Technically it's Just another Job

OK so this one week (the one in this story, not this actual week), I began a new job as a Technical Support Adviser, working in a Call Centre so that was a good start to the week.

On the first day I figured how hard can this be? The day began, I answered the phone all confident 'Good morning this is Technical Support; I can cure all your technical problems. You name it, I can tell you how to fix it by simply reading this automated encyclopedic script, this fountain of all technical knowledge that has presented itself in front of me. Now mere non-technical mortal, how I can help you today?'

The day began rather rapidly with people all over the country calling up to say their Internet had stopped working. They had no idea what has happened to it but it has stopped working. It worked last night when they went to bed but now they've woken up their Internet has remained in a deep slumber, refusing to rise before its first cup of Columbian Roast. After an investigation they find a load of agents have just been sitting at their desk clicking away switching off people's Internet randomly while expressing their sheer delight in their work 'wheeeeeee!'. When the customer says their Internet isn't working is greeted smugly by the operator 'Yes I know'.

This particular problem required some technical-bobbety-thingy kind of change. A girl sitting beside me who was also new asked me why we couldn't just make the change ourselves. The reply came from a manager who explains 'oh no, they don't give you that kind of power. That would be far too dangerous.'

I was confused. I thought the department I was in was technical support. Suddenly I began wondering if they'd lied on the advert. I started asking people around me, what do we do exactly? People phone us up for technical support, they ask completely useless question to which we give just as useless responses, 'Yes, no, no, nee-eey'. I have no idea why we would happen to sound like knights that say 'nee' but that's what happens. Then after all these questions, I had to tell the customer 'I'm sorry sir but I can't help you further this will require special advanced technical support.' This is technical support of a much higher calibre, the levels of support that are unheard of to the regular Joe. It makes it sound as though this mere problem has now become an MI6 mission. They ask where the case is going and I have to tell them (and this is on the script too) 'I'm sorry sir that's classified information. If I tell you, I'm afraid I'd have to kill you.' Then, as you stroke your white Persian cat perched rather awkwardly on the arm of your cheap replica office chair, it falls to the floor for the 26th time today. 'Bollocks!' I said rather loudly, forgetting I was still talking to a customer. So after that incident I was marched into the manager's office and sacked for bad language. Ah well at least I lasted 2 hours, that's twice as long as the last job I worked at. I was only 59 minutes in at B&Q when I was given my marching orders. A guy came into the store asking for decking. I wasn't taking any chances so I threw the first punch. Knocked him clean out. I thought I'd done a pretty good job but the manager didn't think so.

One of these days I'll find my niche. I took her to the supermarket one day and came back without her. Oh I meant niche, not niece. Forget I said anything about that *whistles innocently*. For now I'll try to stick to my day job, it might stop me getting into so much trouble.

All Our Roads Are Going to Pot

I know it's not just me that thinks this but are ALL our roads going to pot? As a cyclist my eye is trained in the fine art of detecting pot holes, not that it takes a genius to see them. Let's face it, it's easy enough to spot gaping chasms, cracks, dips, troughs, holes and overzealous drains, from a mile off and our roads are full of them.

With such a pothole-keen eye, I quickly spotted one such small and easily avoidable crack next to a drain, on a busy road. I'd never had any problems avoiding it as I'd taken the same route for well over a year and knew it well. On a fateful day last week I was cycling along as I always do when I was struck by surprise. They'd filled that particular pothole in! So many of our roads are riddled with gaping chasms of perilous danger and yet of all the atrocities of the other roads, this mediocre, menial, even harmless, hole was the one to meet its demise. Why this one? This puzzled me incessantly for the remainder of the journey as I tried to imagine the road maintenance committee having a meeting to discuss the most perilous holes that required attention. I bet none of them would have suspected that tiny hole would one day top the list of priorities. It's so small it looks as though it may have in fact been filled in by a random traveller with a home-made DIY pothole filler kit. Maybe it wasn't even acknowledged by the road maintenance committee at all. Some obsessive-compulsive person finally snapped. I know it intrigued me every day that I had to avoid it. Maybe it was a fellow cyclist who was tired of having to swerve to avoid it on his daily commute. Driven to near-madness he whipped up a DIY pothole repair kit and set off on a mission. There just can't be any other explanation for it. Surely the council couldn't have, in their brilliant foresight, have isolated this one small defect and flagged it for urgent action. When I say urgent I mean within 2-3 years of it being reported of course.

Ultimately I know we can't control the state of our roads, the council do their bit by being completely useless, and the rest is up to us to use what little common sense we have left to carefully manoeuvre round them in the best way possible. So if you're feeling particularly wound up by one particular part of road, there may be good news for you. You no longer need to be a mere passenger in this ordeal. Whip up your own pothole-fixing DIY kit and you too can combat the roads of tomorrow, today!