Metrican Standoff

Posted on Sep 15, 2016 by headinablender

We have a pot luck¹ at work today with an assortment of chips, dips and other fattening and delicious things.

One of my colleagues came over to me and said, “Hey, we have Enchiladas over here. In England, do you call then Centimetreladas?”.

I laughed like a fucking drain.

1 For my English readers (or ‘friends and family’ as I like to call them). A ‘Pot Luck’ is when Americans bring food to work either store bought or in a slow cooker (crock pot). In a nation that loves buffets, American workers have figured out a way to bring the buffet to the workplace.

-burp-

“I don’t know why you say goodbye, I say hello” – The Beatles

Posted on Aug 24, 2016 by headinablender

I got to work a bit early this morning, so took the opportunity to make myself some coffee and toast.

Whilst I was waiting by the toaster another employee came over to put some Tupperware’d nastiness in the microwave. We smiled and performed the customary “Good Morning”, the optional “How’s your day going?” and (as I found out very quickly) the unnecessary “I’m utterly fucked”.

I must say, her face indicated that maybe, just maybe, I may have gone a tad too far; but she asked….so….

Anyway, she went back to zapping her box of whatever and I went back to waiting for my toast to ‘Shadunk‘ out of the toaster, when another employee walked by and shouted out to my new ‘friend’.

“Yoo Hoo gurl!” (not a typo; she said ‘gurl’, not ‘girl’)

“Oh, toodle-oo!”

Face palm. That’s ‘goodbye’, you twat.

‘Ding!‘

‘Shadunk!‘

Oh, thank fuck.

Thank you for not being a dick

Posted on Jun 7, 2016 by headinablender

Today at work we had a team meeting. It wasn’t the usual fare with topics and issues that needed addressing; this was lighthearted.

So that was nice.

In our department have the option of writing small paper notes of positivity and appreciation. These are then collected and shared at these meetings for everyone to enjoy.

Is ‘enjoy’ the right word?

It’s all very touchy feely.

Here are some examples with the names changed to protect the innocent (although not THAT innocent as one of them is very, very pregnant):

To James.
I always appreciate the way you come in and say ‘good morning’ to everyone. Your positivity is contagious.
From Kim.

Or…

To Becky.
Thank you for letting me feel your baby’s hiccup.
From Linda.

(“Becky’ is the pregnant one. Linda isn’t just a weirdo.)

(Much)

And…

To Betty.
You’re always putting others first and never have a bad thing to say about anyone.
From George.

You get the idea. It’s enough to make you want to vomit into your mouth a little bit.

This went around the entire room and there wasn’t a single one for me, until right at the end.

To Daniel.
Thank you for not sticking your middle finger up at me today.
From Doris.

Yep, that seems about right.

Spelling it out really doesn’t help me.

Posted on Mar 28, 2016 by headinablender

I haven’t really put pen to paper – or fingers to keyboard – recently and this is due to two simple factors:

I have recently started a new job at the company I work for and have therefore been preoccupied with not fucking it up.
I procrastinate more than (note – come back and add example here)

This isn’t to say I haven’t been making notes of life events; I have. It’s just a case of sitting my arse down and actually writing something.

The irony is, I actually started drafting this post…got sidetracked…and in the meantime posted something else entirely. Well, now I’ve decided to sit down and at least attempt to finish this entry.

To manage your expectations, this isn’t a big amusing moment in my life, but more of a mini-rant about a gripe that I never realised was a gripe until it began rearing its ugly gripey head.

And this isn’t the only gripe. To be honest, there are a few small issues here in America that I simply wasn’t prepared for. For example, America doesn’t seem to have a word for ‘peckish’.

I’m sorry….what?

I used it in a sentence the other day at work and was met with lot of blank faces.

No word for peckish? Really?

That evening I went home and asked my wife if there was an American word for ‘peckish’ and all she could come up with was ‘a little bit hungry?’. This astounds me in a nation that is known for being in a constant state of graze.

