Thursday, July 22, 2004
Work today was interesting. Howard finally cracked, getting so angry he wouldn't let me talk to him or even do the shoulder thing. I was considering Molotov Cocktails... I mean, we take down customers' addresses on a daily basis, what's stopping us dropping round to cause a little damage to the more annoying ones? Wouldn't that be fun! Burn messages in their lawns: "Don't fuck with Post". As time goes on I'm giving less and less of a shit about Post and customers. My colleagues rock (Dom r0x0rz my s0x0rz, I've wanted to use that phrase here for ages), but the job sucks arse. No "thanks" it can only be "thank you" and no "bye byes" it must be "goodbye"! It is a perfect example of how anal it all is. My quality score is probably fairly good this month, but only out of some fluke. It sure isn't because I care. Today seemed to be full of fuckwitted customers. The really really dumb ones. It happens every now and then, I think it's some kind of mass escape attempt, but their captors generally have them under control within a day or two. Who'd have thought it... the real purpose and aim of a stupid person's life is to ring up call centres and make life hell for the average CSR until their captors subdue them.