Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Comfortably Numb

I think that's a suitable title, and it has nothing to do with smoking yourself into a mindless stupor listening to pretentious 70s soft-rock icons.

Ever felt like you should be feeling something inside, but you don't? You're not happy, but you're not sad either. Nor are you pensive, thoughtful, introspective or confused.

You're just Comfortably Numb.

Comfortable:

1> I panicked a little on Sunday night. My boss was about to leave for a two-week sojourn to the other side of the earth, leaving me to run his company in his absence. In this fractured state, I found myself looking for Positivity podcasts on iTunes.

When I found them, I scoffed at the suggestion that I am a "miracle", or that dwelling on the past and worrying about the future is completely pointless. Nor was I bothered about the very obvious advice that I should act on things that are important to me.

Nonetheless, I went to bed actually excited about the fortnight ahead. It worked so well that I even considered, that Monday at work as the office caught fire and a portal to hell appeared in the toilet, that I was now too positive to ever write another bitter blogpost again.

It didn't last.

2> On Saturday, I began my brilliant scheme to Buy New Clothes by complete accident, totally forgetting that my mate, the future groom, wanted to traverse with his Best Man the finest emporiums in town for wedding suits.

In doing so, I discovered a world I'd long since ignored; that of the Gentleman's outfitter. I'd lost count of the number of whistles we'd tried on, of the shirts and ties I'd admired, of the sense that I could buy a fucking expensive Ted Baker and lord it around London like a gadabout fop pretending to be rich.

All I bought were moderately sexy new jeans. I threw out my old ones. It's a start.

Cold changing-room lighting however, the one that shines down on you and reveals gorges of flab you hadn't spotted before, was none too helpful on the old ego.

I also discovered that Selfridges, and John Lewis - all the stores, actually - don't take kindly to the phrase, "Can I have a discount?"

I'm skint. Haven't they heard of the fucking recession?

3> I'm off to my third Beer Festival in Brighton this weekend. I intend to see my friend Monkey Dave, and get drunk. It will be a little oasis of relative calm amid the turbulence of work hell.

Numb:

1> In the three days since my boss has been gone, I have traversed Positive and Up For The Challenge, to common-or-garden stressed. I have even made my upper lip swell up by absent-mindedly sucking on it harder than a newborn on a nipple.

It isn't easy getting on with the day-to-day when my colleagues, or the phone, or a motherfucking customer decides to interrupt me. I'm afraid I lost it so badly that I actually yelled at one of the staff for sitting behind me motionless and in silence, his eyes drilling into the back of my head like, erm, a drill.

And as karma would have it, I got yelled back in return by cuntstomers; One who is totally incapable of RELAYING TO US OUR FUCKING PRODUCT CODES WHEN ORDERING, and who then considers it our fault when she receives something sort of like what she wanted but not quite.

The second chewed my ear off because they haven't paid us since December, and this is somehow my fault that we've not delivered to them. I tried to explain to the loud, pompous fuck at the other end of the telephone that if someone bothered to reply to my emails and at least talk to me, they might stand a chance of a compromise being reached but Nooooooooo, he could not countenance being even slightly in the wrong, and he will merely take his (admittedly lucrative) business elsewhere.

But it ain't lucrative if we're working for free.

This may come as a shock to my three readers, but I'm too stubborn for business because I refuse to grab the Money Cock with both hands and suck, lick, rub, tweak, tug, slurp and cajole that motherfucker to spout wads of notes from its cold ATM bellend. If I've learnt anything from my accidental four years at work, it's that you have to bend over backwards, be nice when getting yelled at, and accept that you can spend days quoting for dozens of people only to be ignored no matter how many times you chase.

It's enough to make a man cry, if I actually had tear-ducts or was raised in California.

2> On top of that, I am hastily trying to arranging another Stag for next month. I am putting more effort into it than last year's Stag in Barcelona, when I ordered the pre-requisite branded Stag shirts, booked the flights and accommodation, and hoped that everyone would just get on with it over the weekend. Instead I got mostly yelled at by the attendees, lost my mobile phone, and had my balls felt by a transvestite who tried to steal my wallet. (I'll never get tired of that story.)

All I can say is it would be a damn sight easier if these attendees actually put in about a-hundredth of the effort I'm expending, and fucking paid me now that I'm close to finalising everything.

3> I'm not writing my book. I'm too tired and I don't have the time. I have to stay late at work til CHRIST!-o'clock.

4> I spotted Tubegirl eating lunch outside our work-neighbouring pub a few days ago. There's something about the sight of a woman you fancy forcing an elongated chip into her gob that takes the sheen off her somehow. That, and the fact that she didn't seem to care that I saw her do it.
Women are a cold breed.

5> I've been emailing my ex-girlfriend in America. She hates me now. Clearly one of her last comments to me in person: "Remember, I still love you," came with a Best Before date.

I should probably leave her alone.

6> I am cycling and swimming every day, if only to fit into a beautiful Ted Baker suit in two months time, and it's KILLING ME. I should probably stop smoking, but who do you think I am? Barack Obama?? I am on a diet too, but I'm bored with it all and my flat still stinks of fish two days after cooking the fucker.