Saying ‘I could eat’ isn’t quite the same.

Also, another unexpected gripe is the fact that most people I’ve met can’t read the 24hr clock (or ‘Military Time’ as they call it here). I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve seen them deducting 12 on their fingers and quitely mouthing the words.

“So, 17:00 is…(counting on fingers, under breath) 16:00, 15:00, 14:00, 13:00, 12:00, 11:00, 10:00, 09:00, 08:00, 07:00, 06:00, 5:00. it’s 5pm, right?”

Amazing.

Admittedly I do remember struggling with this myself, when I was SEVEN.

Anyway, back to the case in point.

I speak to a lot of Americans on a daily basis at work and, more often than not, I need to take their email address. This isn’t anything out of the unusual, except for the way they read out their email address. It simply baffles me.

Me – “What’s your email address?”

Them – “D as in Dog, A as in Apple, V as in, erm, Van, E as in Everyday, S as in Sam, M as in, erm, Mary, I as in Insulin, T as in Tommy, H as in Happy”

Small pause.

Me – Sorry, you said that so quickly, so it was D for Delta, A for Alpha…”

Them – “No, A like Apple”.

Me – “What’s the diff….er, I mean, can you repeat it for me?”

Them – “D as in Dog, A as in Ask, V as in Vanessa, E as in Egg, S as in Sam, M as in Mary, I as in, erm, (Inbred? Idiot? Imbecile?) Illinois, T as in Tree, H as in Hello”

(Usually always completely different words from the first attempt).

Another pause.

Me – “So, ‘DaveSmith’ then?”

Them – “Yes”

Me – “Ok….?”

There usually follows an unnecessary pause while the customer assumes I magically know their email domain name.

Me – “And the rest of it?”

Them – “What?”

Me – “Davesmith…..at?

Longer pause whilst they try and understand that I’m not a fucking mind reader.

Them – “@gmail”

You’ll notice the lack of “.com”. In the US, if they don’t say ‘.org’ or ‘.net’, then it’s an assumed ‘.com’.

This has caused me no end of problems when I give out my email as I still use my ‘.co.uk’ address. This usually takes some explaining and is met with a blank, open mouthed stare.

Drool optional.

So this is my issue, why don’t the majority of Americans actually say their email as it’s written? I could understand if it’s something like 15t8f725d54it4@blah.com, but it rarely is.

It’s usually something that can be read out like ‘davesmith’, ‘rockdude’ or something laughably awkward like ‘sexxychick’ or ‘hotmama’.

These last two are particularly interesting when you can hear little kids in the background.

Seriously love, have a different email address when you’re shopping; your poor husband must hate calling on your behalf and being asked for it.

At least I understand why HE prefers to spell it out rather than say it.

I was talking to my wife about this and she said a customer had given her “K for Knife”. What next; ‘P for Pneumonia’ or ‘J for Juan’?

Sometimes I try and help them out and they disagree with my suggestion.

Them – “P as in, erm…P as in….”

Me – “P for Peter?”

Them – “No, P as in….erm, Psalm!”

F as in Facepalm

You may have noticed, from the examples I’ve given, there appears to be no grasp of the phonetic alphabet here; at least the official one.

How do I know this? Because it confuses the shit out of them when I use it.

For the uninitiated, the phonetic alphabet is:

A – Alpha
B – Bravo
C – Charlie
D – Delta
E – Echo
F – Foxtrot
G – Golf
H – Hotel
I – India
J – Juliet
K – Kilo
L – Lima
M – Mike
N – November
O – Oscar
P – Papa
Q – Quebec
R – Romeo
S – Sierra
T – Tango
U – Uniform
V – Victor
W – Whiskey
X – X-ray
Y – Yankee
Z – Zulu

Admittedly, I have spoken to a few people who have used the phonetic alphabet correctly and I’ve openly commended them for it. It’s a nice refreshing change from the random selection of words I’ve heard.

