Can They Really Be This Thick?

English: Poster for The Idiot Cycle (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You see, this is what we have to deal with, hour after hour, day in, day out.  Can you blame me for wanting to throttle every last one of these idiots?!

This is a word for word transcript of a conversation I had with a member of Joe Public, today.

JP: When is my payment in December?

Me: The 21st.

JP: The 23rd?

Me: 21st!

JP: But the 23rd is Christmas day.

Me: 21st!!

JP: Oh.  The 23rd.  Thanks. Bye.

Notice how I didn’t even bother to correct the Christmas day abonimation? It’s not worth it.  Sometimes – most times – it’s like talking to jellyfish.

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DWP – Dead Walking People (two)

“What the hell’s going on?” It was Sara, sitting at the desk next to me.

“I’m not sure, but I think we’d better find out,” I said, looking around for a supervisor and wouldn’t you know it – the lazy bastards aren’t any where to be seen.  There’s a lot of talking now and very little work going on.  Someone shouts up from the other end of the room that the phones are dead – there are no calls coming through.  This is verified by other agents as they take off their headsets and stand up.  Well, I always wanted to get out of this crap job, but was I OK with it taking a nuclear war to do it?  I think I was.

I walk over to a window and look up at a sky that has darkened to an ash grey.  One of the windows is open slightly and I smell brick-dust and burning.   The air is warm and seems to fizzle in my nostrils.  Bloody hell, is this really happening?  Sarah comes over and sees my wide eyes glaze over.

“What is it Carl?”

“Third world war, I do believe,” I say, with a smile on my face.

I must have looked a bit strange because Sarah backs off sightly, then turns to walk out into the corridor.  I look towards the door and through the two long slatted windows, I see someone run by.  Followed a few seconds later by someone else who seemed to be limping.

“Sarah,” I say.  “I’d be careful if I was you.   We don’t know what state this place is in.”

Sarah turns at the door, looks at me with a far away expression and goes into the corridor.  Just as she gets through the doors, someone smashes into her from the side and she’s gone from my view.  I look around our room.  Everyone seems bewildered, some scared, others happy to be off the phones, probably thinking this is just a minor problem which is giving them a welcome break.  Still no supervisors about.

I head towards the doors and try to peer sideways through the glass slats.  Nothing.  No-one.  No, wait.  There’s a dirty red smear on the wall opposite.  I begin to push ever so slowly on the door, easing it open just a fraction, then stumble back in panic as a man shoots past, blood spurting from stumps that used to be fingers.

. . . to be continued . . .

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DWP – Dead Walking People (one)

I will knock down the Gates of the Netherworld,

I will smash the door posts, and leave the doors flat down,

and will let the dead go up to eat the living!

And the dead will outnumber the living!        The Epic of Gilgamesh

                                                                                             

There was a huge bang, an explosive boom.  It was quickly followed by an intense rumble that vibrated through the building.  We all looked up from what we were doing, most of us still on a call.  Never one to pass by a chance to rid myself of an obnoxious customer, I cut my call off and looked around.  Those still on calls continued to help the ungrateful callers, albeit with a puzzled look on their faces, those of us not on calls looked around the office and at each other, wondering what had happened.  The rumbling trailed off but seconds later, the windows rattled violently as if buffeted by hurricane winds.  Some of the women gave short screams, a couple of staff ran to the windows and peered out.  It had felt like an earth quake but we don’t get quakes in the UK which shake buildings like that and I’m pretty sure they don’t start with a bang.  The windows stopped their rattling and normal office sounds resumed.   How odd.  Had it been a bomb somewhere up the road or a gas explosion?  Before I could open my mouth to speak to my colleague next to me, the windows shook again, this time with less vigour.

O.M.G!  A thought struck me and a memory from my military past came flashing back.  In the event of a nuclear detonation, there is a fast blast of air that radiates outwards from the explosion, then a few seconds later, it returns to the source as a vacuum is created by the intense heat.  Is that what it was?  Had we finally entered World War Three?

. . . to be continued . . .

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Kids Versus Adults

These days, it does seem that children are allowed into almost anywhere.

I remember when I was a child, there were clear boundaries between adult and child areas of society.  The pubs all had frosted or stained glass windows so that anyone under age couldn’t even see in!  As a child I never questioned that, but was always fascinated by what might lay beyond the mysterious windows.  Today, there is no mystery.  Public houses even allow children inside the pubs!  If I ever accompanied my parents for a drink in the evening (which was rare), we had to sit outside in the beer garden.

It is similar with betting shops.  Although kids aren’t allowed in, they no longer have frosted or painted windows, in fact they seem to have the largest, brightest windows on the high street!

Where have the mysteries gone?  Kids no longer have to wait for the great adventures of seeing the inside of a pub after years of wonderment.  And because of that darned internet, they don’t even have to wait to see the opposite sex naked!  Now that is sad.  As for kids being in adult places, well, as one of those who enjoyed a more innocent childhood, personally, I wish they still weren’t allowed in pubs.  I have my own kids, but sometimes you need adult only time, even if the kids are well-behaved.

