Another early morning, another day at work. I actually thought of something new to say about the call-centre today, though. Every time a call comes through I’m reading the paper on-line and get a beep in my ear and a box on the screen in front of the paper saying incoming call breakout’. I then have one second before the call is connected, and have to get my brain into gear to say either ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’. Now this takes about 4 seconds or so, just the way the human brain works I suppose, so the customer gets about three seconds of dead air. Not too much to worry about, you’d think? But about 10% decide they’ve been cut off and start going “Hello?!” before you can talk. And I just want to shout “For fucks sake, just fuck off!” Don’t know why, but I’ve asked a couple of my colleagues and they both agree. Please, if you phone up a customer service line never do this. Or start listing your full address when they ask your name. This invalidates the ID procedure. Obviously, you would think.
I hate my job. I think I’m more stressed than ever before in my life right now. The more I work, the sooner I can leave. The more I work, the more wound up by fuckwits I get and the more I want to leave. So it goes.

To draw a line though, we had a mini-party to celebrate Amalia’s birthday tonight. The new housemate came for the first time too. He’s French, but not another Jacques, I’m fairly positive about that. Seems like a nice chap, and he chose a good day to get here as we were all pissed and joking about in what must have looked like a very positive scene. The house is actually gelling really well, now I think about it. Hmn.

After we went to the Concorde 2 to see LTJ Bukem, fucking fantastic of course, but since I’ve been up since 6.30 I couldn’t stay past 2 really and walked back without warning people. They were all pretty fucked and I just needed to sit down with some water, not an option in there.

So, here I am.

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