Mind you, there are a few unofficial phonetics that seem to have become the standard, even thought they’re not.

These are:

B – Boy
M – Mary
N – Nancy
D – Dog

I hear these every time.

And yet, oddly, they don’t use C for Cat.

Hmm.

I have a C word they can use.

Talking crap

Posted on Feb 16, 2016 by headinablender

I’ve just been for that first satisfying bowel movement of the day. The one that usurps all others.

It was great.

But, unlike those I enjoy at weekends, this one was at the office.

A downside to curling out a fresh biscuit at work is that you’re not always the only baker in the bakery. This visit was one of those times.

Now, a story like this isn’t unusual under normal circumstances, but this was far from normal. As I entered the toilets [restroom/bathroom] I could hear that the occupant of the far cubicle [stall] was talking to someone. He was on the phone.

I took the first cubicle because, well, no-one likes to poo within a foot of another person. I don’t care if there’s a layer of wood between me and him; if I can see the shadow of his feet, I’m too close.

The toilets at work don’t have piped in music, nor are they located next to an airport runway so it was deathly quiet in there and therefore I could hear every word he was saying.

“I know”

“Yes, I heard you”

“Well, you hurt my feelings”

“Yes”

“Yes I know”

“OK”

There was a pause.

“I love you”

His call must have ended at that point because he then proceeded to wipe his arse.

Nice.

I finished my performance, flushed and then spent an unnecessarily long time washing and drying my hands.

Why?

Well, it could be because I believe in good personal hygiene, or it could be because I wanted to see if this guy had the bollocks to come out of his cubicle and reveal himself.

He didn’t.

I wouldn’t have either.

So, to respect his privacy and integrity, I left.

Then, out of respect for the guy, I didn’t hang around in the kitchen waiting to see who emerged. I didn’t think it was right to make myself a coffee really slowly so I could check out if it was someone I knew (who may read my blog and somehow take this invasion of privacy personally).

After a few minutes he emerged. Thankfully I didn’t know him.

It was just one of our security team; a massive bastard built like a brick shithouse.

This could be my last post.

A very ‘British’ cup of coffee

Posted on Feb 1, 2016 by headinablender

I’m currently at work and I’ve just been to make myself a mug of coffee.

Here’s what happened.

I poured the coffee, added sweetener (I try and avoid sugar from a health point of view, despite the fact that sweetener is nothing but chemicals…but hey, less calories right?), and opened the fridge to get a carton of milk.

One of my colleagues was pouring herself a coffee, saw me add the milk to my coffee and said “How very British”.

I looked at my coffee confused for a moment, then at her, then back to my coffee. What’s very British? Coffee? Er, I think you’ll find that’s a very American thing.

Then she placed her cup under one of these bad boys…

…and starting pumping her beverage with Hazelnut…erm…’cream’? Is it cream?

(Shrugs) Who knows?

I smiled at her as she pumped 6 doses of this stuff into her coffee and said “I used to use that until I saw the calorie content. That’s why I went back to using milk”

She looked at me blankly for a moment. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to comprehend what I’d said or if she was recuperating from having to count all the way up to 6.

She eventually replied with “And you guys put milk in your tea, right?” as she curled up her nose in disgust.

“Yes we do. Actually it’s only you guys who don’t”, I said, a little defensively.

There was a pause.

“Yeah”.

She had clearly lost her way in this conversation and went back to stirring her mug of Hazelnut ‘cream’ with a bit of coffee in it.

As I walked away I turned back, smiled, and said, “Tea with milk is epic”.

She laughed.

I don’t know why.

I don’t think she knew either.

Don’t interrupt…

Posted on Jan 20, 2016 by headinablender

I’ve noticed that a lot of my posts recently have been highlighting all the frustrations and annoyances of living in America. It’s been very anti-USA and that’s not entirely fair

I do actually enjoy living here….there is so much about America that is awesome and I will share events when they arise. However, if I wrote about all the things I like about my new life, my posts would be less ranty and more unicorny and rainbowy.

