hantsbear: (Don't F*ck With Me!)
One thing guaranteed to make me really snarky when dealing with Customer Service representatives is the phrase "Well, it says quite clearly in our Terms and Conditions..."

Translation : "Oh you are a complete dumb-ass, aren't you darling?"

Have you tried reading some of those Terms and Condtions?  Trying to find the right paragraph, subsection and sentence?  Honestly, it seems to be the one perk in an otherwise potentially soul destroying job, to smugly prove a customer wrong...

Grr.
hantsbear: (Where Are We Going?)
EI-REM
So, I'd taken Best Beloved on a surprise trip to Killarney in Eire for a few days.  We'd done the Ring of Kerry and been to the Dingle Peninsula and generally chilled for a few days.  Yesterday was the return home.  We packed up the hire car and headed back to Cork Airport arriving in plenty of time.  When we checked in the bags at the Aer Lingus counter, the clerk said that there had been a problem with the Edinburgh flight but was reasonably hopeful that there would be no problem with our flight to Birmingham.  Wrong.  We'd gone through security and were waiting at the gate when a call came for all passengers on our flight to go to the gate for an announcement.  It seems that whilst the 737 and A320 jets could land at Cork, there was insufficient visibility for the ATR-72 turboprop we were flying in (pictured) to land and our incoming plane had been diverted to Kerry International Airport.  Which was just outside to Killarney.  So, we collect our bags and head onto a coach taking us basically back the way we had just come!  A mad rush through Kerry Airport (which must qualify as the smallest airport I have ever flown through!) and on to the flight home getting back about 3 hours later than we expected.  "I've been to all the airports in Ireland today!" muttered Siobhan, one of the stewardesses, as we left the plane...
hantsbear: (ABBA)
So, the annual Eurovision steeplechase is over for another year, amid cries of "political voting" from the UK.  Ok, I (finally) admit there is a lot of it going on - the Baltics will vote for each other, the Scandinavians will vote for each other, the former Yugoslavians will vote for each other and the former Soviets will vote for each other.  This to the tune of t' other half smugly sitting on the other sofa with that "told you so" look on his face.  It seems to get past that you have to have something that stands out; that gets noticed.  Or 6 babushkas.  Unfortunately, a 76 year old Vegas cabaret artist just doesn't cut the mustard.  Still, I won a tenner for the said babushkas coming second.  And hopefully Jedward will learn their lesson and never disgrace Eurovision with their presence again - unless this is a deliberate strategy from RTE not to win!!!
hantsbear: (pain)
Every four years, England gets infected with a particularly virulent disease.  Red crosses on white backgrounds appear everywhere and the media whips the populace (or at least those who give a damn) into a rabid frenzy, using metaphors usually used during World War II.

Except me.

I loathe and despise football soccer.  It has rather a lot to do with being forced to play it at school and being generally cr@p at it, enduring the wrath of the rest of the team along with the inevitable humiliation of being the person left at the end when sides were selected.  And fought over as to who didn't get me.  Major boost to the old self esteem.

If I could, I would be on a plane right now to somewhere that didn't give a damn.  Alas, I can't.  I will just look forward to the inevitable schadenfreude when Our Beloved Boys get kicked out of the competition for being, well generally, cr@p.

It's much more fun than watching Great Britain come last in the Eurovision Song Contest again.
hantsbear: (I want to speak to my agent...)
I have had it with this week.  Icing of the cake was packing up to leave, with a customer sat watching me on the sofa opposite.  I ask her who she is waiting for.  She points at me.  I check my list - as far as I was aware, she was due an hour earlier.  But she is adamant that she was told now.  So, I end up leaving in a foul mood twenty minutes late.  And it's pissing down with rain.

And I get home to a big brown envelope telling me that I had passed the online testing for promotion to the next grade and I have an interview and a presentation to go to on the 26th.

Irony is, I don't think I'm ready for promotion now.  I don't think I will cope at all well in the next grade, so my gut reaction is to say "thanks, but no thanks..."
hantsbear: (that's mister cranky koala to you)
I swear this is the revenge of the parent to the child.  Little do they tell the whole story of all the aches and pains that oh so slowly creep up on you as time passes.  Lately, I have been having problems with my back and my knee, making me cuss and kvetch like an old man.

Mother nature can be so evil at times.
hantsbear: (Default)
There is a lot of brouhaha in the British media at the moment about the current success of our Olympic team.  Now I am no sports fan, but I do know that one thing we Brits are good at is snatching defeat from the jaws of victory...!
hantsbear: (Seriously Pi**ed Off...)
I really would like to write a post saying something wonderful has happened.   That something good has happened to push my life along in a positive direction.  And not another piece of constant whining from a downright failure.

But I can't.

Sorry.
hantsbear: (Pauline)
So far this week, I have had one rejection letter for my attempts at promotion; two more to go.  Buzz at work today is that the Nottinghamshire boards are out today, so I should hopefully get home to mine.  And, of course, I am expecting another rejection.  I did my best, but I just have the nagging notion I am not telling them what they want to hear.  So, I shall probably wallow in doom and gloom tonight.  After all, why should I get good news?

Edit: Of course I didn't pass the interview board.  Spent 20 mins on the phone to my friend Stuart, wailing and gnashing teeth.
hantsbear: (Evil Mister Catbert)
So, to make sure that I do use up my vacation time for 2007/2008, I have booked off the last 2 weeks of November.  I have absoultely no idea what I am going to do with them as it is entirely in the lap of the Fates.  I might have money to pay the taxes/surchages to use some of my frequent flyer miles; knowing my luck though it is more than likely that I won't.  But I am damned if I am going to lose valuable vacation time!!!

