Author: Mosh

“I can’t come into work. I’m sick”

“How sick are you?”

“I just ****** my 5 year-old sister.”

“That’s pretty sick.”

Office fun

Ring your desk phone and record the ringing. Set this as the ringtone on your mobile, and make sure it never goes to voicemail.

Leave your mobile on your desk and ring it from somewhere else. Watch your colleagues going mad trying the “pick up other call” option on their phones.

Did you know if you’re writing a shopping list and you write “loo roll” and your pen’s not working so you scribble up and down on the first “l” until it works only you end up with it being a bit wonky and looped it looks like “poo roll” which is rather apt?

Yeah. One of those days.

A thrill a minute

Today I have mostly been copying files from one server to another over a ropey connection. Who needs TV when you have the “little blue bar”? GASP as it moves one more pixel to the right after 5 minutes, HOLD YOUR BREATH as it seems to have stopped, GROAN as the connection drops and you’re back to square one.

It’s almost, but not quite, on a par with watching your washing go round in the machine. It just lacks that “is it just the light, or have I put a red sock in with the white wash?” thrill.

Urk

It really makes you realise why we’re all obese when you start looking into things. I spend about 30 mins on an exercise bike over lunch. I have just noticed that the calories I burn off are about the same as those in the 200g low-fat yoghurt I just ate. To burn off all the crap I eat, I’d need to stay in the gym from 8:00 to 4:30, and go to work over lunchtime.

What a ******* surprise

After finally getting the PO to promise to redeliver that package today… no post. At all. Sarah sat in until midday, went out to the shops, came back and nothing.

As I need the contents of the package before next Tuesday at the absolute latest, and I’m away for the weekend, this basically means I have to get up at 6:45 tomorrow to drive into the middle of Bradford and shout at some useless **** until they cry.

I’d write a letter of complaint, but I’d probably get the same form letter back that I received last time. Assuming my complaint letter actually gets delivered.

The ******* useless ******* *******. I really can’t get over in words how PISSED OFF I am right now.

If I turn green and start shouting *HULK SMASH*, please don’t get in my way and start ******* off about copyright infringement. I’ll rip you limb from limb and feed you to the nearest postman.

An 11 year old has been banned from driving for a year… despite not legally being allowed to drive anyway. I mean, that’s like banning a 5 year-old from brothels for a year. Or saying that George W Bush isn’t allowed to sit MENSA exams. It’s more pointless than a box of snapped pencils.

To make it worse, the court “imposed three penalty points for driving without a licence and six penalty points for driving without insurance”. Now, this is a little paradoxical. He’s been given penalty points for not having a license. These penalty points go onto his license. Which he doesn’t have. Which is why he’s getting points on it. More paradoxes than 10 series of Dr Who.

Can’t we just break his legs so he can’t reach the pedals?

Royal Mail in “are ****” (again) shocker

OK, on the 23rd, someone attempted to deliver a package. Now, several points. The little card says they tried to do this at 10:30. This is ****, as Sarah was in then. Secondly, they’ve ticket the box that says “too big for your letterbox”. This is also ****, as I know what I’m waiting for. It’ll be in three small Jiffy bags, each of which will fit easily through the door.

What we’re dealing with here is a postperson who can’t tell the time and hasn’t figured out how those awkward rubber bands that hold things together work.

So I call the number on the card to arrange redelivery as Sarah’s going to be in one day this week. It rings… and I get the standard BT message that “your call cannot be taken at this time”. Bugger. So I ring back, and it’s engaged.

A-ha! Someone’s on the phone! So I keep hitting redial until it rings again. And rings. And rings. And BT message.

So I’ve left a voicemail. It’s currently 8:30am and the sorting office is open until midday (hence why I can’t collect the packages from them but we’ve been through this ages ago if you go digging through the archives). What are the odds I’ll actually get a call back before they shut? And, more to the point, even if they do who reckons they’ll actually redeliver on the day I ask them to? Because, funnily enough, I have no ******* faith in them at all.

I’ve also just noticed the little tagline on the note from them: “with us it’s personal^TM“. Well, that half-sounds rather Mafia-esque and scary. And half-sounds like a laughable lie given I’m getting a generic BT answering service…

It must be great running a monopoly. You can be as utterly *****-awful as you want with no worries or repurcussions.

Update: I kept trying to ring them and finally got through at 11:53. Seven minutes before they close for the day. I’ve asked to have the package redelivered on Thursday. I fully expect to have a little card through the door tomorrow saying they couldn’t deliver it.

Silly girl

Just swapped a few texts with Louise. She’s heading to London for a couple of days (first class on the train, natch) and some guy was chatting her up. Or in her words, “I’m trying to read my book and this guy won’t stop talking to me”. So he wasn’t exactly off to a flying start.

Then it was, “Now the sob story about his breakup with his girlfriend. Which means he doesn’t like blondes, prefers brunette. Surprise!”

It got better, “I told him I’m a nurse. Now he’s going on about all his little sports injuries. He says he has a big scar on his lower back and he’ll show me it if I go into the toilet with him!”

Classy.

As they neared London, “He’s gearing up to ask me out. I can tell.”

Finally, “Bingo – he’s asked if I want to have dinner at his posh hotel tonight. I told him I didn’t think my boyfriend would be too happy. He looks crushed! Aw, bless!” Two hours of his time wasted (well, he wouldn’t shut up despite her hints) only to get blown out of the water. And yet she’s still sympathetic about it. You wonder why she’s such a good nurse?

The thing is, this makes no fewer than four people who’ve asked her out in the last three weeks. The others were a patient’s relative and two new doctors. Plus all the retards groping her in a nightclub recently.

And yet… she chose me.

Silly moo. Joke’s on her, then!