So in keeping with the negative trend, I want to share something that really annoys me when speaking to an American customer over the phone.

Firstly, let me give you some context…

Let’s say a woman is calling our company to order a new jacket for her son. She bought a jacket with us last year and wants the same one again but in a larger size.

Got it?

Good.

Now, in England, the conversation would go something like this…

Customer – “Hello, I’d like to ask you about a jacket for my son”.

Me – “Uh huh, OK”. (verbally nodding to demonstrate I’m listening)

Customer – “Now, I ordered this jacket from you last year…”

Me – “Mm Hmm”

Customer – “…but it’s too small for him now, so I wanted to check if you had the same one but in a larger size”.

Me – “Sure, no problem. Let’s bring up your details so I can find the jacket from last year. Do you have your account number?”

Customer – “Yes, my account number is 123…”

Me – “…123…”

Customer – “…456…”

Me – “…456…”

Customer – “…789…”

Me – “…789, thanks. So your account number is 123456789?”

Customer – “Yes”

(Brings up account details)

Right, now here’s the same conversation with an American customer…

Customer – “Hello, I’d like to ask you about a jacket for my son”.

Me – “Uh huh, OK”. (still verbally nodding)

– Silence –

Me – “Hello?”

Customer – “No it’s OK; you go ahead”.

Me – “What? No, it’s OK. I was just listening; you go ahead”.

Customer – “OK, so I ordered this jacket from you last year…”

Me – “Mm Hmm”

Customer – “Sorry, go ahead”.

Me – “No no, please continue”.

Customer – “OK, so I ordered this jacket from you last year but it’s too small for him now, so I wanted to check if you had the same one as before in a larger size”.

Me – “Sure, no problem. Let’s bring up your details so I can find the jacket from last year. Do you have your account number?”

Customer – “Yes”

– Silence –

Me – (rolls eyes) “So what’s your account number?”

Customer – “123…”

Me – “…123…”

– Silence –

Me – “Hello?”

Customer – “Yes, I’m here, go ahead”.

Me – “So you said it’s 123..”.

Customer – “…123…”

Me – “123123?”

Customer – “…456…”

Me – (getting annoyed now) “…yep…”

– Silence –

Me – “Go ahead”.

Customer – “No it’s OK, you go ahead”

Me – (through gritted teeth) “I need the rest of your account number, please continue”

Customer – “…789…”

Me – “…789, thanks. So your account number is 123123456789?”

Customer – “Yes”

(No account details…unsurprisingly)

Farkin’ ‘ell!

Now, let me be clear, this isn’t the case with conversations face to face, this only happens over the phone. If you so much as fart it spooks them like a deer in the headlights of common sense.

During a face to face conversation I don’t have people stopping mid sentence…unless I flop my cock out.

Fa la la la la, la la la laaaaaAAAARRGHH!!!

Posted on Dec 25, 2015 by headinablender

Today is Christmas Day and I am at work.

To be honest, I don’t really mind; the commute to the office was easier, my colleagues are in a festive mood and the customers have reached new depths of unmeasured dumbfuckery.

It all keeps me smiling.

One of the guys (and a good friend) is playing Christmas music loudly through his computer.

How very festive.

I’m torn between my love for him, my disdain for Christmas music and the utterly overwhelming desire to shove his PC up his arse.

Can I make it any clearer?

Posted on Dec 15, 2015 by headinablender

I had an interesting telephone conversation with a lady customer that went like this:

Customer – “Hi. I need a new shipping label. The one you sent before couldn’t be scanned by UPS.”

Me – “Really? I’m sorry to hear that.”

Customer – “We need another one to print off.”

Me – “Actually, you can just reprint the same label.”

Customer – “No, we’ve already printed that one, and it was no good. It was all distorted.”

Me – “Distorted? in what way?”

