I’ve certainly moaned a lot here, haven’t I? I hope I don’t give the wrong impression.

I don’t think I’m a terribly negative person in real life. It’s just that I’ve tended to use this blog as a place to get stuff off my chest every once in a while. That’s why this thing is so quiet most of the time. I have nothing to moan about!

So, uh… yeah. Good for me, I guess.

Also I apparently loves me some crap jokes.

^*30 posts made in 3 years so it wasn’t that hard!

Misery 1: I’ve not had a restful night’s sleep since I got back. If it’s not the birds tweeting, it’s the drunken revelers shouting and singing and playing their music too damn loud for 4am. I’ve tried closing the window (but it does get stuffy), I’ve tried earplugs (even though they’re uncomfortable) and I’ve tried both at the same time. None good enough, nor in combination. I have one last weapon in my fight against insomnia. Hypnotics. I’d rather not resort to drugs to help me sleep (for fear of screwing up my sleeping pattern even further), but it’s my last resort.

I promised two miseries, didn’t I?

Misery 2: My toilet has sprung a slow leak.

• One of the two memory modules went caput. Caused mysterious errors in Windows until it bluescreened proper and refused to boot. Even had trouble installing XP again or using a Linux live CD until the problem was narrowed down to the faulty chips.
• Next to go was the power supply. A few days after fixing the memory problem I went to turn my computer on. Immediately after I pressed it I heard a loud pop come from inside my computer and a bad smell too. Unfortunately I was impatient and it was a Saturday afternoon so I had to go to PC World for the parts. I’m not making that mistake again. PSU cost me double what it would online and they had the damn balls to charge me £16 for two kettle leads (that I’d blown by making sure that it was the power supply).
• The latest calamity to befall this hunk o’junk (gotta be careful here; it’s what I’m typing this on) happened to the video card. I noticed that the last few times I’d tried to play any games it would work for a few minutes and then completely crash the system after printing load of corrupted garbage to the screen. I figured it was overheating so I took the side-panel off only to find the video card’s heat sink and fan hanging off. I’ve fixed it back on but unfortunately I think it must’ve got toasted a bit because it now looks like my computer is having a bit of an acid trip.

I’ve not had any problems like this with PCs in years. Why must it all happen at once and why must it be when I’m in such a poor financial state? Well, poorer.

What have I been doing that’s kept me so busy? At first I was trying to make telesales. Really, really trying hard and then failing miserably. I was getting around 0.33 sales per day and the minimum number of sales an agent should be making is around 1-2. I’m awful at making sales and this is because I give up too easily. I find it very difficult to try and convince someone that they need our service when deep down I know that they really don’t. I hope that doesn’t say anything too negative about my attitude towards life.

So where were we? Oh yes; I was doing really badly at telesales. So badly, in fact,that they moved me to another campaign. A campaign with a different objective, one that I could rally to, one that I knew in my heart had a noble and just cause. I was now calling people up and asking them to consider paying by Direct Debit.
As boring as this role was (and it could be terribly dull at times), it was still leagues ahead of normal sales and it even gave me the time to catch up on my reading (I thoroughly recommend Mountains of the Mind by Robert Macfarlane, by the way).

Unfortunately I’m no longer doing this. As of yesterday, our merry bunch of DD Converters was reassigned to the far more ominous sounding Retention Program. The general objective of this program is to make sure that our customers are happy with the service and to answer any queries they might have. I shouldn’t get in to any specifics as it is terribly dull and only really of any use to our competitors. Anyway, a fair proportion of the customers are generally less than happy to be called again (again, for reasons that I won’t go in to) and this makes me sad. This also makes me desperate to stop calling. This look of desperation in my eyes must be quite obvious now because the people I need to talk to about moving out of calls never seem to be around. I think they might be avoiding me. After all, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

Things That I Have Learnt From My Training

Tele2 is an alternate telecoms service provider with a strong emphasis on customer satisfaction, the Deregulation Act of 1998 allowed ATSPs to enter the market and take over customer’s outgoing calls from BT, Tele2′s rates are much better than BT’s and going out on a Monday night is a fucking awful idea.

On Auto-Rickshaw Drivers

Auto-rickshaw drivers are money-grubbing, cheating, filthy, useless cunts. For all I know this guy is about to lead me to the middle of nowhere, kill/rape me (maybe both and not necessarily in that order), take my money and then dump the body. Well, if that’s how it is, then the joke’s on him ‘cos I’m broke and I’ve got diarrhoea.

I’m Not Feeling Very Well

Sore/burn on tongue, two mouth ulcers, gut upset, enough mosquito bites to make a dot-to-dot Sistine Chapel*.

*Now also includes a bad cold

Needless to say this new timescale will take some getting used to.

For lunch I decided to go to KFC. Word of mouth and sumptuous-looking posters meant that I had to try their new Daddy Burger. I ordered the meal without incident and Tristan and I were able to find a seat without too much trouble. The problem came when I opened the burger box. The bun was cold (straight-out-of-the-fridge cold too), but that’s no big deal. No, what I really had a problem with was the cold, slimy, light pink bacon. This just wouldn’t do. I took it back to the counter.
“Hi. This burger you just sold me – the bacon is raw. Look, it’s raw,” I said, pointing to the bacon.
“Is no raw, is bacon”, was the reply I received. Err…
“No, I mean the bacon is raw. It’s not cooked.”
“Oh. OK. I’ll have a look at it.”
She takes it over behind the burger dispenser thing and the three of them gather round and quietly discuss the burger. Then she comes back with a smile on her face.
“Is smoked bacon. We have given you some more”
I just didn’t feel like arguing more. I could be wrong. It could be like Gazpacho soup and I’d look like some uncouth yob demanding my fillet mignon to be cooked extra well-done
“Thank-you,” I said and sat back down with Tristan. I picked the bacon out and ate the burger. It was very nice, though it had no Daddies sauce in it.