!”

“But darling you have to actually do the good deed, that’s the whole point of the exercise.”

“Mum, I don’t think she really understands you,” ten year old Pinkela piped up from the backseat. She is always the voice of reason. I called on her for help.

“Will you explain the concept of the good deed tree to Boo?”

Pinkela put on her Big Sister face and her most reasonable voice. “Boo, you have to do a Good deed to get a leaf on the tree. What would you like to be your good deed? Would you like to help me make your bed and then we can write that on the tree?”

“NO!” Boo yelled. “I don’t want to make my bed. Just write it on the tree! Do it!”

“Er, Mum?” said Pinkela. “I think she understands.”

All the way home I contemplated the dilemma. Do I write Boo a good deed for doing nothing at all? Or do I withhold the leaf, and allow her to continue as the only child in the pre-school not featured on the tree?

In the end, I compromised. I didn’t lie, but I wasn’t scrupulously honest, either. I gave Boo her leaf, but it had a hopeful tone, and used ‘always’ in the sense of ‘sometimes’. 

Boo always puts her dishes in the sink, I wrote, and I pinned the leaf to the tree.

Boo beamed, I smiled, and we both felt happy. And that was truly a good deed.