People are People – Classic from the archives

I’ve noticed there are several types of people that use help desks.

1. The Finger Post Gazers – Thems the type that come to the desk wanting something that’s right under their noses. Often unable to see beyond their personal space. They see assistants purely as a finger post

User – Can you tell me where the wall is please?
stegzy – **points**

2. The Rule Bender – They know the rules. They’ve been explained on countless occasions. But regardless they constantly try to get the rules bent. They have an aura of self importance.

Stegzy – I’m sorry you can’t borrow this book as it is reference only.
User – Oh pleeeeeeeeeeeease

3. The Fake Dozer – They are generally quite bright and eloquent. But they know that if they act like dozy duffers they’ll generally get their way. Kind of related to the Rule Bender.

4. The Best Friend – These are the people that see every helpful person as their bestest bestest friend. They use friendly names, banter and generally seem pleasant. But secretly they are shallow manipulative people. They use their friendliness to make the assistant feel bad about being rude to them or for pointing out the rules.

5. The Dependant – They will not take advice from any Tom Dick or Harry. They want their favourite. If their favourite is not available then they either huff or question your every drop of advice. The look on their face when you point out that their favourite’s advice is flawed is often priceless.

6. The Daily Questioner – These people can not go 24 hours without asking a question. Even if there is no genuine need to ask a question they will. They can often be seen straining to think of a question they can ask and the questions they do ask are often banal. Like “Is there air in this room?” or “Which way is down?”

7. The Stupid – These people genuinely are as daft as a brush. They are generally ignorant of the huge 82pt bold signs on walls or doors stating purpose. Unfortunately they are pandemic.

User – **ignoring the sign on the door that says HELPDESK** Excuse me, Is this the helpdesk?
Stegzy – No it’s the fucking butchers.

I’m sure there are more but I can’t think of them at the moment, I’m being pestered by a Best Friend and a Stupid.

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Highlights

Snippets of things people I work with said today include:

“I have no idea who Julian Assange is”

“There are a lot of paedos out there; any man could be one”

“She’s a right slag but I’d stick it in her”

“Them *insert possibly racially offensive word for people of Pakistani decent here* are like that though aint they?”

Yet another week draws to a close where I think “HOW THE FUCK DID I END UP WORKING HERE?”

It’s like stepping into an episode of On The Buses meets Curry and Chips and In Sickness and In Health with Robin Askwith, Sid James and Chubby Brown at their leery best.

AND THESE ARE THE PEOPLE THAT TEACH YOUR CHILDREN*

*Disclaimer – These people might not actually teach your children if you do not live in Warwickshire

Fault Queue

If you know me you’ll know, despite internal ragings, I have the patience of a saint. I haven’t given it back yet because he hasn’t asked for it, but none the less, I have their patience. So perhaps this is why what I am about to relate to you happens to me with alarming frequency.

I’ve noticed it happen a lot lately. It happens in a variety of places be it in shops, offices or on the street. It doesn’t appear to happen to anyone else but I’m sure it does. What is it? Well, it hasn’t got a name. It is more of an occurrence than a thing.

Let’s say I’m queuing for a cup of coffee. There are 4 people in front of me. Each of the 4 get served speedily and without issue. But then it’s my turn.

Stegzy– Hello please may I ha….
Barista #1 – Oh sorry love hang on
Barista #2 – ‘ere Barista #1, was it beans on the jacket potato or was it tuna?
Barista #1 – Oh you daft bugger, it was tuna and gravy with meaty chunks, did you get the gravel out of the fridge?
Barista #2 – No but I left the intricate lace work doillies in the sink
Barista #1moving away from the counter to go behind the scenes won’t be a minute love
An age passes
Barista #1 – Sorry love what was it?
Stegzy – Please may I have a coffee?
Barista #1 – yes hang on
Barista #1 goes through motions of making coffee
Barista #2 comes out from back room
Barista #2 – I can’t find the Rabbit and beef in jelly
Barista #1 – They’re under the sink
Barista #2 – Can you show me?
Exunt Barista #1 & Barista #2
Two minutes pass
Barista #1 returning from back room Sorry love, what was it?
Stegzy – I’ve forgotten

The same happens in shops, petrol stations and bars. Different staff. Totally unrelated incidents. Similar events. What’s worse is, while all this is going on there is a queue of people growing behind me tutting and sighing at me. As if it is MY fault. Of course, long term Livejournal Flisters will know that it is, of course, my fault. Everything is my fault. Germany invading Poland? That was me. Twin towers? Me too. Krakatoa? Yup….my fault.

