Going into Work Drunk

Today was the first time I went to work drunk. I was still drunk from the night before so it's not like I'm being irresponsible.

I fucked up my first few calls and the customers gave off about me being shit. I hung up on them even though you're supposed to give them a warning.

My call handling time is not as good as it should so I hung up on a few folk. One of them I said "smell your ring, yeow!"

I don't know why though, I went to the toilet and boked my ring up. I heard some grunting noises coming from the disabled toilet and I was sure it was humping and pumping going on in there. I guess that's the sex meet up point. Gonna keep my eyes peeled and hope to get some hot lady in there with me at some point.

I noticed today how some people like everyone to hear their calls, they speak with a loud authorative tone so that people on the other side of the office can here them.

This was pissing me off loads so I walked past one of them and said "smell your ring, yeow!" so the customer would hear. Not the smartest move, because the guy who took the call eyeballed me then came up and asked if I'd hung up on the customer earlier. I told him that I didn't hang up on customers and receited the company motto. I think he fell for it. I hope so, I want to keep this job for a bit.

How to Get on the Internet at Work!

I can post at work now because Book Boy showed me a way of getting on blogger. See on Internet Explorer everything like this is blocked but if you use Firefox nothing is blocked. The tech dudes are a bit pish like this. Anyway Firefox is hidden away in some folder so the bosses just don't seem aware it's there. He said to keep it to myself because only a few of us know about it and if the boss finds out shit will fly.

Speaking of the boss, there's a lot of them about and I don't want to dump them all on you at once so I'll talk about my team leader London Girl. London Girl is from London and always bangs on about it, how it's bigger than Belfast and how Belfast closes down at night but London never stops. Little My said if she doesn't like it here she should fuck off back there. Book Boy says this is racist but Little My says it's not because London Girl is white. I think Book Boy has a point though. I think London Girl might be alright outside of work but in work she likes to crack the whip. I think in a past life she might have been a slave driver and maybe that's why she's experiencing racism in this life.

Lemon Bonbons and the Secret of New Moon Cinema

I was in work huffing and stuffing my face with lemon bonbons when Little My asked if she could have one because she thought they tasted so nice.

"Ha! No!" I said shoving four into my mouth at once.

"Why are you being nasty?" she said.

"I didn't start it," I said.

"Tuesday Kid, are you annoyed that you didn't get to go and see New Moon with us?"

"No way," I spat, but a tear rolled down my cheek and gave the game away.

"It is that. We'd have invited you but it was a spur of the moment thing, we were all at the pub after work, and you'd hurried home to see your dog, we all said it was a shame that no one had your number. We even had book boy try to use his big brain to work it out but no luck. Please be friends. If you won't be it's just mean."

"I suppose," I said pushing the bag of lemon bonbons towards her.

"Thanks," she said. "We all thought you seemed a bit hurt yesterday so we'd a wee chat, and keep this a secret, but we're all chipping in when we get our first wage packet to get you a skateboard."

I beemed a big smile and said this was class. I always wanted to be a skateboard dude and I couldn't wait.

I gave her another bonbon and told her to pass them round, among the friends.

New Moon Cinema Extravaganza

So in work today all the rest of the staff (my team anyway) were all talking about how they'd went to see New Moon on Friday. I was the only one who hadn't went. I hadn't been invited. Kissy Boy and Little My were talking all about how it was so romantic and all that. Little My took this to mean she's in with a chance but I have my doubts. Book Boy was saying that I hadn't missed much, he just went to hang out with everyone.

Me too! That's why I'd have went. I haven't even seen Twilight. I was so annoyed I just sat and my desk and kept my mouth shut. I was still raging when I bumped into Hot Baby Roy in the continental market. Both of us were there on the rob (stealing always cheers me up). He said he'd go and see it with me, he'd been looking forward to it and that Dakota Fanning is growing up feisty and nicely.

I don't want my face kicked off so I told him it wasn't missing it that I missed but the companionship.

"Who better than with friends?" he said grinning.

I know he means me and him but he's going to get so arrested one day and I don't want my house searched as a result.

I tried to steal a wicker snowman but it was too hard. I fucked off up the road while Hot Baby Roy was on the Belfast Big Wheel.

Settling in at work

It's only been one week and I'm already starting to settle in, this should be good. I still have time for Battle Cat, so that's the main thing.

The problem is, is it good to feel settled in? I can't say too much about what we do because mainly if I start to say things that let people know where I work etc, I can't be so open about other things. In fact I've already been to open to feel comfortable with anyone knowing who I am unless I've checked them out first.

