Wednesday, October 13, 2004

September 7 (Tuesday): I awaken with a bump this morning. MSN with Sara is really short, really close and really curt. I get the impression she doesn’t appreciate my smart-ass comments and calling her boss Ronald McDonald.

This morning I actually manage to leave for work on time (albeit in a mood) and equally arrive for work on time, being first to arrive at Chernobyl. Emma is back in our office today but now things feel kinda awkward around her.

All in all, today is a complete nightmare/disaster. I arrive at working praying for abduction, either by aliens or kidnappers, I’m not fussy just eager to move/leave.

I get a nod in the right direction when Hays phones me up to ask me how the interview on Friday when. I talk my way through it quite well and cross my fingers.

Today is stressful, it appears everyone wants me to be their runaround. What am I, still a fucking office junior? First of all it is the latest balls up with regards to Acme Careforce, yup that’s a Melchard job. Pressure is applied to me to drive over to Mersea to get a back and/or information that can just as easily be emailed or faxed to the office, in a non-luddite office/environment/world. Sometimes I appear to be working in accountants office straight from Planet Of The Apes.

Lunchtime is lame. I wind up trailing around with Stevo, Stevo who is eager to buy Bob Dylan CDs. The poor bastard is grimacing all hour, he is still in real pain.

I hear some news about work today, apparently Melchard and Randy Pan have bought some of Who's share and Drew reckons this additional vested interest is why Melchard is now acting with an added sore head, derived from additional investment which Drew believes has come from further financing. Personal opinion, the practise is not the best investment, its not going out of business but at the same time I doesn't appear to be going anywhere else.

In the afternoon I become runaround boy part 2. Acmeflight, a client who has appeared to have done nothing but fuck us around as of late, telephones and requests that we return their books. They are based in Norwich and immediately it is decided that I am to drive all the way up there to drop off a box of records and drive back. I'm a fucking accountant not a courier lacky. Unfortunately this all comes off the back of Randy Pan handing me back a job to make weak adjustments on urgently. I know my nose is nowhere as big as his but it is kind of knocked out of joint anyways. The annoying thing here though is that it is Stevo who stitches me up on this one, running whining to the partner when I explain I am a bit busy to be a skivvy. He does that sometimes, especially to me because he knows he can get away with it.

Late afternoon Hays telephones again and I have been asked back to the place (Rose’s) for a second interview on Friday. Yes!

Five o’clock arrives and not before time. The end of today comes as a great relief. When I get in I want to MSN Phoebe but her status is set to “be right back�. I wait for her to “be right back� but instead she signs. Bye bye. Instead I bag up my clothes and head home via Tesco to buy some video tapes where I bump into Danny from football to whom I am accidentally/inadvertently rude. I suck.

At Tesco I use the shitty new self service checkout. Surely this isn’t going to catch on? Its fucking terrible. How lazy are the employees of Tesco going to get? I buy my videocassettes and the change shoots out like change at Clacton amusements. I can’t find however where my note change has come out and this little prick kid shouts at me “you’ve left your fiver behind mister� and his fat fucking oath bovine mother goes “I’ll have it if you don’t want/need it�. And people why wifebeating is on the rise? In the words of Sam Kinison “I don’t condone it but I understand it�.

The race home is a breeze but arrival at home is hard. Here’s the latest: Dad is going to work tomorrow. What the fuck? If Dad starts up work again full time at Sextons it is going to kill him. It seems he never actually expect to go back to work with Sextons, seems mum has thrown out all his work clothes, his hard hat, his boots, his lunchbox etc.

Mum then tells me that she has put a scratch in their brand new car. Bloody hell, its just one thing after another with our family, I don’t think they’ve even had that car a month yet! And she is being sneaky, not telling dad, not trying to give him a heartattack which is surely coming.

I escape into escapism. On Sky is GAEA wrestling on The Wrestling Channel which is Japanese women wrestling. I am so smit.

I actually fall asleep before the beginning of The Sopranos, which ultimately kind of defeats the purpose of coming all the way over to watch it (and put it on video), tonight’s episode being the fifth of the series.

I drive home, a late one, listening to Mark Radcliffe who has that crap crackpot Julian Cope on his show. It is a true pleasure to be listening to Radcliffe once more in the late night slot, it just means something to me, the ability to lazily slip back into reminiscing about a time supposedly so good for me (when it actually wasn’t).

When I get in, B is online and has tried to get in touch on MSN. I check-in and we labour on MSN until one in the morning, myself also writing in the process.

np: Led Zeppelin - Immigrant Song


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