Tag: RANT

bookmark_borderTwats. A rant.

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RANT 1

Dear Person in the car in front of me.

I’m sure you are very very important and that you must get to work with as much haste as possible, god forbid you waste even the briefest of moments on your journey. However, see all that snow pilled up on your car? No, you probably can’t as you are too busy peering out of the porthole you’ve cleared for yourself on the windscreen.

Well all that snow, pilled up on the roof and sides of your car, is currently dislodging and showering the people driving behind you. Twat. I hope if you have to brake suddenly, and given you can’t really see the road properly I’d say there is a good chance of that happening, that all the snow on your roof doesn’t’ suddenly slide down and completely obscure your view.

Or, you know, perhaps I hope you veer off the road and remove yourself from the gene pool

/RANT 1

RANT 2

Work for a bank? Been budgetting based on your bonus? Isn’t that the opposite of the advice you tell us “idiots wot kno’ nuffink about money”? Twats.

The slow burn of bile started on Sunday morning when Darling stated that the bonuses being paid out to banking staff would be looked at to make sure they aren’t too high.

Not, “Bonuses? Are they mad? We’ve just given them taxpayers money! Screw their bonuses!!”.

Twat.

I’m really really sorry for all those people who work in the banking sector, the people in the branches who didn’t really have much say in any of this*, but the fact remains. The banks fucked up, they went along with schemes they neglected to understand or knew to be unworkable (I’m still not sure which is worse), so why the hell do ANY of them deserve a bonus?

However, undeterred I’m going to be approaching my boss this morning. Unfortunately, having not fucked anything up my chances are slim.

/RANT 2

Ohhhhh, that feels better.

* I’m aware that people working in a branch will have worked hard and be on a bonus related scheme. My problem isn’t with them.

bookmark_borderRANT

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So what’s today? Today is Friday. That’s it, nothing else. Just another working day at the end of another working week.

Except it isn’t. It’s a bank holiday, which has some connection to a religious event, apparently. Obviously upon hearing that jesus had rolled away the giant chocolate egg from in front of his tomb, the bankers of the day took it upon themselves to have a holiday. Hey, why not take the Monday after it as well, they no doubt thought. We could make a long weekend of it, get in some golf maybe, although I hear that new course at Eden is almost completely exclusive…

Today is also the last Friday of the month. The day I get paid. You can see where this is going, can’t you.

I didn’t get paid today. Our finance guys sent off the pay BACS thingydoo-dah at the usual time but for some reason it hasn’t appeared in my bank account, or anyone else using the Bank of Scotland (about 15 of us).

And the bankers are on holiday. Until Tuesday.

Upshot is that I now have to trail into Glasgow to the office to pick up a cash advance to get us through the weekend. Twunting badgeknackers.

bookmark_borderOther places

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I’m about to rant, so before I do…

Go visit Meg, she will make you laugh: not.so.soft.
Go visit Stuart, he will make you think: hydragenic.
Go visit Becky, she’ll make you want to move to France: mybluehouse.
Go visit, Julie, and wonder when she and Leia will mutuate into one wonderous being: accidental/a large head

That’s not to say that any of the above sites are solely consumned on the topic I’ve mentioned them for, au contraire. Visit them all and sometimes you’ll laugh, sometimes you’ll ponder, sometimes you’ll explore, sometimes you’ll dream. And that, my friends, is why I love these funny little things called weblogs. Not for what they are, but for the people behind them. (Expanded by Tom: www.plasticbag.org – download his presentation for more info)

And go to my Visit page for many more wonderous examples of where I spend my ‘net time’.

OK, fluffy thoughts dealt with, on with the rant (presuming you’ve come back from the above recommendations, and why do I feel bad about not mentioning Vaughan, Carey, David, Caterina, Mike, Jennie, and so many others (and to add to that, I’m not worrying about the order I’ve list those names in…))

RANT
Stop. I wish I could. Just stop. Stop doing this, stop doing that, stop wanting this, stop deciding that.

Stop getting hacked off at things I can’t control. Stop worrying about things that haven’t happened (and probably never will). Stop dreaming, stop wishing, stop wanting.

Stop.

Most of all I want to stop Mondays.

Can’t we all just get together and agree that they are depressing, demoralising and thoroughly unhelpful days. Yes I realise they fill the gap until Tuesday and without them Tuesdays would become the new Monday, and anyway, what would we call the new day, and where would we put it? But Mondays suck. Last week I got stuck in traffic. This morning I dropped my watch (my beloved, coveted, beautiful watch) and shattered the glass face. Monday is getting the blame of this, and it’s not going to wriggle out of it.

(There have also been a few ‘developments’ at work, but I don’t like posting that kind of thing here. Best not to rant at the people that pay my salary)

Poem posted
Meant to throw this up last week but didn’t get around it. My sister sent it to me last weekend. Tears flowed.

bookmark_borderRANT

Posted on

We live in an electronic age, I can email someone across the world in seconds, remotely access my office network with a minimal delay, banks transfer money between accounts with a single-click…except they don’t. Hmmm so when I use Switch it comes STRAIGHT off my account, but if I want to transfer money between different accounts (to remedy a fuckup by the bank!) it takes 10 working days? HOW THE HELL DOES THAT WORK? Do they have to travel to a special computer in the middle of the desert, by foot, to push the correct button? Call me cynical but is it because they can have the interest on it for those 10 days rather than move it out of my account straight away? I feel a nasty letter coming on.