I went to my job interview today. It was strangely uneventful. The guy interviewing me was pretty nice. He offered me a tea or a coffee at the start and when it turned out the coffee pot was empty he took me up to the canteen to get one.
The call centre seems chilled out enough. He said that they expect you to get your targets but if you're coming close then they don't mind you having a bit of craic with each other.
I've heard this talk before so I'm not swallowing it yet. I will say that I'm not doing outbound sales again so already it seems a better deal.
I'll find out if I have it tomorrow. Cross your fingers please.
Hot Baby Roy is still off at Gingerella's. It gives me space to wear my drag but it can get a bit lonely. Battle Cat is a great listener but a shit conversationalist.
Showing posts with label Coffee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coffee. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
In the wee small hours.
I haven't been sleeping so well and neither's Fabian Wildman, I got up at 3 last night after only a few hours sleep to find him sitting in the livingroom in a deep trance. I asked him what was wrong and he asked me what was wrong.
He kept repeating everything I said until I rushed out of the room and came back with a baseball bat. He started shouting that he had just been playing a trick.
I told him not to be playing tricks like that because they gave me the diarrhoea.
After we listened to the shipping news me and Fabian decided that since we couldn't sleep we'd sit and spoon coffee into us just to get all jittery. After an hour of scranning coffee we heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, armed with baseball bats.
No one was outside apart from a fat man in a leotard asking where Fabian was. I told him Fabian had died of the influenza during the war. He told me that he was here to pay his respects. He barged in before we could tell him to fuck off. He sat in the living room while Fabian made him cup after cup of coffee. He didn't say anything he just cried for a long time. He had a cake with him which he ate all to himself and never offered us a piece. I didn't want any in case it was poisoned with the deadly mistletoe. Then he said to Fabian that he knew him when he had a different face, and that if another man had to love his wife he was glad it was him. He knew Fabian's love was pure, unlike some other people who just wanted to plough his earth and make him eat the worms. He went to the toilet and didn't come back down. We searched upstairs for him but he was no where to be seen. I hope he isn't hiding in the roofspace. Incase he was I took a carving knife to bed with me. I hope I don't roll over in the middle of the night and stab myself in the guts with it.
He kept repeating everything I said until I rushed out of the room and came back with a baseball bat. He started shouting that he had just been playing a trick.
I told him not to be playing tricks like that because they gave me the diarrhoea.
After we listened to the shipping news me and Fabian decided that since we couldn't sleep we'd sit and spoon coffee into us just to get all jittery. After an hour of scranning coffee we heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, armed with baseball bats.
No one was outside apart from a fat man in a leotard asking where Fabian was. I told him Fabian had died of the influenza during the war. He told me that he was here to pay his respects. He barged in before we could tell him to fuck off. He sat in the living room while Fabian made him cup after cup of coffee. He didn't say anything he just cried for a long time. He had a cake with him which he ate all to himself and never offered us a piece. I didn't want any in case it was poisoned with the deadly mistletoe. Then he said to Fabian that he knew him when he had a different face, and that if another man had to love his wife he was glad it was him. He knew Fabian's love was pure, unlike some other people who just wanted to plough his earth and make him eat the worms. He went to the toilet and didn't come back down. We searched upstairs for him but he was no where to be seen. I hope he isn't hiding in the roofspace. Incase he was I took a carving knife to bed with me. I hope I don't roll over in the middle of the night and stab myself in the guts with it.
Thursday, 15 January 2009
Sometimes I Stumble and Fall
I was sitting in Charlie's Coffee shop on Bradbury Place when Rock and Roll Stephen walked in. He was with some Rock and Roll girl so when I tried to say hi he blanked me.
I sat sipping my coffee and trying to think about what to do for the day but I couldn't help but over hear them.
"I was cool at school, but no one ever gave me credit for it," the girl who looked to be in her twenties was saying. "I was listening to the Libertines before anyone else."
Rock and Roll Stephen just sat pulling a pose that made him look deep and unconcerned.
"Then they all started listening to them but I'd moved on to other cooler bands," she said, with this big smile like she was finally getting validation.
Rock and Roll Stephen turned to look at her. Then he said:
"I never asked you to understand how I keep myself to myself in the crush of the crowd. But all you can say is 'Who cares? It's part of the deal'".
Then she looked at him all amazed like he'd said something so vital. They didn't really make much sense. I know they're fucking Razorlight lyrics and if she was half the musso she claimed to be she'd know that too. Rock and Roll Stephen said he wrote them and was going to put them in a poem he was writing. Then he went on about how he's a Pete Doherty type and if it wasn't for people like her then the Libertines might have given up and Pete and Carl wouldn't have saved his life.
I really wanted to interupt and tell her that I knew Rock and Roll Stephen back when he was seventeen and used to get turned away from The Venue yet and he used to go home and wank over his ma's club books and get caught and get a clash in the face and a burst mouth and say he got it from fighting with street gangs. Lying wee bastard.
I wanted to say this, but how could I? They looked so loved up and they're both wankers so at least they can be wankers at each other and not fuck up someone decent.
I sat sipping my coffee and trying to think about what to do for the day but I couldn't help but over hear them.
"I was cool at school, but no one ever gave me credit for it," the girl who looked to be in her twenties was saying. "I was listening to the Libertines before anyone else."
Rock and Roll Stephen just sat pulling a pose that made him look deep and unconcerned.
"Then they all started listening to them but I'd moved on to other cooler bands," she said, with this big smile like she was finally getting validation.
Rock and Roll Stephen turned to look at her. Then he said:
"I never asked you to understand how I keep myself to myself in the crush of the crowd. But all you can say is 'Who cares? It's part of the deal'".
Then she looked at him all amazed like he'd said something so vital. They didn't really make much sense. I know they're fucking Razorlight lyrics and if she was half the musso she claimed to be she'd know that too. Rock and Roll Stephen said he wrote them and was going to put them in a poem he was writing. Then he went on about how he's a Pete Doherty type and if it wasn't for people like her then the Libertines might have given up and Pete and Carl wouldn't have saved his life.
I really wanted to interupt and tell her that I knew Rock and Roll Stephen back when he was seventeen and used to get turned away from The Venue yet and he used to go home and wank over his ma's club books and get caught and get a clash in the face and a burst mouth and say he got it from fighting with street gangs. Lying wee bastard.
I wanted to say this, but how could I? They looked so loved up and they're both wankers so at least they can be wankers at each other and not fuck up someone decent.
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