In the hope that it might alleviate the boredom of sitting and waiting for formatting to do (what could possibly be more exciting) I thought I'd write another post. No idea what I want to say yet. Sure something will come out. Luckily no-one is reading so it really doesn't matter what I write! I hope so... this boredom is infectious. It's like a pulsating, glutinous dirty wound of boredom, sure to permeate every orifice of the unsuspecting reader. Or something.
Just called Derek the handyman. We need him to dump some stuff for us tomorrow afternoon as we're having a new conference table delivered to replace the old conference table we currently have which is not appropriate for the type of mood we are trying to create in our conference area and which we are going to move into the kitchen area as it is appropriate for the type of atmosphere we are trying to create in our kitchen area. There is also fruit there. It's a fruity kind of place see. We also have biscuits. Biscuits galore. Biscuits of every shape, size and flavour available in the Tesco's Value range.
My boss is on the other line talking to a person who is trying to sell her something to do with phones. I did some telemarketing once. I lasted three hours before I quit, a quivering, broken, wrecked, ravaged, drunken mess of a shadow of the person I used to be. I'd had all the training, I knew exactly what you're meant to say. But having worked in offices I know just how ENRAGING it is to have a telemarketer on the other end of the line. I did two hours one afternoon, went out that night and got absolutely bladdered because I knew I was going to have to do more the next day. So that night I felt sick because I didn't want to do it again in the morning and also because quite frankly I'd drunk litres of vodka. Got up, did another hour and quit quit quit. Yes that's right, I'm a quitter. I think it's ok to be a quitter at certain points in your life. Like quitting telemarketing. Or quitting smoking. Life's too short to spend any longer than three hours sobbing because a secretary was rude to you. and I'm afraid I reached my time limit. And there was no cyrstal to be had. 'Twas not the job for me.
I've tried a fair few jobs in my attempt to find employment which pays to coincide with acting. I temped for ages. The highlight of my temping has to be some work for the council for whom I spent two full days calling elderly people to see how they were finding their incontinence pads and their incontinence pad removal service. You'll be pleased to know that on the main they were satisfied if a little embarrassed. I mean removal in a waste disposal capacity not... well not that.
So now, though I'll admit I am rather bored at present, I've landed on my feet in the old formatting stakes here. The office is Central, they let me have time off when I need it, the people are lovely, I know what I'm doing and quite frankly it's nice to have the normality of office work and the cold hard dosh. Turns out I'm actually pretty shit hot at formatting too. Who'd have thunk it hey? Don't like to blow my own trumpet but, er, you know, you should shout about your skills I think.
Wish there was a formatting award... I'd absolutely win that. This Oscar's taking its bloody time a bit. Annoying... xx
Just called Derek the handyman. We need him to dump some stuff for us tomorrow afternoon as we're having a new conference table delivered to replace the old conference table we currently have which is not appropriate for the type of mood we are trying to create in our conference area and which we are going to move into the kitchen area as it is appropriate for the type of atmosphere we are trying to create in our kitchen area. There is also fruit there. It's a fruity kind of place see. We also have biscuits. Biscuits galore. Biscuits of every shape, size and flavour available in the Tesco's Value range.
My boss is on the other line talking to a person who is trying to sell her something to do with phones. I did some telemarketing once. I lasted three hours before I quit, a quivering, broken, wrecked, ravaged, drunken mess of a shadow of the person I used to be. I'd had all the training, I knew exactly what you're meant to say. But having worked in offices I know just how ENRAGING it is to have a telemarketer on the other end of the line. I did two hours one afternoon, went out that night and got absolutely bladdered because I knew I was going to have to do more the next day. So that night I felt sick because I didn't want to do it again in the morning and also because quite frankly I'd drunk litres of vodka. Got up, did another hour and quit quit quit. Yes that's right, I'm a quitter. I think it's ok to be a quitter at certain points in your life. Like quitting telemarketing. Or quitting smoking. Life's too short to spend any longer than three hours sobbing because a secretary was rude to you. and I'm afraid I reached my time limit. And there was no cyrstal to be had. 'Twas not the job for me.
I've tried a fair few jobs in my attempt to find employment which pays to coincide with acting. I temped for ages. The highlight of my temping has to be some work for the council for whom I spent two full days calling elderly people to see how they were finding their incontinence pads and their incontinence pad removal service. You'll be pleased to know that on the main they were satisfied if a little embarrassed. I mean removal in a waste disposal capacity not... well not that.
So now, though I'll admit I am rather bored at present, I've landed on my feet in the old formatting stakes here. The office is Central, they let me have time off when I need it, the people are lovely, I know what I'm doing and quite frankly it's nice to have the normality of office work and the cold hard dosh. Turns out I'm actually pretty shit hot at formatting too. Who'd have thunk it hey? Don't like to blow my own trumpet but, er, you know, you should shout about your skills I think.
Wish there was a formatting award... I'd absolutely win that. This Oscar's taking its bloody time a bit. Annoying... xx
