Thursday, November 06, 2008

OCD's and Written Warnings

All this Obama excitement has prevented me from sleeping, or rather the excitement hasn't, but the endless late-nights searching for clips of speeches on youtube has.

And it doesn't help that I'm developing some strange kind of OCD trying to locate artwork for every piece of music on my new iPod. I've been at it for nearly a week and have managed to get about 900 pictures thus far. I've over 200 left to get.

It's ridiculous. It changes nothing about my life, where smoking with a vengeance has made dieting and cycling slightly boring to continue with, where my heart is tingling worryingly and making it harder for me to commute through traffic at speed.
Receipts are building up on my desk.
My very detailed Excel weight loss spreadsheet is going unfilled.
I can't be arsed anymore.

Consequently, I have tubed it in to work more times than I've cycled this week, listening to music and reading John Kennedy Toole's Confederacy of Dunces on the recommendation of a friend, which has left me devastated as it turns out it's about a 30-something loser living with his mother, exactly the same as my work of drivel.

And of course it's superb; far better written, more tightly plotted, and vastly more interesting.

So discovering that has been fun.

And at work today, my boss confronted me. I knew trouble was looming when I heard him on the phone;
'Yes... yes... I'm sorry.... He's not had much sleep... I'm sure he didn't mean it.'

Turns out the easily-offended person on the other end was easily offended by my earlier conversation. I had answered the phone (in monotone), sighed (frequently), and was insulting to boot. But then they failed to appreciate that the phone never stops ringing in our office, and it always rings when I am in the middle of something important, which is all the time.

Her offence was to ask for cakeboxes, of which we do around twenty.
'What size would you like?' I was forced to ask as I stared forlornly at my monitor and the work I now had to stop concentrating on.
'One big enough for our small cakes, and one a bit bigger to fit a couple of muffins.'

It was at this point that I grimaced. I have no idea how big one of their small cakes are, and that goes double for their fucking muffins. I wasn't in the mood for this. What I really wanted to say was, 'How am I supposed to know what size your cakes are?'

So I did.

Apparently, that's extremely rude.

I've been pretty bad lately. I've been making Basil Fawlty look like he's won a customer care award. I watch Curb Your Enthusiasm and see Larry David getting angry, and it's like watching a documentary about me, albeit with more money and talent. And balder.

Last week, I actually threw a customer out. Admittedly he was blind drunk (this was about 10am) and swore and refused to leave. I fucking loved it, opening the door and yelling, 'Right, OUT!'

A few days earlier, another customer slammed the phone down on me. Again, in my defence, I had a mouthful of food. I like to answer the phone when having my lunch with a mouthful of food, because it sends out the message, 'Hey! Listen to me. I've got a mouthful of food. That's because I'm having my lunch and for the last three years I only get 10 minutes every day to eat the fucker. That's my lunchbreak, and you're ruining it. Now what do you want?'

For some reason, answering with the muffled phrase, 'I'm sorry, I'm having my lunch' was enough to inspire a full-on phone slamming.

Earlier today, a customer walked in and asked for boxes. I had to drop everything.
'Sorry,' I said brusquely, 'We're sold out.'
'Really?' he said.
He didn't leave.
'Yes,' I sighed.
He still didn't leave.
'You don't have any?'
'I just need one,' he added, as if his small requirement would make them magically appear.
'But we don't have any!' I yelled. 'I can't sell you any because there are none left to sell.' I tried smiling the last few words out, if only to soften my tone of murderous intent.
Then he left.

And thus, my boss decided to give me a written warning. I am, apparently, aggressive. Recently, he informed me, I'd inspired him to call his wife when I'd left the office, so he could inform his beloved that I'm 'doing his bloody head in.'

I replied that being a salesman is not one of my strengths, because I hate the general public.

All things considered, he was very nice about the whole affair.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, my mate Jimmy is holidaying in the States. Apparently, while I was lying catatonic in fitful slumber and ill prepared to answer the world's dumbest questions later that morning, he'd been stood in Chicago's Grant Park watching history being made.


It is nearly 10 o'clock, and I'm shattered. Time to find a few more album covers on Google images, methinks...


Huw said...

I recently swapped roles at work, so I now have to answer the phone to 'people'. A recent exchange.