Anyway, as if this wasn’t some sort of global shop keeping conspiracy, the same happens when I’m driving. I’ll queue at a give way sign. The cars in front have no problem getting out of the junction. Some go straight out. But when it gets to me, it’s like all the travellers in the world have to use that road. Worse, some don’t use their indicators. Or when one direction clears, everyone coming from the other direction decides they want to come past or turn right into the road I’m turning right out of.

Then, there’s the drivers that go reeeeeeeeeeeeeally slow. They pull out in front of you from some give way junction because they are clearly in a hurry, but then proceed to stick to 20 mph when you can’t over take them, and when it’s over take time, the fuckers speed up….I mean what’s going on there?!

It’s hard not to think it is just me. It’s harder not to think that this is all some sort of conspiracy against me. So because of this difficulty….that is what it must be. It is a global conspiracy. Against me. A global penance for everything being MY fault.

Mad Woman I vud like to renew my bookinks pleases
stegzy Certainly
**Scan card check record**
stegzy I’m sorry there are requests on three of your books you will need to bring them back
Mad Woman Vy?
stegzy Because your loan period has expired on these books and people are waiting to borrow them
Mad Woman Vell can’t zey be borrowinks other bookinks? Vy do zey vant zeez?
stegzy Probably because they are the only copies we have
Mad Woman Vell zat is stupidinkz Vy do zeez people vant to borrowinks zeez bookings? Vy?
stegzy Thats the nature of a library love
**Exit Mad Woman**
**Enter Mad Woman**
Mad Woman Vy? Vy do zeez peoplinks be need zeez bookinks? Vy?
stegzy I have no idea. Perhaps they need them for an assignment
Mad Woman Vell zat is stupidz. I’ve never heard of anythinkz so stupidz.

Of course it is all my fault

Sleepses

So last night I donned my tartan pyjamas, picked up teddy and hopped into bed at a respectable hour as opposed to “ungodly o clock because Warcraft is addictive”. The reason behind the early night will become clear after the weekend (because I like to add a dash of mystery to my entries these days). Anyway, I had but just nodded off, the opening credits for the nights dreamingses were starting and went something like this:-

 

Stegzy Gnomepants Subconscious presents
A Stegzy Gnomepants Dream
Dreamed in GlorioustechnicolourAvril Lavigne

and The Tight fitting cat suited lesbian vampiresses with comedy inflatable breasts

In

Steamy Sex Orgies on Underground Trains Vs the Binbaggers and that woman with the green poison VIII

In soft focus

Avril Lavigne – Ooh Thelma Blair, Liv Tyler and Hayden Panettiere come and help me rub this olive oil into my pert nipples while I do rude things to Kirsten Dunst with this cucumber. You fuckin bastard I fuckin hate you you fucking cunty bastard sweary sweary bum bum

Shouty Man on street out side – You fucking bitch I fucking hate you I’m going to smack you yadda yadda yadda shouty shouty shouty

Back to real life with a start

At this point I woke up. Very annoyed. I mean just what rude things did she mean? What a point to start and end a dream! Vexxed and annoyance levels heightened by the fact that my bedside alarm clock revealed I had but been asleep for 20 minutes, I looked toward the window in response to the shouty man on the street outside who was still shouting, wtf was going on?

