Day Two

I hate it here already.
That’s a little extreme, but there is certainly a feeling of ‘what the hell is going on?’ with this place. The people are ok, in general for the twelve seconds I’ve seen them, but I didn’t exactly make the best impression on the girl from Preston. I should really get the names, but there is an inherent part of me that just doesn’t care. As I got up today, I went to the bathroom to get in the shower.



I showered and upon leaving scared the crap out of the Preston girl who had no idea who I was or what I was doing there? This wasn’t the best way to introduce myself and thankfully I was dressed and not just in a towel for even more embarrassment. She seemed generally freaked out, which seems a bit harsh, but it could be worse... she could have thought I was an intruder and tried to attack me, or she could have been insanely beautiful. She was neither, very plain looking and not a sharp knife in sight.
Thankfully the thought of whether she was ‘hot’ or not was no longer an issue due to the fact that I was now ‘A Boyfriend’ and as such have my ‘Boyfriend Shield’ on. This is a very good device that is so simple, it’s perfect. You simply take any woman in the entire universe. Any woman:
Top Ten Women Guys Seem To Go For... For No Good Reason
1.) Cheryl Cole.
2.) Megan Fox.
3.) Lucy Pinder.
4.) Keeley Hazell.
5.) Katy Perry.
6.) Britney Spears.
7.) Jessica Alba.
8.) Jessica Simpson.
9.) Beyonce.
10.) Kim Kardashian.
These women can all be batted back with a simple ‘She isn’t Claire’. This is what I did for over eight years with Linda. This is how I survive as a perfect boyfriend. I don’t fuck around and if I do look, I have this simple, foolproof, failsafe initiative in place. When men fuck up it’s usually because they simply do not have the sheer will to create something like this. Now you can sit and blahdiblah me about whether Claire is sexier than Megan Fox or whoever, but the simple fact is I don’t want Megan Fox, I want Claire, I have Claire and Megan Fox is not Claire. It doesn’t matter how many GQ/FHM etc shoots she does half naked showing her stupid tattoos that cover her body like she has spent half her life getting branded in jail. She isn’t Claire.
Going to work today was sooooooooooooooooooo good, for one reason and one reason alone. Twenty Minute Walk. Now, before today, my commute to work consisted of:
1.) A Twenty Minute Walk to the bus stop
2.) A First Bus Journey which lasted One Hour and Forty-Seven Minutes
3.) A Second Bus Journey which lasted Twenty-Two Minutes
4.) A Fifteen Minute Walk from the bus stop to work
All in all, almost three hours of journeying before I had even lifted a finger to do any work? As you can imagine, this wasn’t exactly the ideal situation, but it was all I could do. And that’s just the journey to work!
Today? Twenty minutes. I leisurely walked to work. I got there with ten minutes to spare, unlike my usual almost, but not quite late arrival. I had enough time to make myself a ‘brew’ and sit down, before the day of work was to begin. Perfect.
I guess I should make more of that word ‘brew’. Yes, this office is possibly as Northern as you can get. Now being from Liverpool I am used to little pieces of slang that litter the Scouse language, despite the headaches some of them cause. Scran. Jibbed. Avie... and so on... I defy anyone not from Liverpool who can decipher those words without at least a translator to hand. In this office a cup of hot beverage is ‘a brew’. Now I could be pedantic and say that it should really only be used for a cup of tea, but as you can also brew coffee I will let that one go. It’s funny, because the first time someone said it to me I honestly thought they were joking, it was one of those words you very rarely hear like ‘sorry’ from an MP fiddling with their expense reports. But no, this is what everyone says.
There is a feeling that I should explain my job, but really all you need to know is that it is a call centre for incoming calls. You got that image in your head? That’s all it is. Thankfully, it’s not sales. It’s not the horrendous feeling of every call having to ‘sell sell sell or you’ll be fired fired fired’. Instead, it was just picking up calls all day for the five hours of work and then logging off and going home. Yes, it is only five hours which I suppose is classed as part-time hours, but the money is such that it beats a minimum wage job into a bloody mush as you can easily work the basic twenty five hours a week and make almost as much, if not more, than those who spend thirty seven and a half hours having to deal with customers face to face and finding out which of your phones that were constructed by thirteen year old Vietnamese children for 10p an hour to force onto a hapless passerby for hundreds of pounds worth of a contract that they don’t need.