"I want to speak to the man I spoke to before!"
"Sure, do you know his name?"
"Did you write it down?"
"Well, I'm sorry but..."
"This is disgraceful, I need to complain and you won't put me through to the man I spoke to!"
"Well, there are over 1200 men that work for us. If you didn't take their name, it's hard - but admittedly not impossible - that I can put you through to them."

Z said...

They're fools. Complete idiots. What else could you say to them?

Day Dreamer said...

Love that you said that bit about the cake sizes.

I don't work with the general public. I'm sure it's because I don't like many people either.

A written warning isn't that bad. Having to be written up while your lucky friend is in Chicago hugging complete strangers is sortof shitty tho.

What a fucking relief he's won.

daisyfae said...

fuck it. "aggressive" may get you barked at in the office? but it's more likely to get you laid. Every girl's crazy about a confident man... Priorities, dear.

Girl Friday said...

Don't forget the hot wife. The other thing Larry David has in CYE that you don't. Watch Entourage. You'll laugh without feeling bad about yourself. They all live together and tok up everyday.

Anonymous said...

Sorry mate,

I was hoping 'Confedaracy of Dunces' would inspire rather than depress you.

Shit, mate, get some bloody sleep - fuck the iPod. I'm currently off work with a shit case of flu. On Wednesday night I was wrapped up in about twenty layers under my duvet alternately shivering and sweating. I'm already planning the holiday for next year. Inter-rail - the way forward. You game?


Clarissa said...

hopefully your mother doesn't find your script in your drawer.

Dom said...

If you're going to have OCD about your digital music you may as well do it properly. CDDB has inconsistant formats for compilation, puts things in the wrong genre, doesn't always include album year, generally doesn't fill in details about who wrote the track and never includes any notes on the track that may be included in the CD sleve so that needs to be sorted when you're sorting out the album artwork. Then you want to rate every track and then, and this takes forever, sort out entering lyrics for all of them. Once you've embarked down that road then you can claim OCD. I've got about 5% of my collection done, although artwork and ratings have been sorted for everything :)

Tim Clague said...


You know iTunes finds all the artwork for you don't you!

Tim Clague said...

cos it does

i am not your freud said...

sounds like the "burn out syndrome". here's what i suggest:

-try and get more sleep
-make sure you do something fun at the weekend(s)
-learn a few relaxation technics, like taking deep breaths
-find a way to exercise your anger without causing trouble
-don't kill anyone

and yes i-tunes finds the album covers for you. what are they good for anyway?


chopperbomb said...

I've already told him that, Timbo!

fwengebola said...

Huw ~ Oh god, that's a daily occurence for us. I can never resist the temptation to be surly and sarcastic. Not that it's a temptation though; more a natural state of being.
Z ~ Sadly not much, what with them being customers and all.
DD ~ Relief? It's stunning. Like being given a written warning, but better.
Df ~ Being grumpy and surly is attractive? It's never worked for me in the past.
GF ~ Oh yes, the hot wife. Thanks. I can't see how watching a bunch of braying, privileged fucktards will help, though.
Anon ~ Don't worry, COD is beginning to re-inspire me. Sorry about your cold. And how can you plan next year's hols? Won't your bird get mad?
Clar ~ If she did, that would only be because I killed myself first.
Dom ~ Jesus! I had considered doing a fully detailed account of every iTunes song I have, but thankfully I have too many rarities, white labels and anonymous rave stuff and session tapes for it to be worthwhile.
TC ~ Hello Topcat. Yes, I know it does, but then it didn't work for me, perhaps because all my songs have been nicked from t'internet.
E ~ I do try and get more sleep, but I guess it's quality, not quantity as I'm still tired the next day. I would do something fun at the weekend, but I'd be doing it alone. I tried to meditate once, but I got bored and fidgety. True story. And I cannot promise I won't kill anyone.
CB ~ And I've already told you it didn't work for me! Besides, I wanted to make some of the song artwork more original than just the album covers - where applicable. Now I have some very individual pictures and ironic nods regarding each and every sonzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Huw ~

luna said...

Your boss is bonkers.Not even the lowliest Latvian immigrant would do that job for him.He's just a big bully.Order yourself a bag big enough to put him in asap.

P.S. Don't hang up on yourself though

fwengebola said...

Oh he's fine. He just has to put up with my frequent sulks.