Yeah I’m having a rant. Tacky but hey.
I work in a call center for a charity in between terms at University. I’m basically the girl you ring up to verbally abuse for not collecting your charity bag of unwanted clothing. I have come to accept that it is MY fault, yes ME, MY actual fault that your charity bag was not collected even though you (member of the public) left it hidden behind a Fort Knox arrangement of dustbins or inside the chimney expecting someone to shimmy up the drainpipe or through the hedges to find said bag EVEN THOUGH it clearly, as in crystal clear, states on the bag to leave the bag VISIBLE from the road as unfortunately the charity does not have a department in research and development of x-ray vision and very few of our drivers are psychic! (Isn’t it terrible I wrote that sentence so long with hardly any punctuation, would’ve ruined it to be fair)
Any way back to the Grandmas. Today was another of those days where my skill of “nice voice on phone while pulling faces and drawing pictures of me killing you” came into play several times. One old dear in particular rang literally 15 times to make sure it was still being picked up.
There are days were the concept behind Logon’s Run are deliciously appealing!