The workplace is seemingly full to the brim with women. If I was single this would probably be the equivalent of one of Dante’s Circles of Hell. I’m guessing Purgatory. The girls in the office are all young... far too young, with some who have not even celebrated their 18th birthday yet... God I feel so old at times... and mostly either single or attached and spend most of the day telling stories about what a ‘loser’; their boyfriends are. It’s Nicole and Odo all over again. Thankfully, my Boyfriend Shield masks all this crap, so all I have to do is keep my head down and learn as much as I can to do the job competently.
Which I am doing... I think... Maybe...It’s just a bit difficult to know. But I do know when I’m fucking up. They are quite happy to come and tell me when I’m doing that. It’s the good stuff that they seem to have a problem identifying. I was told on the first day ‘No news, is good news’ and I just hope that’s true and it’s not just a case of one day I’ll have a meeting with my Team Leader who will then spend hours going through all the ways I’ve been fucking up, followed by my old friend Mr. P45.
The odd part of today, was how relaxed I felt. Usually, I’d be clock watching, making sure that I’d be up and out at exactly 17.45 as one minute after may result in a missed bus or a 200 meter sprint to the bus stop, praying to all known Gods to stop it, followed nine times out of ten by me cursing all those Gods and the bus driver who obviously saw me running, but had no soul.
I logged out, stopped for a moment to chat to one of my co-workers, something I couldn’t do before and then went for my twenty minute walk home. On my way, I called Claire and felt a bit... not home sick... Is Claire-sick too corny? I know it is, but hell that’s what I’m going with. Kinda wish that I could have been coming home to her. In time. Well, it can’t come all at once; it has to go in steps, like Tony Montana said ‘Money, Power, Women’. I wish it could be as simple as that, mine has gone on to include so many steps I feel more like Dorothy than Scarface:
My Top Ten Steps to a Happier Life
1.) First you get the Job
2.) Then you get the Money
3.) Then you get the Savings
4.) Then you get your Own Place
5.) Then you get the Driving Lessons
6.) Then you pass the Test
7.) Then you get the Savings
8.) Then you get the Car
9.) Then you get a Better Job
10.) Then you get the Woman.
I guess these should be explained:
1.) First you get the Job
OK, well obviously the job is important. Without the job you can’t do any of the rest. This seems to be the starting point of all steps to success.
2.) Then you get the Money
With the job comes the money. Granted it may only be minimum wage or not the greatest wage in the world, but it will still get you the money.
3.) Then you get the Savings
Saving is important. Anyone who lives from pay check to pay check and can’t save something is going to have problems. I think the key word there is ‘something’. Sure it could only be £10. It’s still £10. It’s still something. It’s still something in an emergency. It is still enough money to put electricity in the meter or buy some food or pay for a taxi home. It’s what I would like to call a ‘Buffer’.
4.) Then you get your Own Place
Everyone needs somewhere they can be themselves. A place you can call home and even if you are sharing it with three other people you haven’t really met beyond a ‘hello’, it’s still somewhere you can be you.
5.) Then you get the Driving Lessons
Sure it’s easy to say ‘Get yourself a car’, but if you can’t actually drive then what’s the point. This is a bit like when people say you should ‘swim with dolphins’ before you die, forgetting about the fact you may need to learn to swim first.
6.) Then you pass the Test
Those who have followed my story will already know why steps 5 and 6 are about as likely as me winning first place in a tallest person competition. But I still have to try.
7.) Then you get the Savings for the Car
See Step Three, only this time the Savings are specifically for something.
8.) Then you get the Car
You got your licence. You got the money. Just the car left.
9.) Then you get a Better Job
With the car, it means that you are no longer tied down by where you can or can’t actually apply for a job. So now you can spread your wings and let’s face it how many jobs have you seen that have the phrase ‘must know how to drive’ in there... usually at the end, like a punch in my gut?
10.) Then you get the Woman.
The fact I have Claire does seem to suggest I jumped a few steps. Hell, I jumped almost all of them. I guess it just proves the system isn’t perfect, but at least we can all agree you shouldn’t buy the car without passing your test and you shouldn’t take the test without some lessons.
Getting inside, the house was eerily quiet, apart from the faint hum of the washing machine. I entered my room, changed and decided to have some cereal. With no internet, there was simply nothing for me to do. I could have tried to do something, sort out a few of the boxes, but it just felt like a ‘what’s the point?’ moment for me, as I knew this wouldn’t be somewhere I would want to stay for more than a few months and so why bother making it home? Why bother making friends with these people who may or may not like me. I went to the fridge and there was a note on the door. I shuddered inside. I could feel a disturbance in the Force as I could feel these people would be that kind of people. The not read thus:
‘Dear new housemate. The top section of the fridge is yours. Thanks. The House.’
Well, that wasn’t so bad, though I did spend the rest of the night wondering if it really was the house who wrote that note?