Customer – “Well, you know how it looks when a typewriter ribbon is old? That’s how it looked”

It’s worth noting here that she used the words ‘typewriter’ and ‘ribbon’.

I had a feeling this conversation was not going to get easier.

Me – “Oh, I see, so the ink was faded?”

Customer – “Yes and UPS said they couldn’t scan it properly, so could you send me another label that’s not so faded please?”

I felt myself drowning.

Me – “Actually, if the ink was faded it’s likely to be your printer.”

Customer – “No, it’s not our printer, it’s the label.”

Me – “I’m happy to resend you the label, but you will encounter the same problem as it’s a digital image. I suspect it will still come out all faded and distorted.”

Customer – “No, it won’t this time.”

Me – “How do you know?”

Customer – “This time I want you to email it to my husband’s computer as it’s clearer on his screen than on mine, so it will print better.”

Thanksgiving…it’s not British don’t you know?

Posted on Nov 26, 2015 by headinablender

Today is Thanksgiving.

I’m at work.

“What??”, I hear you cry.

“On Thanksgiving!!??”, you continue.

But let’s be honest here, I’m English; I don’t give a shit about Thanksgiving.

It’s not that I dislike it or anything, but it’s just not something that’s been in my life, like tampons.

It’s there, and I’ve seen it on TV a lot, but that’s for someone else to deal with.

Plus, my side of the family are a little over 5100 miles away in England so we wouldn’t have been together anyway, enjoying a holiday none of us celebrates based on something that never happened in the UK and is entirely America in origin.

You’ll be surprised how many people have asked me if we celebrate Thanksgiving in the UK.

(shakes head sadly at the state of the education system)

It also baffles me why Americans think we celebrate the 4th of July over there too.

I suppose, if they celebrate St. Patrick’s Day (Irish) and Halloween (Celtic), why wouldn’t we celebrate Independence Day? After all, it’s a holiday that commemorates the United States’ independence from the British Empire.

Sounds a hoot.

In fact, I think I’m supposed to be offended.

But I’m not, because I don’t care.

Tampons.

The only 4th I celebrate is Star Wars day in May. The nerd in me loves the pun.

To be honest, I seriously believe that no-one here knows why they celebrate the 4th of July, only that it has something to do with Will Smith.

When life does a full 180

Posted on May 21, 2015 by headinablender

Time for an update methinks.

My last entry was a little over a month ago, and since then there have been some massive changes in my life that have been on the horizon for over a year now.

Time to spill the beans.

As you know I was made redundant at the end of February. This was a little saddening and…and….oh who am I kidding; I was over the moon! I practically cart wheeled to the tube station to catch the last tube home.

I am not going to miss those hot, sweaty, vacuum packed metallic cylinders full of joyless, shuffling, mouth breathing vacuous twats.

So long, suckers!

Outwardly – to most – I was melancholy at the loss of my job, but the truth is I was relieved. I hated my job and most of the people who worked there. Not all, but most.

They ones I liked, know who they are…and I will genuinely miss working with them.

Unfortunately my wife still worked there, so I had to be diplomatic. If the company had found out the following piece of news, they would’ve got rid of her quicker than a teenager hides porn.

Plus, we still needed money coming in…for now at least.

So why wasn’t I freaking out about having no job? Why wasn’t I worried about money? Well, this is where it gets exciting.

My wife, as you know, is American. The whole reason she came to the UK back in 2013 was so we could be together whilst we sell my house and arrange my US visa so we could move back to her home town of……..

……..LAS VEGAS!!!

Yes, you read that right; LAS ‘holy shit, I can’t believe it’ VEGAS!

However, once we started the visa process it emerged that being married less than 2 years added complications and fees.

Bollocks.

So we decided to stick it out until our 2 year anniversary and then bugger off. Our 2 year anniversary is this August so in three months, off we shall bugger.

My house sold back in February to an investor looking to buy a property he could rent out. My estate agent was so slick he got the guy to view it BEFORE we even put it on the market.

