Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Working hard to make a living!

Short history lesson: The start of civilised England was when the Romans settled it (missed the East End and certain parts of the Midlands though) and named their new prize - Britannia - which in Roman meant bad teeth. These industrial little Italians were hard working and were building an Empire - complete with white concrete lion statues everywhere, shit loads of concrete roads and extravagant gardens (some things never change - take a look at a few front yards in the Western suburbs when you have a chance).

The Romans had a mighty work ethic (guess somethings do change) and when they left, so did their work ethic. The Brits didn't exactly jump right into the spot left by the Romans, but did go about their little island for some time before deciding to up and start their own empire. My question is, how did they manage to build an empire when they are the laziest race on the planet (I'm sure taking over India had something to do with it - but I can't seem to insert a call centre joke in here anywhere, so I'll just leave it).


It's said waiting in a queue is a national past time. It's not because there are a lot of people waiting for the same thing, but the person serving is just so slow. My bank card took two weeks to arrive, you pack your own groceries at the supermarket (a fact I only learnt after I abused the lady for asking me to do it - 'you want me to f*$ng do what??), and the only reason most scotch is aged 12 years is because no one got off their ass to bottle it when it was ready - Scotch aged eight years is when they have an Aussie working there on his gap year.
London is only go go go, as there are so many foreigners here.

Not Europeans, but people from all over the world. Europe is kind of like that old aunty. Quite old, not really in much of a hurry to doanything, occasionally loses bowl control which starts a war around the international dinner table till they blame it on the dog (insert dictator name). But the rest of the world are like the young nieces and nephews - bouncing around full of energy, and love going over to aunty Europe's house every couple of months because she gives them money and cool toys (well aunty Europe doesn't include Germany - that's more like angry, annoyed Uncle who thinks aunty Europe spoils her little nieces and nephews).

My work times are 9.30 - 5.30, with an hour spent having lunch in the staff cafeteria - not exactly a long haul. And when I say staff cafeteria, I'm not talking three plastic tables and lady named Coleen asking you if you want 'sauce with ya pie love'. The plastic tables are now wood with table clothes and large, high backed chairs. Coleen is replaced by waiters and the pie with sauce was replaced with a tunac steak on a truffle mash today. Yesterday was a chinese dumpling stir fry, the day before was lamb - well you get the picture - all for the princely subsidised sum of £3. Can't buy the parts for that! Do you think the ladies will get suspicious if I invite them out on a date during the week…for lunch…at my work?

Back on to the work. Today I had to deal with with IT (lack of) Support.

Conversation with help desk:
Bart: So what you're telling me is that I've called the wrong department to get my email set up and working?
Git: Nah, you've called the right department, but I can't do it Guv.
Bart: Why?
Git: It's not my job.
Bart: Whose is it?
Git: Not mine.
Bart: But this is the right department.
Git: Yea, just not me.

Ahh, buck passing, up there with Mary Poppins, weekly baths and that manly sport of fox hunting (as foxes are so dangerous they need to be chased down on horse back) as being truly English. That's why the English won the rugby world cup. What other sport do you have where someone gets thrown the ball and in about 0.27 of a second and then they throw it to someone else and say 'no no, you take care of it'.

In fact, I think that's why the English didn't go straight in to empire building when the Romans left. It took several thousand years to find out whose job it was to do something! The entire Dark Ages were simply three guys called Colin, Basil and Angus arguing about who should do something first - then saying sod it and going to have a pint.

1 Comments:

At 9:14 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Looks nice! Awesome content. Good job guys.
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