On other news, my immediate boss has sponsored me to attend a "Meet The Boss" lunch.  I have a horrible feeling that it was a result of some vaguely cynical comment I made, but it is Free Food.  Just so long as The Boss doesn't ask me a crucial question while I have a mouthful of prawn vol-au-vent.
hantsbear: (grrrr...)
Y'know, there are times when I just feel that I might as well empty all my bank accounts and just throw the contents at people from the top of the Broadmarsh Centre.  I lost my cellphone today, which means having to buy a new one.  I know it's not that much these days, but it feels like one step forward ten back sometimes.

End of rant.  Now back to your usual programming.

Addendum : They found the phone at work and it is now back in my posession.  Huzzah!
hantsbear: (Feel My Koala-y Wrath!)
I am getting heartily sick with things at the moment.  I am trying to build up my capital so that I can move out of this room into an apartment of my own.  But sevaral of the efforts I have made of late have come to nothing.  I try and sell an item on e-bay only to have it withdrawn.  And after a couple of months, despite being told that the genetics tests should just be a routine matter, I am turned down at the last hurdle for sperm donation.  Don't panic at the next bit because there is no way I'm going to commit suicide or anything stupid like that, but my life is worthless.  What is the point of me going on?  To provide amusement for those better off who enjoy Schadenfreude (and no, my dear LJ readers, I don't think of any of you like that.)  Look at my pathetic attempts to try and better my circumstances.  And laugh like a Hiyena as I get kicked back down again.

I JUST WANT TO BE HAPPY AGAIN.  OBVIOUSLY THAT IS TOO MUCH TO ASK.
hantsbear: (3D Me!)
The morning is punctuated by fluent cursing in German.  This can only mean one thing - Katrin is working on her end of term project.  Otherwise, a very salient lesson was learnt last night. 

I cannot sing. 

We had a Karaoke night at @d2 (one of the gay clubs in Nottingham) to raise funds for Nottingham Pride and I was persuaded to enter.  As I started to sing, even I could hear the appalling flatness of my notes.  I gave up in the end and read the lyrics in a Grace Jones-eque deadpan.  Rosey (one of my fellow committee members) came up to me afterwards; put a re-assuring hand on my shoulder and said "Steve, I love you dearly but please Never Sing Again...!!!"

It's back to singing in the shower then, I guess...

Oh Sh&t...

May. 9th, 2007 11:18 am
hantsbear: (Seriously Pi**ed Off...)
Life just got a hell of a lot worse.  My solicitor just called to tell me the proceeds from the sale of the house will not cover my mortgage.  Plus I have solicitors fees and realtor fees to pay.

I defy anybody to tell me to think positive right now.
hantsbear: (Ack)
One thing that bothers me at the moment, is that I constantly feel I am looking over my shoulder for The Next Bad Thing To Happen.  I know it's out there, just waiting to trip me up when I least expect it, ready to send my crashing back down to earth again.  Oh, it would be so much better if it were The Next Good Thing To Happen, but the size and voraciousness of all the Bad Things that have happened lately seem to eclipse the Good Things.
hantsbear: (Ack)
Sally Taylor, the anchorwoman on BBC South's local news programme, has just fed her two unwitting male co-hosts doggie treats.  I'd put up a link to it, but the site still only has Friday's programme.
hantsbear: (Homage to the Moof)
[personal profile] profundis has a new user icon:-



Can you say "Schadenfreude"?  Go on, it's such a wonderful word, rolls round the mouth nicely...
hantsbear: (Eucalyptus break)
Whilst out heading for the Job Centre yesterday to sign on, I bumped into a colleague in the market who said that I was looking a lot better.  We talked and as the conversation went on, it seems that conditions are getting worse and planning virtually non-existent.

I think I'm well out of it.
hantsbear: (mystery)
Also known as the night of the last man to enter Parliament with honest intentions. For those who don't know, Guy Fawkes was a part of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament in the early 17th. Century (1603, I think). He was found in one of the cellars of the Houses of Parliament with a large quantity of gunpowder - hence the Gunpowder Plot. These days, we celebrate with bonfires burning an effigy of Guy Fawkes, and fireworks.

A few years ago, I used to be part of a re-enactment group that used to go up to Fort Nelson, one of the Napoleonic forts up on Portsdown Hill, and lurk in the catacombs as part of a living history presentation on the Gunpowder Plot. Part of the presentation involved the formal telling of the story of the plot, with various people, including myself, as plotters. At one point the Narrator would tell of the torture of the plotters, during which I was assigned "Blood Curdling Scream" duty. Which I enjoyed, mainly as I would attempt the most blood curdling screams, gurgles and other tortured cries, in a room next to the auditorium. And I would invariably cut off the last cry abruptly, just to add that certain "something". We would then listen with amusement to the wails of distressed children in the auditorium.

Heaven only knows, over the years, how many wet beds I was responsible in the Portsmouth area...
hantsbear: (wild hair)
I do love a bit of schadenfreude, and todays savaging of Lord President Blair by the ex-International Development Secretary Claire Short MP did leave a smile on my face.
Shame she didn't do it sooner.
Read all about it...!

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