ITV

You Are Shit!

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Now, I'm not a massive football fan. I don't watch Pompey play, I don't follow the premier league. But when England play, I get a little bit more involved.

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I wasn't at work yesterday so after shopping and lunch with The Steffi and The Gary, we went round to a friends house for a BBQ and football game. I must admit, we all got a little bit drunk on some weird wine/amaretto/fruit juice mix.

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Then the football was on. England were chasing the ball around as the USA kept control and then, four minutes in...ITV played adverts!

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What the?

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After about 30 seconds, the action came back and the group of us watched as Gerrard celebrated a goal.

Well done ITV HD. You stopped the game to advertise yourself and made many people miss Englands first goal. Congratulation!

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I know I shouldn't be bothered but when your in a room with a few (slightly drunk) People who are all passionate about it, you kind of get swept up into it all. And when ITV do that, you suddenly become the biggest England supporter in the world and want to through your red and white face paint pots at the TV.

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So Green let in a goal. So the ref gave out millions of yellow cards, so the American with the upside-down head won every header, none of that pissed me off more than ITV.

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ITV you are rubbish. 4 years we wait and in 4 minutes, you ruin it. Ta.

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End of rant

BAH!

Hello, I need some help.

Of course madam.

*Pause*

Well?

Well, What's the problem?

I need to make a complaint.

Ok, what about?

*Longer pause*

Erm, I'd like to speak to a grown up?!

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Ooh, that got me goat. The fact I've had builders in over the weekend who have left my shop units in the wrong places, the fact I've got a HUGE pile of paperwork to do, the fact that my PC keeps crashing, the fact that I didn't sleep last night, have all been pushed down the 'pissing me off' list and you have just hit the top spot.

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Congratulations.

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I'll call Someone to come help you.

O.K

*Make phone call, store manager comes, sorts out customer.*

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Customer then picks up a card and brings it to the till.

Erm, Sorry madam, I'm not old enough to sell you that card. If you'd like to take your purchase to another till point. Thank You.

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Yeah! Cow!

Britains Got...too many street dance acts!

Because of this, I've decided to invent my own BGT finals, one without a twirling dog and a band of Justin Beiber mini clones.

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And kicking off tonight LIVE final is, THE WRONG ROAD.

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We need the A619. So we turn left out of our house in Chesterfield and down towards a massive roundabout. Turn all the way round and head back down the road we were already on. The A619 is indeed the road our holiday house was located.

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Next tonight, Performing live, it's STEFFI'S DISAPPEARING KEYS.

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We decided it was a fun Idea to walk from Bakewell to Buxton on and old abandoned railway. Great idea. So both cars drove to Bakewell, all passengers disembarked. Both cars then drove to Buxton. We dropped one car off there (To get into at the end of the walk) and drove the other back to Bakewell before setting off on the 8-actually it's 12- mile hike.

4 miles in, we're walking through a wee village when out of nowhere we hear "F**KINGHELL!!!"

We turn to find a distraught Steffi holding her hands up in the air and shouting. "What a tit, We're walking to get my car. Where are my car keys? In Trevs car."

Well, done, the dark horse of the competition. The grannies out there will love it.

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Ok now this next act is something you shouldn't try at home. Please welcome, POOH BREADS

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Yep, Pooh Breads. Like Pooh Sticks but with...well...bread really. Four of us played this game. You take a quarter of a slice f bread n hurl it into the river. first quarter to float to the weir is the winner. The current can be fierce and there's ducks and fish that could grab your quarter at anytime. Sheer adrenaline rush.

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Next up, an act that needs to introduction, It's AUDIO TOUR VOICE OVER

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Bolsova castle. £8 to get in so it had better be worth the money. We got given some walkie talkie looking things that gave us a virtual tour of the castle. A northern man told us  'personal history' "I can remember it now, all the hustle bustle, food going into the dining room, kitchen staff passing out from the heat, tourist plodding around 400 years on"

But it was the historical voice over that made it. The same voice that provides you with stations when on a train. The same voice that helps you home on your Sat Nav. Only this voice was...raunchy. "If you continue walking along the wall, you will see the stables...and I'm wearing nothing but Chanel Number 5." The Statues surrounding this fountain are made from marble...and have been very naughty."

