Had my first properly awkward call today. A guy had phoned up complaining that his web mail was looking funny and he didn’t like how it appeared now, so my first thought was that his browser had fucked up and it would take two seconds to fix the problem. Having done that, he said the problem was still there. Not knowing what the fuck he was on about I logged remotely into his computer and told him to show me what tragic thing was ruining his day so much. He went into his inbox, where all they had done was change the layout and now not as many emails were shown before you had to scroll down. But what emails they were! I thought at first the guy had taken me into his junk email folder with the amount of mails about Viagra and the like, but then I noticed that peppered throughout them all seemed to be bestiality newsletters and the “nude news.” The worst thing might have been the fact that even after showing this off he still managed to hold such an air of righteous indignation that he wasn’t able to see enough of his porn updates at once, threatening to leave the ISP if they didn’t turn it back just for him. Besides, do people still actually get shit like that sent to them? YouPorn dude, look it up.
Aside from that work hasn’t been particularly eventful. I’ve learned more and more each day, some things that I was told in training but forgot because I had no practical use to remember it, other things are little quirks that everyone just has to pick up as time goes on. My biggest mistake so far has been accidentally crediting an account double what I was supposed to, and only remembering it later on. Didn’t mention it to anyone as it wasn’t exactly in triple figures, and it’ll give me a rough idea of how tightly they are keeping an eye on things if nothing else. If it does come up I’ll shrug it off as the noob making a mistake. I’ve only given two credits so far, so it won’t mean much work for them to see the other one if they do decide to check. Plenty of people have asked for them obviously, but I’ve managed to fob them off and get them to call back in a few weeks. Saves me the hassle of calculating what they’re due and it means they get what they’re owed all at the one time. Everyone’s a winner!
They love their stats in that place as well. They like keeping a track of how much of your break you use, how long you spend on a call, how much “personal time” you decide to take, how long it takes you to type up your notes in between calls… You name it, they’ve got a timer and a percentage rating to measure it. And believe it or not, I’m doing not half badly it seems. There are daily stats and weekly stats which are published showing how everyone is performing against one another. From what I could see I had taken the most calls out of anyone that week, and my handling time is what people on thier third month up on the call floor are meant to be getting. It’s amazing what copy and paste and not wanting to talk to the same person for ages can do. I don’t know what my repeat call level will be yet, but it should be interesting. Now, I’m truly shamed to admit it, but when I saw the stats my first instinct was to take even more calls and do my notes even faster, to get make those stats even better and beat everyone else. Then I remembered that I’m being paid fuck all with no chance of a real reward no matter how hard I try, and it’s not worth busting my balls day in, day out to improve a number on a screen for a company that will sack you in a heartbeat if it’d save them a bit of money. Mildly efficient mediocrity is the aim of the game.
Of course, I’ll have to make sure I do stay in a job for the meantime, as I’ve got a fine to pay off after the police stopped my car. I’d been on a little road trip with Marsha and her boyfriend (don’t ask, it was meant to be a squad of us going but then everyone’s work got in the way, but it wasn’t too awkward I guess) during the day. We’d just dossed around the coast for a while, realised it was January and that we were fucking freezing before coming back home again. I’d only just dropped them off when I was driving back the few miles to my house when a police car in front of me signalled for me to pull over. I thought I may have gotten off with a warning as it was just the rear brake light that was out, but it seems one of the front headlights had went and died as well. Add to the fact that my MOT was overdue by about a month and that was me in the shitter. So I ended up in the back of the police car getting all my details taken, rather enjoying sitting in a car with leather seats and a heater that worked properly. Maximum fine is £1000, was told I can expect one at around £2oo, and a well-known lawyer has just gotten off with the same offence and a £60 fine. Here’s hoping that I’m made to pay what the richest in society get, rather than the plebs. In the next few months I’m going to get a letter in from the magistrates telling me what a naughty boy I’ve been. Cunts. To make matters worse my car predictably failed it’s MOT today, the garage phoning me up and saying it would take £300 to get it in shape. Two tires are fucked, those lights were out, and new brakes are needed along with a handful of other shit. Now I’m starting to think about saving up for a new car, along with all the other shit that I was wanting to do. I’d given myself a two year deadline to make sure I don’t get trapped in that job. It’s £26,000 I’ll earn over that time, and everything seems to be eating into that. God damn. Still, if I save around about three grand, and my uncle is willing to help me spy out another car at cost price from his garage then I could get myself a better one than I had before. Golfs keep their value well too, so that’s a plus when selling it on.
The only reason I waited at all to get the MOT is because I wanted to make sure I could afford to get the car in a fit enough shape to drive for a fairly long distance reliably. Plus I was still on the dole and had no many to get it done. Since I got my first wage in I’d really been wanting to go a proper road trip, right up to John O’Groats.
As far north as you can go before you run out of Scotland.
There’s nothing up there I guess, and at this time of year it’s liable to be ice cold and rainy. In a way that makes it even better I think. Right now my entire plan revolves around getting there. I’d stock up on some essential supplies, a sleeping bag or whatever and just drive up there. Don’t know what I’d do when I arrived, I’d probably sleep in the car, but at least I’d have went somewhere new. Plus the route suggested by google maps (I’ve don’t have a GPS) takes me by the like of Loch Ness and the sort of places that people come from all over the world to visit but those who live here never bother going to see. And the road doesn’t seem particularly complicated either. It’s basically the same named road for a couple of hundred miles until you hit the Highlands proper, by which point you don’t have a great deal of choice in where you can go, as it’s single lane roads for the next few hundred miles after that. The money that’s now going to go on a fine would’ve paid for the entire trip quite comfortably. I’ve learned my lesson though, never drive behind the polis, and if you do, fuck off in the opposite direction at the first possible opportunity.
I had mentioned to Marsha about my little planned excursion, she said it was an awesome idea and that we should all go up one weekend, when in all honesty I didn’t intend it to be taken as a group invitation. I feel quite bad for it but right there and then I realised that it was something I really wanted to do myself without any company. Much as I love her, I know that her and her boyfriend would be the only ones who would go through with it, for everyone else it’d be work, college, or lack of interest that’d stop them from going. And aye there’s the fact that with the two of them I’d be the spare prick, and a larger group would be a much more tolerable prospect. For now though, for the first trip up at least, I want to keep it as a solitary thing.
Now for the traditional end of post message about my mishaps with the fairer sex: First up is that girl that I said it was over with, at the weekend there I kind of slipped and fell naked into her bed for a few hours before I found my way back out. She was a bit calmer sober, but we still had a good time. She told me again that I was the only guy to ever make her come, which is flattering, but after she mentioned before that she never comes from sex I’m not taking it particularly seriously. Am I being overly cynical by thinking a large part of it was just to boost my ego to keep me around? Remember that girl I fooled around with a few months ago, and then her boyfriend started working right next to me? Now she’s in training for the exact same job, so she’ll be hovering around as well. This world is just too fucking small!
I’m going to update more frequently, these monster posts are a pain. A little and often from now on!
A Reminder Of Fatness 
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