Mainly I'll say that it's a call centre and involves credit card transactions. I'll also say that it involves unreasonable and unrealistic things like monitoring how long people spend on each call and bollocking them if they spend too long, regardless of whether they've sorted the problem out.

I know that when I call a call centre about a problem I resent the idea that they're watching the clock and trying to get me off the phone. I'm not calling for a chat or to waste someone's time I'm calling to get something sorted out.

So is it really okay for me to feel settled in and happy to be doing this?

I remember when I was at school having a part time job in a nearby factory. I also remember a friend starting at the same time I did. He quit after three days because he could still see the job from the outside and knew that sometimes you shouldn't slip into that comfortable feeling. It looks uncomfortable for a reason.

Volunteering in Prisons and Hot Baby Roy

I was walking over the Ormeau Bridge last night when I bumped into Hot Baby Roy, he was telling me that he thought his idea for a pub quiz would never get off the ground and that he thought people thought he was a joke. He'd show them, Hot Baby Roy was going to rule this city one day. He'd become something important, like mayor.

He was getting pretty worked up and I told him that I thought he should do some voluntary work, just to show the community he cared about them in his heart.

He snorted and said that the only person he ever knew that did voluntary work used to go into prisons and the guards would sedate all the prisoners and he'd go in and molest them then fuck off home and Hot Baby Roy thought that was disgusting.

I told him he should go to Oxfam and sell clothes. He said that he couldn't be trusted on a till. People have to know their limits and he knew his.

He asked me how the call centre was working out and I told him it was shite because I didn't want him getting a job there. I said on the first day they take you into a room and kick the shite out of you. He looked keen and asked if any women did the beating.

I told him no, it was all ugly men.

Forget it, he said. But I can't I've been thinking about it since yesterday.

David Cameron doesn't care if his wife doesn't cum

Today I had a whiff of what Kissy Boy does to earn his sex man status in the call centre. He started a conversation today about making women cum. He said that all men care about making women cum and that it's just a myth that men role over and go to sleep after they've cum.

Some girl said that her last boyfriend used to wank in the shower and wipe it on the wall. The room went quiet then and it seemed she'd cast herself as the unwanted one in the office (Little My smiled to herself at that point).

Kissy Boy spoke up and said: "I can't believe that men like that exist, I always make sure the woman comes first."

"Yeah right, all men want to come," said Little My, rampant on 5 cups of tea.

"Don't worry, I always cum. It's easier if I know my woman has cum too. It's great when we cum together."

"I think David Cameron wouldn't care if his wife SamCam came," said Book Boy. Book Boy is intelligent, he has a masters degree in politics and likes to talk about intelligent things.

"Yes," said Kissy Boy after a thought, "I don't think Conservative Party leader David Cameron would care if his wife came or not. Even Labour Leader Gordon Brown would make sure that Sarah Brown came."

We all agreed that David Cameron would only care about his own orgasm and would drift off to sleep soon afterwards, and if SamCam whimpered or asked what about her he'd slime :"at least I came."

Kissy Boy is Sensitive and He'd Like To Stay That Way

Today I had a whiff of what Kissy Boy does to earn his sex man status in the call centre. He started a conversation today about making women cum. He said that all men care about making women cum and that it's just a myth that men role over and go to sleep after they've cum.

The Great Office Love Triangle

I ended up talking to Little My at lunch today, because I'd nothing better to say I asked if her and Rap Superstar hit it off on Friday night.

She said that they had but that that was old news. He wanted a good time but she was after mister right now. She looked all confused after she'd said it, like she'd missed a joke, so she repeated it with swear words but still didn't get where the joke should be.

Anyway, she fancied Kissy Boy now, like all the office girls.

I asked her who Kissy Boy was?

She said he was the office hunk.

What about me? I thought. Surely no one called Kissy Boy can be hotter than me.

She pointed Kissy Boy out to me later. He was posing around the office all bleached teeth and steroid arms hanging out of his Ironic T-Shirt. I told Little My that Kissy Boy used steroids so his dick wouldn't work. She said I was just jealous. I suppose she had a point, and I couldn't believe that I was trying to get Little My to like me over Kissy Boy, when the truth was that if she did I'd probably tell her a big list of why she should go back to fancying Kissy Boy.

I've been too busy trying to get to grips with my job I haven't taken the time to look round for a Mrs. Tuesday Kid.

There's bound to be one.

I will find her, no matter what occurs.