Shouty Man on street out side – I’m fucking gonna slap you just fuck off fucking fuck fuck fuck slap hurt bitch arrgh toilet roll fucking pot noodle
Shouty Woman – Just fuck off you fucker

By the window Mrs Gnomepants was peeping out down onto the street with all the subtlety of a flamboyance of flamingoes in a blizzard. I shuffled grumpily toward the window listening intently. There on the street was a car, the doors wide open and a rather shouty shouty man shouting at some woman, getting rather rough and slapping her about a bit. Obviously drunk (the police in South Yorkshire don’t give two flying fucks about rural drink driving so it is rife) the man was seriously and scarily shouting at everyone in the street that he had roused from their slumber, who had obviously also started to peep out of their bedroom windows, instructing them to “FOKIN MIND YO’ ORN FOKIN BIZNIS”. At which point I shrugged and thought well fuck it then, and climbed back into bed.

Mrs Gnomepants called the police. Not to inform them of my disinterest in local drunks fighting it out on the street, but because she was concerned that a woman had been assaulted (Believe me the woman was giving that bloke a better slapping than he was giving) and that there was a drunk driver on the street and could the police come. Shouty man and Shouty woman went separate ways, shouty woman headed towards Grimethorpe still shouting at shouty man even though shouty man had driven off noisily (and dangerously) toward Pontefract Road.

As I desperately tried to get back to the sticky girl on girl action in Dream Theatre, I could hear Mr Shouty Man squeeling about further up the road and Mrs Shouty Woman screeching like a banshee in the other direction.

Honestly, it’s people like that that give booze a bad name.

Eventually I nodded off:-

Avril Lavigne – (Licking buttercream off her fingers while zipping up the all in one tight fitting pvc catsuit over her rather curiously large voluminous comedy inflatable breasts) Right then Drew, Lets get him
Drew Barrymore – (Brandishing a rather large hypodermic syringe filled with green liquid) Ok but don’t forget to bring those bin bags

Bastards. I always seem to miss the best bits.

Iggy pop

Sat to my left are a young couple. They are billing and cooing like a bunch of teenagers. They’re supposed to be working. This is a library not behind the fucking bikesheds. He’s talking in that fucking irritating cute voice and she is clinging to him like some fucking human limpet. I’ve seen them about Uni. He talks on her behalf and she just looks sheepish and docile. I bet they’re members of some weird cult.

Yesterday I was trying to get down the Lane with no name. That irritating ignorant fuck next door but one (the aka Good Life) was trimming his hedge. Mr Goodlife, you may recall, is married to a woman that looks like that woman from the eighties BBC drama Life and Loves of a She-Devil. They give the impression that they live self sufficiently and seem to think they own the fucking Lane with No name.

They don’t.

It is communal which means it is shared ownership.

As well as that they were the only people on the row of houses we live on to not come and say hello when we moved in. Anyway, his step ladder (I say step ladder it was more like a stool) was slightly blocking the lane. Now any normal person on seeing a car trying to get past would get out of the way until the car had passed. Not fuckwit. No. He just acted as though I wasn’t there. Ignorant fuck. Instead I had to turn the car round and risk the wrath of Mr Pritchard (next door but one the other way) and go through his gate. As I turned I noticed Mr Good Life topple over onto his front into a bank of nettles. Serves the fucker right.

I told G the Human Dog this morning who added that he had also had run ins with Mr Goodlife blocking the lane with no name when G had been trying to get by.

“Next time ‘e does it ‘am gunna jus leave me car behind his see how he fucking likes it”

I added that G should get me and I’ll move my car into the lane too so Goodlife won’t be able to get past.

I’m sure Mrs Gnomepants wouldn’t approve though.

Stupid! Running on a bank

Oh dear. Looks like Britain is suffering from a case of the stupids. I can sympathise but, as I see it, all this panicking will do is just reduce the price of the stockmarket shares and bring about financial instability.

Links to: BBC News article about Northern Rock.

Beyond comprehension

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario:-

*tinkle tinkle of shop door bell*
Fishmonger:-  Hello sir how can I help
Customer:- Yes I would  like some spanners please
Fishmonger:- Yes well you might need next door as this is the fishmongers
Customer:- **hmph** that’s not good enough

Continue reading “Beyond comprehension”