In Summary: Yawn.

18 comments:

looby said...

I wonder if once you've got these new togs whether you could approach Tubegirl in some way. It's so unlikely that in a city the size of London you'd actually end up working near her that I think you ought to take advantage of the fact that she is near you occasionally. And don't worry about the chips. She probably doesn't imagine you wanking into a sock either :)

Z said...

Well put, Looby.

Your customers don't understand the codes or simply won't look them up. Look at your ordering system in a new way. If I wanted to order boxes, I'd do it on the internet. That they ring you means that either they can't do it online or that they prefer using the phone. Either way, they won't have their last order in front of them, so how are they to know the meaningless set of digits and letters you require? Either work out a simple way of accessing their usual order so that you can describe it to them, or stop expecting them to know what they want. It's all in the expectation, if you accept it's reasonable for them not to know you won't mind that they don't.

Trixie said...

Third reader here...got nothin to say...but thought I'd just better let you know I'm reading. More than what you do ya twat now you use google reader! ;-p

Jake O'Leary said...

Looby - how many people do you know that met their boy/girlfriend after a cold come-on in harsh, sober cold daylight?

Me neither.

Give tube girl the cold shoulder.

McTodd said...

Jean-Paul Sartre, or some other pretentious gaulois sucking, four-eyed French tit, said one good and useful thing: "Hell is other people."

He must have worked in a shop...

The Unbearable Banishment said...

What’s better than a beer festival? THREE beer festivals! And it’s not even October yet!

Can we get a pic of you in Ted Baker?

McTodd: For further literary truths about humanity, pick up any Bukowski book.

Lush said...

Good call on the Ted Baker suit, they're lovely.

Something I've done countless times out of stupidity more than anything else, but that does indeed kill three figurative birds with one massively unhealthy figurative stone: spend all of your hard-earned money on clothing, leaving yourself too broke to buy cigarettes and food. Not that I'm recommending this or anything...there are plenty of other ways to become a skinny non-smoker surely, and much less life-destroying ones at that.

heybartender said...

First, your "Office caught fire and a portal to hell opened in the toilet" remark made me laugh out loud and I actually snorted. And I have had a completely shite week, so thanks for that.
Second, I am not a big girl, but dressing room mirrors often horrify me. Nobody looks like that in real life. NOBODY.
Also, you're trusted with the Stag shindig and the office? You can't possibly be the loser you think you are.
Last, and most important, Leave Your Ex Alone. No good will come of that. Seriously.
xo

looby said...

@Jake
I wasn't thinking of a "cold come-on" but you know, it seems a waste of having someone so near on a regular basis and never making some sort of friendly, chatty approach to her one day. Easier said than done, I know!

Anonymous said...

Your lack of updates is disturbing

Paperbag Princess said...

Mr um..'Bola, you've been uncharacteristically quiet on the blog front. Rectify please and thank you!

daisyfae said...

Hellooooooo? Anybody ho-oooooome?

McTodd said...

................*

Tumbleweed...

Han said...

I'm getting worried!

Anonymous said...

Take it from me, he's fine. He just can't think of anything to make up and/or elaborate on at the moment!

fwengebola said...

Loob ~ Actually, I think that if given the suggestion, plently of women would say that I have the face of a man who wanks into a sock.
And ironically, I've not seen tubegirl since. Methinks the recession has punched her in the face.
Z ~ The way to look up their codes is to go to their customer records and open up every invoice, traversing each and every line for the item in question, something I inevitably have to do after dropping what I'm doing - normally on the same program.
Seems harmless, but it provokes in me the urge to kill, or at least maim.
Trix ~ Yay! And, Oh. I haven't used that for a looong time, and now there's a probable frightening amount of posts to catch up on. But I will. One day.
JO'L ~ Yeah, exactly. It's a non-starter. I'm kicking that bitch to the kerb.
Oh god, now I feel awful
McT ~ I can't think of any other pretentious gaulois sucking, four-eyed French tits. Oh wait, yes I can. All the ones with glasses. If hell is other people, and hell is working in a shop, am I the antichrist?
UB ~ Is that Charles Bukowski? Ah, I'm guessing. I could take pictures of me in a Ted, but you can achieve the same look of style mingled with shit buy viewing pictures of Faberge eggs getting sat on by the clinically obese.
Lush ~ Oh hello. I oft wonder that desiring to stop eating crap and chainsmoking so that your life can start is actually what your life is all aboot.
Well it's mine, at any rate.
Ugh, the human condition. Load of bollocks.
HB ~ I am always pleased when my misery inspires a guffaw or a snort. Thank you. And thanks for the dressing room/ ex-bird advice. It's not as if I can emigrate. Pfft. Fucking different geographical areas. And harsh lighting.
Looby ~ I'm not getting involved.
Anon ~ What can I say? I was being indifferent.
PP ~ Yes, I know. I've written a new post.
df ~ Sorry, sorry, sorry. New post uploaded. Or something.
McTodd ~ *gunfight*
Han ~ Don't.
Anon ~ And you are...?

luna said...

And me who fancied you'd stopped posting coz I'd stopped commenting.
Pah!Disappointing.

fwengebola said...

Yes, that was the reason.