At the glorious age of 14, I started smoking. Not because smoking seemed an attractive nor intelligent thing to-do, but because it would draw attention to myself which, in retrospect, didn’t make me at all as cool as I was hoping.
After nearly a week of temperamental phone systems at work, collectively us and the phone people have decided its our internal techie IT shit box that situates it’s insignificant self in the corner of the office. We are an “outbound sales team and fucking need phones”. Although the phone stats usually say otherwise…
So, it’s Wednesday morning, about 9:30am, and the phone man is in the office.
He was supposed to come tomorrow morning, but due to my boss kicking up some sort of chronic shit storm about “losing money” and “we pay for a service we aren’t getting”, he’s had to come today. Which doesn’t seem at all unreasonable, it’s his job after all, but he’s had to drive through rush hour traffic from Brighton to Leatherhead on a day he wasn’t planning on working. He’s fucked off, and is what I can only describe as a human wardrobe. Probably bench presses small towns in his downtime and eats entire herds of livestock for dinner.
I gave him a tea to calm him down. Hopefully that will work.