Delhi dumping, nostril digging, and suiting up.

Found myself on a bit of a downer over the past week or so, usual angsty bollocks that I try to fend off as best I can but still gets through and shows itself mostly as boredom and an inability to make my mind up about what I want to do from one minute to the next. Suppose it could be down to me coming from a week of late shifts straight onto a week of the early shifts, maybe my body clock hasn’t had time to adjust or some shit like that.  I think I’m just a bit more sensitive to people who call up their ISP at 8am to complain about something, and by sensitive I mean immediately angry at. For the past week or so the company website has been playing funny buggers, and a fair few people haven’t been able to get into their email, but there’s a neat little way to get into them by manually typing in the URL for the web mail and logging in that way, sorted. But that’s not good enough for some people, they want “compensation.” Not even for not being able to access it, but because they’ll have to go in a different route that seemingly throws them three miles out of their comfort zone, and all that really changed was four letters at the beginning of a URL and not having to look at adverts. I’d have more respect for them if they were just honest greedy bastards, but some of them seem to think they’re so fucking fragile the slightest inconvenience needs a monetary reward as a sorry for something they’re provided for fucking free.

Aside from that, the phone routing system was fucked as well, so the little experiment in only dealing with customers in the first few months of a contract has come to an abrupt halt for the time being and I was chucked back into “Gen Pop” to deal with regular calls. Intelligence levels of every caller plummeted, the sense of entitlement skyrocketed, and I’ve had to spend half my time telling people that no, I don’t give a pair of spunk-slicked hoor’s knickers if the man from India gave you a tenner credit to get you off the phone, you’ll be getting fuck all from me. To the man with “Wank” in his name: you are by name as you are by nature, ya cunt. And finally to the councillor from Wigan: only I’m allowed to slag the Indians, because they’re my brothers from other mothers in regards to this job, so I took offense at your request to be transferred to a British person, and made sure that you were deep into Delhi before I transferred you over.

Friday saw me in the pub that is quickly becoming the work regular. Along with one of the higher-ups (my open loathing of the public seemingly no barrier to networking) I found myself getting a headstart on the drinking, deciding to continue with my philosophy of a slow, steady descent in drunkenness then fucking off home when I had just enough money to pay for a taxi and wasn’t in any immediate danger of sobering up before I passed out in bed. I learned a few things that night, like I’m perfectly willing to steal the decorative hardback books in a pub just in the off-chance that the world’s greatest story is somehow hidden inside. I also learned that my attention span is not good enough to follow through with this idea after I’ve necked a day’s wage in cider. Also that for all the slut I am, it doesn’t matter how big a girl’s tits are when she picks her nose with her thumb in public.

The weekend proper seen me trying to find time to fill given that I couldn’t muster the motivation to go to the gym, or get myself in the right flavour of bad mood that makes me think “What’s the point in not going?” So I’ve found myself with a dozen books ordered from Amazon with a half-dozen more still en route, and a couple of Judge Dredd comics, one medium I’ve never taken an interest in. Tying that all up were episodes of Doctor Who that I’d never seen since they’d been aired seven years ago, both moderately enjoyable and triggering me to think what I was doing back then. I also bought a suit for my cousin’s wedding, my first proper suit, which will hopefully never be worn outside of weddings, funerals, and job interviews. Curious how closely related they are.

Today I’ve just worked, tomorrow I shall work some more, and I might just come on here and moan about the people I talk to. Who knows, play your cards right and it might just be you one day!