In my opinion, if we treat kids as little adults, then we take a magical part of their life away.  

G4

. . . need I say more?

You probably already know how crap G4S are.  Unfortunately they are contracted to give security to civil service sites.  Now, on our site, the Keystone cops would give  more competent service.

Because our site is large, there are quite a lot of security officers.  We have a main entrance and a side entrance.  G4 are experiencing budget constraints like every other company and because of this, the side entrance is only unlocked for parts of the day.  The main entrance security is beyond a joke.  I hope no terrorists are reading this!

Let me just digress slightly and maybe give the terrorists a little laugh.  There is another government benefit site not far from the one I work at.  That has a main entrance and also a side entrance, but also a small back entrance.  Now, the back entrance isn’t manned.  Civil servants gain entry through use of their passes swiped in front of an electronic lock.  This entrance is nowhere near any other entrance, in fact it’s not really in sight of any one as it is behind all the buildings in a corner that leads to a side road.  Many a time I have walked past this entrance and seen civil servants nipping out of it for a cigarette, then going back in and not even bothering to see if the gate closes behind them.  Several times I have noticed the gate left open slightly because of the lazy bloody civil servant and his/her total disregard for security.  Obviously G4 are unaware of this as it still happens.  Any one could walk in, set their bomb or spray their bullets and walk out again before the last brick or body hit the ground.

Now, back to my site.  Whether you drive in or walk through the gate, the security guard who is meant to check your pass, glances quickly at you, not your pass, then turns back to his mates in the security hut, scared of losing the thread of his conversation.  On a couple of occasions, I have flashed my drivers licence and my key card instead of my pass and still been waved through.  Bloody useless!  They should stop all cars and personnel and physically check passes.

I have done security work both in the forces and the private sector and have never seen such incompetent security.  I wouldn’t give these idiots the security contract for ‘The Early learning Centre’.

P.S. Does anyone else think their logo says “GAS”?

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How welfare assessors told disabled woman to get ready for work

How welfare assessors told disabled woman to get ready for work – video | Society | guardian.co.uk.

Well, folks, that’s Atos for you! (I like to call them Atos-sers)  They are almost bigger bull-sh*itters than the civil service.  They make perfect bedfellows!  Do we even know who they are?  What their qualifications are?  Do we even care?  Maybe we should go to war on Atos – they seem a load of planks to me.

I was once assessed by them, during my six week sick leave for stress.  They assessed me over the phone, twice.  Both times the lady on the other end was very nice and made noises and placations in all the right places.  By the time I got back to work, I got a written warning!  Yet my GP had given me the time off and given me notes to take in.

Bloody back-stabbers.  Please belive me and take it from someone who knows – they are useless and their assessments worthless.  I once spoke to an ex-Atos employee and she told me they get a bonus for every person they get into work.  Not much of an incentive to keep people off then, is it?  And remember, it’s the government that appointed them.  That makes me so proud!  NOT!

More on this here – it makes for ANGRY reading!!  MORE Bullsh*t

What Language Please?

If we get a call from someone who doesn’t speak English (you’d probably be surprised how many we get), we have to use a telephone interpreting service.  This is a three-way conversation between the helpline officer, the customer and the interpreter.  We can connect to an interpreter through this service almost immediately, for any language.  And this service costs a small fortune for every call.

Now, I didn’t get one of these today, but one call I did get prompted me to explain the reality of how we deal with these calls!

It was a call from someone who originally came from Slovakia.  The speaker was the son whose mother didn’t speak English, but his wasn’t too bad.   He told me what she needed and I complied, but during the call he said his mother had telephoned five times over the last couple of days and requested an interpreter.  The problem was that every time she was being connected to one, she was cut off.  Strangely enough, this seems to be a common occurence for calls such as these.  Any guesses as to why this might be?  Faulty equipment, perhaps?

Nope, your first thoughts were correct.  We cut them off!  Most of them anyway, and a lot of helpline officers do it.  The nightmare you have trying to sort out a problem whilst dealing with an interpreter who doesn’t have a clue how the benefit works is unbelievable.  Of course, we all take the odd one of these calls in the correct manner, just not to make it too obvious to the little Hitlers in the back office.  But it is amazing how many times I dial the wrong connection number and the recorded message tells me “this number is not recognised”, or as the connection is ringing my finger slips on the big red disconnect button.  They shouldn’t make it so big!  It’s very distracting.

Look, before you all start shouting the odds, don’t you think the lazy blighters ought to at least make the effort to speak our language before claiming our benefits?  Half the time we do connect with an interpreter, we could do with an interpreter for the interpreter!  It’s a bloody stupid service given solely so the big, fat, soft, lefty do-gooders can say we’re embracing diversity and report to the politicians that all their asses are covered.  Bullsh*t!  As far as they’re concerned, ‘everyone has the right to converse in their own language.’  Even if a Welsh person who can speak English perfectly (and surely 99% of them do), wants to speak in Welsh, we have to transfer them to a nominated Welsh speaker!  Why?  What difference does it make?

One day soon, I am going to learn how to say, “F*ck *ff” in every language!

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