First viewing. Full asking price. Boom!

He even agreed to rent it back to us until we leave for……..

……..LAS ‘Seriously, i’m so excited I peed a little’ VEGAS!

The tedious paperwork and legalities came to a head in April and we finally got the money from the sale. My wife quit her job 20 minutes later.

In three short months we will depart these UK shores for the desert and I can honestly say it can’t come quick enough.

As much as I have loved England growing up, I’ve outgrown it.

I’ve outgrown the weather, the cynicism, the bad attitudes and the stiff upper lips. It’s time for a new chapter in my life.

So stick with me people. In August this blog will take on a whole new life as I share the trials, tribulations, frustrations and lunacy as a Brit in……..

……..LAS ‘Jesus, it is fucking hot’ VEGAS.

I can’t wait.

Lashing out

Posted on Feb 26, 2015 by headinablender

One of the girls I work with always wears fake lashes. It looks like her eyes are wearing baseball caps.

The other day I dared her to come to work not wearing them, so today she’s done exactly that.

She looks…well…no different, actually.

Her natural lashes (which I believe I am saving from extinction) are long, so she looks just great without those massive canopies keeping her face shaded from the sun.

Goodbye fake tan.

Then she came out with this gem:

“I do feel like I’ve got bigger eyes today”.

Brilliant.

However, this isn’t the first time she’s come out with a random statement. In fact, one of my friends in the office who sits next to her is compiling a book of them.

Here is a sample of what he has so far.

“I have pissed myself before; I was under the influence”

“Why can’t I work from home? I couldn’t work from home because I wouldn’t work!

“Is the Caribbean in Thailand?” (We work in travel)

“What would 50% of the holiday cost be? Oh yeah, half!”

“What class are they flying? Pre minimum Economy?”

Her – “Are you still with the mum?”

Customer – “No, I’m not”

Her – “Aww, ok; are they still her kids though?”

“I actually think I’m in a music video today”

“I can’t wait to shave”

“When you say ‘Afternoon’, how weird is that?”

“Don’t you think oranges are weird? Like, the way they grow. The world is a wonderful place Billy”

“It’s the one bedroom apartment equilavent….equilavent…..EQUILAVENT!”

“About a month ago I shit myself. It was so annoying because it was just after a shower.”

“O.M.G., I think I’m getting fingered by a ghost!”

How can I compete with this comedy gold?

The interesting thing to note is that this girl is actually quite smart. She’s quick to learn and very inquisitive…she’s just a bit of a ditzy twat at times.

Bless her.

When a grammar nazi does graffiti

Posted on Feb 16, 2015 by headinablender

This sign has been up in the toilets at work for a while now.

I’ve mocked it enough. It’s time this was sorted out.

(I couldn’t resist).

When puddings turn bad

Posted on Jan 23, 2015 by headinablender

I was in the break room at work making coffee when one of the senior managers burst through the door. He was quite flustered and started talking loudly to one of the customer service team who thought they were going to be having a quiet coffee break.

They were wrong.

He was talking (or half shouting) about an on-going complaint we’d received from a customer who had become seriously ill whilst on holiday.

“Apparently it’s semolina poisoning!” he half shouted.

I stopped making drinks, turned and smiled, “Did you just say semolina poisoning?”

He turned to me with a face of genuine, serious concern.

“Yes”

“Really? Semolina poisoning?”

“Yes!”

Ok then. I won’t argue. Your education probably cost more than mine.

Literally figurative

Posted on Jan 6, 2015 by headinablender

One of the girls at work is feeling a little under the weather today. She has come out with some choice comments [1].

Firstly we had:

“What is sneezing, exactly?”

This was later followed up with:

“D’you know what? After this cold is gone, I’m really going to appreciate my nose”

Then we got:

“D’you know what I can’t wait to do tonight? Have a shower and blow my nose in my hands”

But the worst had to be:

“Oh my god, I feel like shit. I am literally dying”

Bad use of grammar always grits my shit.

