Things To Do In The Office When You’re Bored

Yup, another day sat at my desk twiddling my thumbs because I’ve got nothing to do. My job is based on working on site. When I’m not there, I have nothing to do. Yet they still insist I come into the office. Two hour round trip, eight and a half hours at my desk. What’s the point?

Hey ho.

Well, as something to do this afternoon, here’s a list of things to do while sat at your desk with bugger all to do. I’ve tried to make them things you can theoretically get away with. When I reach the stage of playing paintball in the corridor, I’ll let you know.

Update your blog

Check your email

Chat on MSN… for 8 hours

Do coursework

Eat

Yawn

Twiddle thumbs

Doodle

Pick your nose

Eat it

Update the virus scanner 4 times a day

Surf various sites while avoiding all the porn ones you want to go to

Chew gum

Breathe

Try holding your breath for a bit

Sneeze and spoil it

Bang head repeatedly off desk

Play Pantera drum-beats on your belly

Insult the MD in a very loud voice

Make farting noises

Play “toss the soup can” until it lands on the desk with a *THUD*

Contemplate making yourself sick all over the desk so you can leave

A Funny Thing Happened At The Doctor’s…

Genuine story from my boss. A couple of years ago, he was living with his dad when a letter from the doctor’s arrived addressed to “Mr Anderson” (for the same of argument – names changed to protect the innocent).

Obviously with them being father and son, they’re both Mr Anderson. Mr Anderson Senior (72 years of age) opened the letter and read that it was about an appointment. He duly noted the date and went to attend.

He arrived at the clinic, sat down and waited. After a while, a nurse called his name and asked him to go into a particular room to see the doctor. Upon arrival he sat himself down and the doctor started an informal chat.

“Before we go any further, Mr Anderson, we need to ask a few basic questions.”

He nods. Fine.

“First of all… how long have you been considering having the vasectomy?”

Apparently it took them a week to clean the burnt rubber from his plimsoles off the floor.

Speed Cameras… Again

What else in this past week? Oh, yes. Finally got a reply from the police in South Wales along with photographs of “my car” being caught on a speed trap. About 30 miles west of the car park it was sat in at the time the pictures were taken. By what looks like a speed-gun effort in a car parked behind a bridge, from what I can judge. There are no markings on the road, and the angle doesn’t indicate a mounted camera anyway.

Regardless – not me. Same numberplate, coincidentally. Same make of car, and model. Possibly the same colour. The numberplate itself, however, is a different design. The back of the car is also decorated – mine isn’t.

My issue with them this time (yes – an issue. With the speed camera police. Who’d have thought it) is the dating and time limit on the letter. I mail them about 6 weeks ago to say “it isn’t me. Prove it’s me”. Eventually, at their leisure, they get back to me with a letter saying “here are some pictures. According to the law, you’re guilty unless you can prove you’re not. You have 7 days from the date on this letter to send us your details or we’ll drop letters to the court and you’ll get the death sentence”. Well, almost. Apart from the death sentence bit.

The fun bit is the date on the letter – 16th of March. So I have to reply to them by… erm… today. The day I received the letter. Which has a reply address and a URL to a web page that’s under constructions. No telephone number.

You’d almost think they just wanted to prosecute me, give me a criminal record and take my cash. Surely not?

Instead, I dug out the original letter which does have a number on. Rather glad I kept that. Dial the number and you get a 5 minute recorded message which reels off the address twice, constantly telling you that you should mail them with any queries. Right up until the end when another number is read out just the once, very quickly and with a blip in the tape over one of the numbers so you have to guess at it.

So I call that number, to get another recorded message telling me that my call is important, their hours are 9-12 and 2-4 Mon-Fri, and that I’m in a queue of no more then 5 persons per operator. After a further 15 minutes (on my mobile), I finally spoke to a human who – to be fair – was very helpful.

Essentially, I just need to send them a photo of my car. They may or may not send a policeman over to check it out but she reckons it’s pretty likely the “charge” will be dropped and they’ll keep an eye out for the car with my plates on in Wales. Woo-hoo.

I’m still pissed off with the tone of every letter, though. Threatening. Time-limited. Automatic presumption of guilt. If a loans company sent letters like this out, they’d be all over Watchdog every week and hounded out of business. How in hell can we let our own police force, a body for which on the whole I have a great deal of respect, treat us like this? In any other area of the law you’re innocent until proven guilty. Have your car (or one that looks like it) caught on camera and you’re guilty until proven innocent.

I know there are human rights organisations complaining to the European Court to have this overturned and brought in line with all other UK (and European) laws, but why is this necessary? How did this ludicrous reversal in standard legal practice get through in the first place? Is there a possibility that the tens of millions of pounds generated by these cameras each year have something to do with it?

I’ll let you know how it pans out, but basically… Not Guilty, your honour.

Glasgow Again

Been almost a week since the last update. Apologies for that, but I’ve had company. First of all, congratulations to Elly on passing her driving test on the first attempt. And congratulations again on making her first solo drive one of around 350 miles to come down for a visit. Carradale in Scotland to Bradford. Impressive.

Of course, she gets all this way then goes out for a short drive on Monday and almost mows down some kids. Admittedly, they were shoplifters who’d just legged it out of a Co-Op in front of her. Maybe the criticism should be that she missed them. Better luck next time. I’m sure the shop-owner would have had severe memory loss regarding the registration plate of the car that stopped the thieving prat who’d just ripped him off. Possibly mis-judge the make and model as well. Colour-blindness may also be an issue.

As the entry title suggests, I’m in Glasgow once more. Staying with my aunt and uncle and taking far too many pictures of my cute little cousin. My next plan for this blog (or at least the site it sits on) is to add a decent photo gallery. One of these days, time allowing. Seeing as I have a new camera to tinker with (Fuji S5000) it seems like a worthwhile aim. For posterity’s sake, I’ll archive the old Moshville Times pages, but I think the whole site needs a little bit of a facelift.

ARGH! Why?!

I get in to work at 8:00am for a day sat doing nothing. Time much better spent at home catching up on the things I can’t do as I spend half my life in hotels. Of course, despite being an IT company, someone thinks it’s a good idea to have staff with broadband connections and mobiles sat at a desk, using company electricity and toilet paper (not while at the desk. Often).

Anyway. Getting in for 8:00 means I can finish at 16:30 and beat the traffic. I sit all day, twiddle my thumbs, work on the guestmap (below) and 16:00 approaches… then all hell breaks loose. Annoying Useless Woman wants me to fix a barcode scanner that’s not worked all day because she’s too stupid/lazy to read a manual. After 20 minutes and a lot of swearing, I prove there’s nothing I can do because it’s broken. It didn’t need me to figure that one out.

Then I get an email I was promised an hour earlier with details asking me to ring a customer “urgently”. So urgent that the call had originally been taken in the morning and they’d only just now got round to forwarding me the contact information.

To cap it all, Russ then needs to know some details about a report some dozy prat in London wants written for him (at no charge – dream on, jerk). It takes another 15 minutes to explain what an asshole this customer is and how we should be charging him no matter how far he spits his dummy.

Net result – I finish late. I can’t even go in late tomorrow as a protest. Getting in later means spending longer in the traffic. Gah. I think I’ll work over tomorrow and just take Friday afternoon off. Sod ’em. Flexi time can work both ways and I think I may just introduce it into my working style.

On the lighter, side Hans isn’t dead yet and I’ve updated his blog.