Look. I understand your job isn’t the best out of the JobSite search results owing to the general monotony of it all but I really…I can’t…
OK, picture this; you’re on your way to meet a friend and, obviously, you’re running late because your eyeliner was being a little bitch. You stop into Asda/Aldi/Morrisons/Large-British-Supermarket to pick up a few bottles of Get-Me-Drunk-It’s-Friday and off you pop to the tills…So far, so good…
Until you choose Barbara. Fucking Barbara who happens to be on shift with BFFL Anne. Right now, all you want to do it pay for your booze and be on your way but…
Babs: “Well I says to Stuart, I says, I says I can’t work Saturday because it’s our Lucy’s birthday, it is…”
Anne: “It’s never ‘errr birthday! She’s twenny one already?! My gawwwwwwwddddd…“
Babs: “I know, aye. Dunt half make yer feel old, I says dunt half make yer feel old. I’ll be gettin’ me bus pass soon enough! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! Twelve punds and severnter faaave pence love.”
…Suddenly, you’re the third wheel. You’re the one feeling like you shouldn’t be there. Babs, babe, we’re paying customers and you’re making us feel like the burden.
It’s just fucking rude, OK? Rude. Have a chat, by all means, but don’t act like we’re invisible or in your sodding way. We don’t ring up a call centre and hear on the other end “Good morning, you’re through to Josh, how may I help…Gareth! Mate! Remember that film I saw the other week…?” No. No we would not.
On top of that, as if I wasn’t already late for my date with the bottom of the alcohol bottle, I’m practically celebrating Christmas because you’ve miscounted my money. There’s even a computer to do this shit for you, Barbara.
I know I sound like a bitch, but I really couldn’t give a flying ass monkey how old who is and whether it makes you feel ancient. Just scan my shit, take my money, and let me leave.
Being told to ‘Smile’ or to ‘Cheer Up’
Always comes from smug, over-confident pricks who barely know you except for a brief nod ‘Hello’ in passing. Suffering with RBF (Resting Bitch Face) comes with it’s pros and cons but this is my main beef. I mean, for all you know, something may have legit upset me this morning…Were you thinking that this comment would help? That I would turn around and cause me to say “You’re so right!! Thank god you said something because I was at a complete loss as to what to do!”
As it turns out, I was fine. Until you opened your fucking mouth, that is.
People who boast about having no sick days off work…
Honestly. Honestly. Just do not. This is not good. This is not worth boasting about and I will not feign being impressed with this fact. I mean, if you’ve genuinely not fallen ill in the last 20 or so years…that’s epic and I want a full break down of your diet and exercise regime.
However, chances are that’s bullshit and you have been ill because…wayhey motherfucker, you’re human! In which case, what the fuck are you doing with your life?
The reasons this annoys me relates to my overall hatred for Britain’s work ethic…in the sense that I think it is unethical. If you’re on a 37 hour week contract and you’re clocking 50 hours, then y’all need to ask a few questions and cut that shit out. When you’re on your death bed, you really won’t be wishing you spent more hours in the office.
Put yourself first and stay home. Don’t come in with your flu/sickness/herpes. And, besides, better one person out of the office than taking five others down with you.
Drivers who do not use indicators
‘Oh my GOSH you are SO LUCKY my psychic powers are on point today because I KNEW you’d pull out of that junction right in front of me! I just LOVE being kept on my toes!’
Clue is in the name, asshole. It’s literally a fucking centimetre away from your left hand. FUCKING USE IT.
Nothing says ‘Cosy Home’ quite like a wooden floor..!
Said no-one ever.
It’s cold. It looks crap. And have you ever been sat there, watching a film, and some clumsy twat drops the remote? Fuck me…the noise was so unexpected I’ve shat my pants and I might as well give up on the rest of the film because my FUCKING EARS ARE RINGING from the impact. Brilliant. Happy fucking Friday night.