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OK, now, it's been in the press a lot this week and may catch on as a dance trend. It's THE PENGUIN

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Steffi wore new flip flops to the shops and the soles were still quite slippy. Driving was a bit difficult due to her foot slipping off the clutch. So when we parked, she got out and started to shuffle around the car park with her arms held slightly away from her body. She shuffled in little circles, zig zags and spirals. She looked like a small penguin that had been left to it's own devices and had invented the game, 'both feet need to stay on the floor at all times.'

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And, the final act of the night, It's BRITAINS GOT TALENT.

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Britain does have talent. It does. But it also has a million street dance groups, Too many spoilt brats and way too many adverts.

Each act is 2 minutes long. 8 acts a night, that makes 16 minutes of performance. Add on a small intro and judges reactions, I make that 32 minutes of program. How the hell can you make it last and hour and a half? Seriously!!!

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So, the lines are now OPEN. The winner will be announced in a half an hour program with a 4 minute concept after Harry Hill's TV burp. See you then.

Crisp Episode

So I'm on the 700 bus, somewhere between Havant and Bosham. It's 11 o'clock in the morning and I'm reading.

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The book is 'One Day' and it's rather good. I'm quite (well, very) distracted by the storyline. So much so that I can't tear my eyes away.

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Here's where the story really starts.

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Without looking away, I open a bag of pickled onion Monster Munch with one hand and start to nibble through. Taking out a paw shaped crisp, popping it in my mouth and repeating as necessary. All the while reading about Dexter and Emma. I notice (without looking) that the next Monster Munch is rather large, so I bite a bit off. As I do, another piece breaks off and fall onto the bus floor. I see it out of the corner of my eye, almost in slow motion, bounce off the blue and orange seat and hit the floor with a quiet smack noise.

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What do I do?

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Do I just leave it there? If I do, someone might tread on it and smoosh (is that a real word?) it into the floor. It's not going to roll away so it's not going anywhere. The old guy in the seat opposite is looking at me. I'm refusing to take my eyes off the book. 

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Do I pick it up? Will it make me look like a hungry tramp? I'll have to lean out into the aisle to retrieve it. What if the bus suddenly breaks and I end up falling out of my seat? By now about 30 seconds have passed. Is it too late to do anything now? I still wont' look away from my book. Scared of the judgement being passed by the old guy in the beige jacket.

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This shouldn't be bugging me this much. It's hardly a life altering situation. Just pick up the poxy Monster Munch. Quickly, whilst the bus is stationary. NOW! Oops, bus is moving again and...Someone is coming up the stairs. Oh god, pick up the crisp, pick up the crisp, PICK UP THE CRISP!

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Beige is still watching me. I'm staring blankly at a page that hasn't been turned for ages. How slow can I pretend to read? The woman is walking down the aisle, closer and closer. Footsteps beating on the floor. She's going to tread on the crisp. Why didn't I pick it up in the first 5 seconds? It's too late now. No hope. the Monster Munch is going to end up a small pile of crumbs!

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GET OVER IT!

PICK IT UP!

MAKE A DECISION!

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I lean out and quick like a cat, pick up the crisp. Beige tuts at me, I think he's half expecting me to eat it. Instead I hold it in my hand, triumphant. I made a decision. I am a god! I...Have nowhere to put the remains of the crisp.

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Now, that's another story. I'm sure you're too distressed from this episode to know what happened after I picked it up. I know I was.

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Hardly edge of your seat gritty, but still, made me stressed and paranoid.

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I think my priorities might be slightly wrong.

Customers

Hi there

Hello, I want some invitations

O.K, do you want plain ones or ones that say when and where etc?

Invitations!

Yes, what kind? ones that just say invitation or..

I said I want invitations, are you stupid?

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Well clearly the evidence would suggest I am. Silly me, my psychic powers just aren't up to scratch. BAD MCFARLEY!

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I do love my new job, don't get me wrong. It's just that there's a very affluent streak in most of my customers. they are the kind that are always right and proper. They (or probably their husbands) work hard for their money and have the right to act however they like when in a shop.

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BAH!

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Ah, psychic ability coming back. You're thinking 'What's the point of this post?' I'll tell you.

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I (and a far few of my friends) work in retail. It's an honest job and put money in the bank account and cheerios in the breakfast bowl. We work hard, sometimes for very long days. We are always polite, punctual and friendly. We always try our hardest to provide you with what you need. We never argue back. We are humble folk who are just trying to keep our heads above financial water.

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So please stop being so bloody rude!