She wasn’t literally dying. Not unless you count the fact that, technically, we’re all dying from the moment we’re born.

But, let’s be honest, she didn’t mean it like that

No, she was saying that her grim demise was fast approaching solely because of her cold.

This misuse of the word ‘literally’ really bothered me because it simply wasn’t true.

So I stabbed her.

[1] Bollocks

William Wallace would have been proud.

Posted on Jul 31, 2014 by headinablender

This morning at the train station I saw a young guy with a tattoo on his forearm that read “Live Free”.

He was also on his way to work.

Some people make this too easy.

Two posts in one day? I’m Dublin my output.

Posted on Jul 10, 2014 by headinablender

I have just met the new guy in the office.

It turns out he’s a temporary contractor for some project or another.

He’s Irish, has ginger hair and is called Patrick.

Oh, and he was wearing a green jumper/sweater.

I shit you not.

To be sure.

So it is.

Potato!

It’s a question of stupidity, right?

Posted on Apr 29, 2014 by headinablender

Today at work I received an email. Well, to be honest, I received a whole boatload of emails, but this one in particular stood out from the rest.

It was from one of the ladies I work with and it read:

‘Dan, can you do something for me please?’

That was it. No follow up. No elaboration. Just that one, simple, pointless question.

I thought long and hard about it for almost a whole millisecond before typing this reply to her:

‘How am I supposed to answer that?

If I say yes and you ask me to kill a man, then I would feel committed to an act I may not be entirely comfortable with.

If I say no and you ask me to help you cheer up a terminally ill child in hospital, then I would be a heartless bastard.

So I’m going to sit here and soon enough you’ll ask me to do whatever it is you need me to do :-D’

I won’t lie, it wasn’t well received.

But when you think about it, it’s a pretty redundant question. I mean, social etiquette forces me into a corner with this one. The only possible answer I could realistically give is ‘yes’, otherwise I’m just a bit of a cock.

And what then? All she would know is that I am CAPABLE of doing something for her, but with no clue if I would actually DO it. After all, I didn’t know myself IF I’d do it, only that I COULD.

If so inclined.

Which I wasn’t.

Probably.

If a genie were to appear in a puff of smoke and, instead of granting wishes, offered her the answer to any question of her choosing, she would probably reply “what, I can ask any question I want?”

“yes”

> Poof <

This got me thinking of all the redundant questions I’ve been asked in my life. The ones that simply don’t satisfy the basic purpose of a question, which is to gain information or clarity.

I don’t include rhetorical questions in all this because they don’t really require an answer. What would be the point in that?

No, I’m talking about genuine questions I’ve heard in my lifetime that serve no purpose other than to use up more oxygen than brain cells.

For example; “Can I ask you a question?”

It’s a lot like “Dan, can you do something for me please?” in the fact that after the socially required answer of “yes”, you STILL need to ask the question you actually wanted to ask in the first place.

Some picky grammar nazis might say that the question in itself is a paradox because you’re asking someone if you can ask them a question, in a question; therefore leaving the recipent without a choice.

But not me, I would never do that.

And what about; “Are you still reading that book?” when I’m sat there, book in hand, reading it.

No mate, i’m deep frying a chicken.

The same goes for “why are you watching this?” or “how can you eat that?”; both of these can be answered with “because I like it”, or “fuck off”.

Take your pick. Both are effective and surprisingly relevant.

And there’s the multifaceted irritant that is, “Do you know what I mean?”, or “Do you know what i’m saying?”, or “Do you see what i’m getting at?”, or “Does that make sense?”, or “Do you get me?” at the end of practically every sentence.

I can appreciate using it from time to time when speaking to someone at great length. In fact, my job as a trainer requires me to check throughout the day if the content is making sense, but I don’t use it at the end of practically every sentence.

If you’re that unsure the person you’re speaking to knows what you’re saying, either communicate more effectively or shut up.

