enerally, I try to be a nice person. I even try to be polite to telesales people – it’s not their fault they have an irritating job to do, and they’re being paid a pittance to do it. But I’m afraid I fail when it comes to Sky TV telesales. They call me at least once a fortnight, and every time I tell them I’m not interested, and ask them to stop calling me. And a week or so later I’ll get another call. And I tell them I’m still not interested, and getting less and less interested with every call I get, because the constant pestering is so incredibly irritating.
I really don’t see the logic of this kind of spam calling. Surely they must keep some record of who they’ve called and what the response was? And surely their clever marketing people must realise that if someone says no to your product, and you call them back a week later and offer it to them again, they’ll get annoyed? And that making potential customers annoyed is not going to endear them to your company? I wouldn’t mind if they were calling every six months or so, but it seriously is every week or two. It’s got to the point that I reckon even if they offered me a free lifetime subscription I’d turn them down on principle, just because they’ve irritated me so much.
And unfortunately, it’s the poor telesales workers, who have no say in who they have to call, who bear the brunt of my annoyance. Tonight’s caller got as far as “Hi, I’m Keiran and I’m calling from Sk..” before he got a very terse “I said I’m not interested, stop calling” and the phone slammed down . Sorry Keiran, I’m sure you’re a very nice person and didn’t deserve that, but you work for the most irritating company in the history of telesales, and your bosses aren’t available for me to slam the phone down on.
o Sideshow Bob is now Sir Bob, apparently for services to “looking good on TV”. It certainly can’t be for services to Christchurch – he and his council did nearly as much damage to this city as the earthquakes themselves. But of course it’s very much in the government’s interests to keep up the pretence that the disaster was handled well and recovery is racing ahead, so it makes sense that they’d want to hand our ex-mayor a knighthood for his wonderful job. Still had me spitting when I read the news this morning though. And even more so at the thought of how even more insufferable Jo Nicholls-Parker will be now that she can call herself “Lady Parker”. Grrr.
The rest of the day was much more pleasant than that rude awakening. Harvestbird and the two mini-Harvestbirds (Harvestchicks? No, that doesn’t sound at all appropriate…) and I went on an outing to the playground in the gardens, where I happily sat and read in the sun for a while, while they were overwhelmed by the choices and the hundreds of other children, and declared it was time to go home much more quickly than we’d planned. But all was not lost – we stopped off to pick up some lunch and some cake, and went back to Harvestbird’s to consume them in peace. Well, mostly peace – the girls have suddenly decided I’m their new best friend, after being wary of me up until now, so I spent the afternoon reading them books (or at least, providing a running commentary as the smaller mini-Harvestbird sat on my knee and turned pages at random) and being educated in the mysteries of Blue’s Clues (well, sort of – all I managed to gather was that invisible paw prints are involved somehow, and it was very important that I had a notebook on me). Oh, and apparently my name is now “Jenga” – close enough, I suppose.
It was a lovely afternoon though, and Harvestbird and I did manage to snatch some adult conversation in between the storytimes.
I still haven’t managed to decide on which way to sew those blocks together for the quilt. A fat lot of help you lot were, too – so far between here, LJ, and Flickr I think opinion was pretty equally divided between four of the possibilities. Looks like I’ll just have to bite the bullet and make a decision myself. Maybe tomorrow…
And now, suddenly, it’s the end of the year. I have no exciting plans for tonight (I was invited to a New Year’s party, but as it’s out at Little River it would have involved staying the night out there, and the whole concept of the typical Kiwi drunken New Year’s Eve has never appealed to me greatly as it is, and even less so when I’d be trapped with no way of leaving early). I may not even bother staying up to see the New Year in unless my book proves particularly gripping. Don’t I sound old and boring? 😉
here is a woman at work who thinks she is my great friend. In fact, I find her a bit of a pain, but my polite tolerance is apparently interpreted by her as close friendship. Anyway, she’s also got it into her head that I am utterly bereft and lonely ever since the separation and in need of comfort. So whenever she sees me she asks in a deeply sympathetic tone how I’m coping, and no matter how cheerfully I reply that I’m doing great and happier than I’ve been in years, she still reads it as me putting a brave face on things. She also keeps inviting me to her church, saying things like “I know you’re not religious, but it’s a great way to meet people”, and telling me about the special group they have for divorced people (yeah, a Christian meat market, that’s really going to be my scene – I think I’d rather stick my head in a bucket of wasps).
I suspect the problem is that she is one of those unfortunate women whose only aim in life is to acquire a man (and of course makes her desperation so obvious that she never succeeds), and imagines that everyone else is the same, so she can’t cope with the idea that I’m perfectly happy on my own, thank you.
Today she baled me up at a College event and spent ages quizzing me on what I was doing for Christmas, and did I have family coming, or would I spend the day with friends, deeply concerned that I might, horror of horrors, be alone on Christmas! She didn’t quite know how to respond when I said I might invite some friends round if I felt like it, but actually I kind of liked the idea of just spending the day alone with a good book. I’m sure by now she’s twisted that round in her head into some sort of desperate cry for help – I just hope she doesn’t decide to pop round for a visit on Christmas Day to “rescue” me from my terrible loneliness…