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New rules

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• 
  
  If you are talking on your phone, (or even worse, begin a conversation) during a transaction, I will walk away from the till or serve another customer until you have finished.
• 
  
  If you throw the money onto the till, Then stand with your hand open ready for change, I will throw the change and receipt onto the till point in return. Hoping that the 10 pence piece will ricochet and hit you on the nose
• 
  
  If I say we don't have what you are looking for, and you go and ask another member of staff the same question, I will come over and ask you if my answers was unsatisfactory and demand an answer.
• 
  
  If, when asked if you need a bag, you say 'Of course I need one' then put the bag in your VERY LARGE BAG, I will ask for the bag back!
• 
  
  If, at the end of a transaction, you walk away without even the slightest look of regard or thanks, I will shout very loudly 'HAVE A NICE DAY THEN, BYE BYE!'

Don't say I didn't warn you.

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Rant over. Thanks for listening. Have a nice day, bye bye.

Good Things And Boo Boos

Here's an easy guide on what to do and what NOT to do when conducting a stock take.

DO: Arrive on time and come prepared

DON'T: Arrive half an hour late, then complain you have no change for parking.

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DO: Treat the store manager with respect.

DON'T: take it out on the store manager when they say they can't open the till to change up a ten pound note.

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DO: Be polite to both your staff and the staff of the shop you are stock checking

DON'T: Be racist 'They're probably lost, They're Asian!' Homophobic 'You sell...Mrs and Mrs card?!' *roll eyes in disgust* Patronising 'Erm, now shouldn't you really be serving your customers right now?'

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DO: Remember that the store manager can report you for incompetence

DON'T: Be so slow that the store manager has to keep the store closed until midday!

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DO: Check all equipment before starting the stock check

DON'T: Check 12 bays of cards before turning on the computer to find that the information has not been sent correctly

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DO: Try very quickly to remedy computer problem

DON'T: Laugh and say 'Oh, it looks like We're going to have to start again'

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DO: Stay focus on the task in hand

DON'T: Allow two members of staff to go and get a coffee so that they can gain change for the car park.

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DO: Remember that the store manager has been awake since five, has been in the store since six and is still owed seven hours.

DON'T: Finish the stock take at half two in the afternoon and sarcastically say to store manager 'At least you can go home early!'

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DO: Remain professional through out stock take

DON'T: Gossip about a stock take in another part of the store.

DON'T: Act like you're better than store manager just because you came from Sussex and store manager comes from Portsmouth

DON'T: Treat store manager like a child

DON'T: Keep telling store manager to 'Calm down, at least you don't have to deal with customers'

DON'T: Be surprised is store manager wants to slap you stupid with a wooden spoon.

DON'T: Ask why a wooden spoon!

Time capsule

Gary spent yesterday at Nan and Grandad's house. Actually, I suppose it's just Nan's now isn't it. He spent a grey drizzly Saturday filling bin bags and boxes with a life time. Clearing out Grandad's room.

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Just off of the kitchen in my grandparents house is a small room. It was once a bedroom for my youngest uncle, then it turned into my Grandad's room. Housing a PC, records, cross stitches, magazines and old wall paper. He would spend most of his spare time in there and when we visited on Sundays, he was only ever in his garden or in his room. It was his 'den'.

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And now his den is empty of everything except a computer and a chair. His books, vinyls, crafts, photos are all now in boxes along my hall way. I came home from work yesterday and found them sitting there, wanting to be looked at again, after months of being left alone.

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Steffi and Gary showed me pictures from before I was even thought about. Photos of them as a couple younger than me. My nan in a flat cap, my uncle with thick black hair, my grandparents living room with the same carpet I played with my toys on. All these images captured forever and left in a time capsule next to my nan's kitchen.

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That's when I had one of those moments where the room goes fuzzy. I realised again that Grandad was gone. And I freaked out a little. I think it's because Grandad was phased out of our lives. We went from seeing him a lot, to seeing him sometimes, to rarely seeing him at all to a time where he was too ill to want us to see him. And I think it's because of the phasing out that I forget sometimes he's gone. A little part of me still thinks 'He's in the home, sleeping, dreaming of golf.'. It's hard to accept the fact that he's not going to come out of that small room next time I visit the house.

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These yellowing photos have out lives the person that took them. He's left his memories for others to take care of.

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It's just heart breaking to realise once more how he himself is just another 'memory'