The latter would be preferable.

Know what I mean?

The tortoise and the hare

Posted on Feb 12, 2014 by headinablender

Recently my wife started working at the same company as me. Her role in the company requires us to get into work a little closer to 8.30am than 9am.

Dammit.

In order to achieve this we’ve discovered we can catch the same train I’ve always caught and then get off at the following station to connect with a much faster train into London.

Make sense?

So why haven’t I always done this?

Well, there is a method in my madness. The train I always catch is virtually empty with tons of cosy seats for much needed snoozing, whereas the faster (and therefore more popular) train is standing room only; packed full of happy and joyful commuters all too happy that I’m taking up that last square inch of space on the train.

It’s all very intimate. Lots of touching.

So, in true form, we boarded the slow and empty train and took a seat. It was a little taster of what we could’ve had if we’d stayed on board, but soon enough the next station was upon us and we reluctantly got off.

It was a cold and rainy morning, so that always makes it easier.

The train sat in the station for a few minutes and I took this time to smile at the amount of people running to get on before it left. There were a lot of them this morning for some reason.

Maybe they knew something we didnt.

Maybe they should’ve risen out of bed earlier this morning.

Maybe I hadn’t noticed in the past because by this time I was usually sat on my virtually empty train; head back, mouth open.

My favourite of these platform runners was the business man who sprinted at the doors just as they began to close, managing to wedge his hand between them in a futile attempt to prise them open like some kind of action hero.

The doors didn’t open.

He removed his hand.

I smiled and turned to my wife, “That’s happened to me so many times”, before turning back and continuing with, “Ha ha, gutted mate”.

The guard blew his whistle and the train slowly started to pull away. The business man looked thoroughly pissed off, as did the others who didnt even manage to get close enough for some ‘hand in door’ action. But, to be honest, they needn’t be; the next train was also heading to London Victoria station and would actually get them in 15 minutes earlier.

Granted it’ll be standing room only, but its all very friendly.

Why the rush for this particular train? Calm down people. The faster train is just behind it. Relax.

We looked up at the information board which was still displaying the virtually empty, and still slowly departing, train and waited to see if the fast train behind it was on time.

‘Cancelled’

What?? No!!!

We shouldn’t have got off!

The slower train would’ve got us to the office on time, but now we were going to be late.

The runners knew. They KNEW!

Shit.

And as we watched the virtually empty ‘slow’ train full of warm and comfy seats (that we’d just been sitting on) leave the station I swear I caught the business man smiling at me.

Ha ha, gutted mate.

Knot annoying at all!

Posted on Sep 11, 2013 by headinablender

Today I did the imaginable and wore a tie to work.

Oh the scandal!

It seems that wearing a tie results in the following tediously repetitive remarks…

“Are you feeling ok?”
“I bet you’ve got an interview today”.
“Oh you look nice/smart today”.

Allow me to comment on each of these in turn…

“Yes I’m feeling ok”.

If I’m wearing a plaster cast on one or more of my limbs, or a pink ballerina dress complete with snorkel and top hat whilst dribbling the Benny Hill theme then yes, please ask if I’m feeling ok. Otherwise S.T.F.U.

Wearing a tie with my usual trouser/shirt combo at our office in central London isn’t actually a cause for concern. This plastic sheeting you’re standing on however…is.

“No, I haven’t got an interview today”.

Do you honestly think I would wear my tie into work if I DID have an interview? Surely I would get changed before I came back into the office? Honestly, how stupid do you think I am, despite the fact I’m rapidly losing brain cells talking to you?

I also don’t wear Speedos into the office if I’m swimming that day or a rubber gimp costume if I’m visiting your mum.

“Oh, thanks for saying I look nice/smart today”.

It’s always lovely to know that I usually don’t.

So do I take off the tie? Or do I sit here fantasising about choking the living shit out of everyone who asks?

(Adjusts tie and smiles)