(no subject)
Jun. 19th, 2005 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
froodleLe sigh.
Another weekend spent answering phones and building the towering inferno of rage and hatred that will one day cause me to explode in a messy and violent manner, hopefully traumatising a dozen people and leading to at least one of them becoming a serial killer. It's good to have a goal.
So many fucktards. I swear, someone had my phone on Moron Divert today; it felt like I ended up with every single mouth-breather with the inability to know their own postcode, contact telephone number or the name of the machine they were calling to report a fault on. The absolute highlight was the guy who informed me that, unless I could get an engineer out to him within the next thirty minutes, he was going to take all the machines he rents from our company out of his pub and leave them in the parking lot. Several key flaws in this plan:
1: Games machines, pool tables and wall-mounted jukeboxes are generally, you know, bolted to heavy, immovable objects such as the floor or walls. Good luck moving them, Bruce Banner.
2: I'm pretty sure your rental contract with us carries some pretty hefty consequences should you deliberatly damage or destroy company property while you're renting from us.
3: And this is a key point - I don't care. Seriously, whether or not you decide to act like the feeble-minded rectal thermometer you in fact are makes no difference to me. Go ahead, smash the machines. I can guarantee I won't be lying awake worrying about those poor drunkards who won't be able to play Ant and Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway when patronising your fine establishment.
On the other hand, since the temperature in Leeds is currently hovering between "swelter" and "obliterate all life", the air-conditioned office is a definate perk. Legionairres disease? Pfftcha, my friends. As long as I am frosty and cold right now, I shall take my chances with horrible lung-foaming death at a later date.
Another weekend spent answering phones and building the towering inferno of rage and hatred that will one day cause me to explode in a messy and violent manner, hopefully traumatising a dozen people and leading to at least one of them becoming a serial killer. It's good to have a goal.
So many fucktards. I swear, someone had my phone on Moron Divert today; it felt like I ended up with every single mouth-breather with the inability to know their own postcode, contact telephone number or the name of the machine they were calling to report a fault on. The absolute highlight was the guy who informed me that, unless I could get an engineer out to him within the next thirty minutes, he was going to take all the machines he rents from our company out of his pub and leave them in the parking lot. Several key flaws in this plan:
1: Games machines, pool tables and wall-mounted jukeboxes are generally, you know, bolted to heavy, immovable objects such as the floor or walls. Good luck moving them, Bruce Banner.
2: I'm pretty sure your rental contract with us carries some pretty hefty consequences should you deliberatly damage or destroy company property while you're renting from us.
3: And this is a key point - I don't care. Seriously, whether or not you decide to act like the feeble-minded rectal thermometer you in fact are makes no difference to me. Go ahead, smash the machines. I can guarantee I won't be lying awake worrying about those poor drunkards who won't be able to play Ant and Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway when patronising your fine establishment.
On the other hand, since the temperature in Leeds is currently hovering between "swelter" and "obliterate all life", the air-conditioned office is a definate perk. Legionairres disease? Pfftcha, my friends. As long as I am frosty and cold right now, I shall take my chances with horrible lung-foaming death at a later date.
