Trains, Buses and the Travelling Community!

I used to have a certain degree of admiration for the travelling community. They were like a band of lovable rogues, with their own unique way of life. I was fortunate enough, to be treated to a brief glimpse into the life of a certain traveller gentleman not too long ago.

If I am perfectly honest, his story was just a little more than intriguing, although admittedly, he could have spent a little extra time ironing out the minor details. You see, he was in the unfortunate position of having insufficient funds for the train to Dublin. What’s more, his wife – who was pregnant – was sitting up in the train station. Much to my disappointment, this meant that I was unable to meet the glowing mother to be in person.

Anyway, among the details of his current - and not to mention most unfortunate - circumstances, lay the potential for me to play a small role as a sort of rudimentary saviour, or “Good Samaritan” if you will. The deal was that if I would only be so kind as to provide him with a bridging loan of a mere £10, he would gladly reimburse me upon his return to Belfast that very same evening. Upon realising that I would require reassurances of the return of my loan, he offered to provide me with his mobile number. That way, I could call him after 7pm that same night and arrange to meet him for the return of my money.

I know what you are thinking. Who could possibly refuse a deal like that! Clearly, nobody willing to give up their mobile number as collateral, would ever dream of pulling a fast one with my tenner. As tempted as I was to seal-the-deal right there and then, I did something that could be considered completely out of character, given the gentleman’s circumstances.

Firstly you need to understand that £10 may be insufficient for the gentleman to make his journey. So, I took the opportunity to ask how much he presently had in his finances, which as it turned out was £20.00! As you could only imagine, I was struggling to contain my excitement. I informed him that I had just the solution to his dilemma. If he and his wife – the one that was pregnant – could see their way to the Europa Bus Centre, he would be able to afford two tickets to Dublin, for a mere £19.30. Having found such a great solution to the problem, I was about to head on my way when he decided to just check, that seeing as I no longer needed to loan him £20.00 then perhaps I might part with £2.00 instead. Having no change I had to decline.

I am guessing that he and his wife – the pregnant one – just had to make the journey in the end without refreshments, but I suppose we can’t have it all. You may think that this is the maddest thing, but when you pretty much rely on the bus to get around, you invariably develop the knack of knowing just how much every journey costs.

Office Lesbians and a Crap Working Life!

The call-centre is the modern equivalent to the sweatshop. Anybody who has ever watched those social history programmes about life as a mill-worker will very quickly begin to see some, more than disturbing correlations.

The role that the call-centre plays is more akin to some sort of monstrous Russian Gulag, than the average working office. In my office in particular, we have a large number of the lesbian community. I know, your thinking that’s brilliant! But before you start filling in an application form, I would strongly recommend that you continue to read on; unless of course you happen to be a Lesbian, in which case feel free to send in an application. Myself like almost every other man, has a fantasy of hot-looking lesbians constantly “getting it on” and that was how I would have been happy for it to stay. The reality of the lesbian office demographic is that most lesbians seem to either just look plain, or worse still like chubby 15-year-old boys with a dress sense to match. Seriously! Before you click on the comment button to express your outrage at the above comments, let me assure you that this is leading somewhere, although at this current juncture I still can’t be 100% where.

In no particular order of “why it isn’t fun to work in a call-centre” please find the list below:

The pay is crap.
The hours are long.
There is no thanks and little reward.
The work is mind numbingly boring.
You are constantly being watched, monitored and regarded with suspicion by the ‘management’.
And finally, the holiday entitlement is abysmal to the extreme.

If the lesbians had been hot, I could have overlooked the rest of my company’s shortcomings, but I guess that was just too much to ask.

Anyway, that’s all from me, but just to be on the safe side. I don’t have a problem with the lesbians in the office; I just prefer the ones in my head. If you feel the need to express outrage, click the comment button below, and I in turn, will continue to exercise my right to completely ignore what you say.