First Day on the Floor

So today I was in bright and breezy at nine for my first day on the floor taking calls. It's such a sweat shop. We were threw down to answering calls and having fuckers rant at us fullscale from the word hello, actually we've this pish script to recite at the start of the call, it's not as bad as what dicks at McDonalds have to say but it's not as accurate as "If you're going to be a dick to me, fuck off," which I'm gonna say if this keeps up.

People came round and every so often asked if we were doing alright but when we said no they didn't really do much.

I was called off to the side by my manager for telling a woman that I only just started working here and had never spoken to her before because she was sitting going, "you did _____" and "you did _____" and then later I was called again for telling a customer to stop spitting (I thought this was funny but the manager didn't).

Not much of a start, but a start at least (or most).

Windy Day Sexy Fais

I stood in some glass this morning. I was pure raging I thought about that Bruce Lee movie where he makes the baddies eat paper and warns them that next time they act like muthafuckers he'll make them eat glass.

Still at least Battle Cat didn't stand in it. The wee bit of glass is stuck in my foot and I've tried wiggling it and putting it in a bucket of warm water but nothing.

Then I sat down for a good cry and watched the rubgy, did you see O'Driscoll's try at the end, good on you mutherfucker, class only wish we'd won instead of drawn.

Sat making a doll of My Protege so I could teach Battle Cat to attack him but I can't draw for shit and it ended up looking like Prince Harry, and Battle Cat would bite him anyway.

Broken Windows will Earn Someone a Broken Mouth

Sitting down watching Harry Hills TV Burp getting ready to support the Jedward Boys (by the way Derek Accorah is a funky dancer, who knew?) when a brick comes flying through the window. Luckily it missed Battle Cat, me and the TV. I jumped up and ran out. I knew who it was My Protege the wee bastard. What a wee fucker?

Like all bastard kids they were far away before I was even out the door, I just heard the wee fuckers cackling at the end of the street. It's a sad fucking day when some wee bastards want to bust your windows for wearing clothes.

I'm gonna get my protege and stick my foot so far up his arse my leg will disolve in his guts.

Come on Jedward.

Going Drinking With Office Peeps

So we had our last day of training today and Monday we're out on the floor robbing folk.

Not looking forward to it, especially since we have all these targets to get to for how long we spend on a call and how much we fleece people in doing so.

I'm sure I'll be balling my eyes out at some wee old lady who buys our guff over tins of cat food for her wee bald cat.

We all went out for drinks after the training, or we were supposed to, but half an hour in and one pint down we were down to just me, Rap Superstar and Little My.

Rap Superstar said that we were the three musketeers and started rapping about killing the King of France with an amazing dance.

It was embarrassing as fuck and people in the pub started sniggering and pointing. I felt so small.

He went to the toilet for a big pish and Little My (who hadn't noticed the responses) started talking about how Rap Superstar was so talented with all his rapping.

I said I thought raping would be more his sort of thing.

She didn't hear me and I caught myself on in time to not repeat it. I just downed my pint and said that I'd leave the two of them to get to know each other a bit better, I tried to give a knowing wink but I think it came off a bit sleazy. Little My gave a shy giggle and I felt a wee bit sorry for her. I hope they're hitting it off now.

Nanny Boo Boo and Me have a Talk

Nanny Boo Boo asked me to call down to hers after work today. She had a cup of tea and nice buns all laid out when I came in.

She said that My Protege had been round balling his wee eyes out about how I was a big puff and sitting in front of the TV drunk in women's clothes and she hit him a clash round the face and told him to mind his own fucking business.

I knew Nanny Boo Boo would be cool about it even though some older fuckers can be right squares about that sort of thing. She said whatever I did was cool and that it was my own business and she could get me some nice tasty stuff or even kinky negligees out of her club book if I fancied it. I said thanks but I thought that might become awkward if I couldn't keep up the payments.

She said that My Protege was a wee wanker but that's just because of the age of him and she hasn't forgotten about what he did to the cats arses with bangers and she told him that if it wasn't for me My Protege would be selling his arse on the streets for freedbased cocaine and soda pop, and no one would touch the spotty wee bastard. She told him so, but she said that if he came around to my tranny ways then he'd be a successful man when he grows up.

This made me happy. Then she asked me if I'd a girl name for when I wore my clothes. I said Lily but this is balls. I don't go in for that shit. I'm just a man in tight spandex.

