Stayed at my mum and dads over the weekend. I say mum and dad, it's just mums now.By Sunday she was doing my head in. I luv here to bits but i've remembered why i don't live at home anymore. It wasn't because she wanted to talk all the time. It was more to do with the fact that she had a list of things that needed doing. I'm a replacement for my father. Any odd job that he would have done now falls on my shoulders.
But i was out on the piss on Friday and had a good old blow out with Daniel. When i got back i was sleeping in my old bedroom. It seemed weird, it always does. I wake up in the middle of the night for a piss and it feels like i've taken a step back in time. For a second i'm 15 again.
At work this morning i have been given another new guy to "induct". He's a lovely lad but slightly dim. The lights are on but no one is in, if you get my drift.
I felt like shaking him on several occasions because there seemed to be no response to anything i said. He was walking around in a dream most of the time and it seemed as thought he was on another planet. A bit like me on Saturday Morning after a Friday night out. ;-) But he's only 17 and doesn't drink so he's no excuse.
Went shopping to Asda on my way home tonight and was bombarded with over the top customer service.
"thank you for waiting sir"
"do you want any help with your packing?"
"hasn't it been cold today?"
"these are really nice arn't they?"
"would you like any cashback with that?
etc etc.
It's like having your hair cut, the nosey buggers keep asking never ending questions. Now we know what happend to all those interrigators when they shut Guantanamo Bay.
They all got jobs at Asda
6 comments:
The prattle that check out assistants are required to spiel drives me scatty. When I get the 'thank you for waiting' bit, I always feel like saying 'well, if I wanted these spuds these onions and this wine I had no fucking choice, had I?' butI have to bear in mind that they are REQUIRED by some management twerp with his newly acquired MBA and an 'O' level in Language Mangling to do all this bloody chirpy boot-licking.
The worst was one day at Peterborough station. The lad clipping tickets at the exit had to parrot 'thank you sir, a pleasure!' for every damn ticket he punched. God help us.
Yeh Vilges, you know they don't wanna say it and you know they've been told to do it. So you also know it means nothing.
Well, at least they don't get to tell people what they really think! Management has to put words in their mouths, for "an idle mouth is the devil's workshop."
When the new lad is inducted, will you be his supervisor and have to evaluate him?
Word verification: grade — what the new lad might not make, but you definitely are
I know all these service people are trained in trying to be the most polite and professional they can be. I agree some of it is annoying but it's better than being rude and non-engaging like some can do.
What was the fight with Daniel over?
Good job helping your Mom.. You know after living with someone so long she loves the company.
The funny thing is, if they are mystery shopped and don't give the spiel they could face disciplinary action.
Do the people upstairs not realise, no one wants to hear that shit. Just take my money, help me pack and shut the fuck up!
Mind of Mine, quite right. The 'personal touch' ceases to be a personal touch when it's imposed, applied by rote and, worst of all, policed by the 'Mystery Shopper'. Do these really exist, or is it like the bogeyman?
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