Busted in Drag

So there I was downing a full bottle of whiskey, wearing the oul drag and watching X-Factor on Saturday night, when I looks out the window and sees My Protege and one of his wee wanker mates standing outside.

My Protege had a face like beetroot (he's a big beetroot head at him but anyway) and his mate was pishing himself and shouting "he's so gay!"

"Here you wee bastard, come on in and my dog will eat you for saying that."

"I'm not going into your house, you're gay!" he shouted.

I opened the front door and walked out all Get Carter and said:

"Battle Cat eat this wee wanker."

Battle Cat ran out woofing and the wee fucker ran off. In truth Battle Cat would have just licked him but he wasn't to know and didn't stick around to find out.

"He's right," shouted My Protege "you're a fruit," and he ran off crying.

Fuck him. I just find it comfy.

Fuck Work It's The Weekend

That's it for another shite week, after next I'm in the call centre proper, so fuck that. I'm going to get pished with the last penny I have and after that I'll be thieving until the wage packet come in. Yeow!

Getting To Know My Cellmates

Now Hoors Bastard is gone I've been able to start getting to know the rest of the group.

It isn't pretty.

While they're are no Hoors Bastards they mostly seem to have problems of their own.

Only today Little My was sitting talking about how at night she also works in an off-licence. She said this like it was something to be proud of, working all the time. I was close to telling her I spent the past year sitting on my hole smoking crack but I didn't want to be the new Hoors Bastard so I just nodded and said: "that's nice."

That's starting to be my new catchphrase, there's another guy who works there and he says he's the baddest rapper in the game, he started spitting out all this shit about shooting people and rolling up the Ardone with the crips. He keeps trying to talk in rhyme. Little My thinks he's a genius. He thinks she looks like a gnome. It'll all end in tears, hopefully both of theirs.

Bye Bye Hoors Bastard and Fuck You to the Dole

Hoors Bastard started a conversation with me about music. I told him that I liked hip hop and R and B and he started all this shite about how I must be gay because Techno was the only thing that real men listened to.

I told him that he was sum craic and he had a big happy grin pasted all over his wobbly fat face all day, right up until our trainer told him he'd balled up his last test and he was out of the game.

He sat in the reception crying and told the trainer he'd get his da to come up and slap him on the bake. I'm glad to see the back of the fucker. Him and his sum craic and his happy hardcore collection. He'll need it now he's back on the dole queue. Speaking of which I went down there and asked for my £300. You see if you're on the dole for 6 months and then you get a job they'll give you £100 and the housing will give you £200 until you get your first wage. It's really a year but they're sneaky bastards about this. Anyway I had my dole cut off for two days a few months ago (long story) and because of this they say I haven't been receiving it for a whole year. Fucking bastards the lot of them. I hope Hoors Bastard turns their heads with his craic from now until they drop dead of being bastards.

Call Centres Make Me Want To Smoke Crack

November is a miserable month, I'm all trying to keep things street and at work we're being told how to fleece people. See in all the contracts there's these wee clauses (not my work one, the ones that customers sign up to) and they say that customers aren't allowed money back if they don't want our products anymore but in court they could get it back (that was a struggle). This is bullshit, we're supposed to sit and say "read the small print (and weep)" and why should we, it's not as if we get any richer by ripping them off, I'm on a fixed hourly rate that will increase every year slightly below inflation.

I didn't know half this shit until some dude in the training started spouting it out. He wasn't there by the end of the day. I wish it had of been the fat hoors bastard because he's just caught on that one of the other guys is gay and he's started making all these really bad gay jokes and when no one laughs he says "What are yous like, I'm just being some craic!" Dunno about craic, I'd prefer a bit of crack after the money comes in.

Then when someone else says something properly funny he just sits with a big grumpy face and tries to outdo them with a big sweary gay joke, whoors bastard that he is.

Work is Hard Work

Sorry I haven't been around for a few weeks. My new job has been taking up a lot of my time (it and Mafia Wars).

The new job is not much to write home about (or write here about). I'm stuck in a training group of boring bastards. One fat fucker walked in on the first day and said: "Has anyone here got the last name Campbell?" this wee guy says "Aye, me," then the first tool says: "Yeow! Soupy." What a whoors bastard. It's enough to make me want to start smoking crack again.

I haven't had time to see anyone and I've been too pissed off to write this up. Was getting a job the right decision?

It gets worse, because I started after a certain date (not saying which one because I don't want anyone at work knowing I write slabbery things about them online) I won't get paid until the end of next month. Fuck that. It seems I'm going to have to go on the rob or die!