3. Postmen
There are special training camps where the art of putting a flat rectangular object through a rectangular hole is taught. Badly.
You know those baby toys where you fit the correct shape through each hole? Star goes into the star shape, square goes into the square shape etc.? Well it turns out that Royal Mail has an idiot shaped hole, and it’s just begging to be filled by morons. These people didn’t understand that toy when they were a baby, and they understand it even less now that they’ve eaten it.
Seriously, I don’t know how to defend this one. I just … I don’t know.
Royal Mail CEO "Postman Pat" had this to say: "Sucks to be you!" His cat added: "I iz in your mails, poopin LOL!!!1!"
Granted, mistakes can happen. Like accidentally taking my cheque and cashing it into your account (good job Post Office in East Dulwich Lordship Lane, for cashing it to someone who was totally me!). Sure, those kind of mistakes happen, but how exactly do you fail to put a bit of paper through a hole? It’s a fail on such ridiculous scale that I’d rather believe I misplaced it myself because I have brain cancer.
2. Sales Staff
As we’ve already seen, sales can be tough. Knowing when to crowd a customer so they feel uncomfortable and leave your shop, and when to take a 2 hour toilet break leaving the new guy to deal with the sudden surge of people demanding an iPhone can be tricky. Admittedly the surge of people somewhat gives it away in the latter case, but it’s still tough for someone who hasn’t grasped the intricacies of not breathing through their mouths.
They're very efficient in Taiwan. It only takes a ridiculous number of people there to do one job, as opposed to here
Giving wrong advice may sound like an easy thing to do, but the only way to ensure your advice is so off base that there will be no possible way the customer won’t end up crying at home, is to know what the correct information is, and avoid it like a friend request on Facebook from Sina Bahrami. Some sales staff give such phenomenally bad advice that you wonder if putting a “do not” in front of everything they say would yield better results.
If I did have a way of defending them, I would. But look into my one remaining eye, look into my soul I. Do. Not.
1. Road Workers
It’s easy to blame the council for the unfinished roadworks you see scattered around London. So I will. I blame them wholeheartedly and without reservation.
In the interest of fairness, I called Southwark Council for an explanation, who put me through to someone who “will get someone to call me right back”. In the interest of sloppy journalism, I will not wait, and instead make up as plausible an explanation as I would get if I were to be called back. Are you all tucked in comfy? Got your warm milk? Let’s begin:
In the beginning, there was the word, and the word was chaos. Then man came and created roads, which brought order out of chaos. Chaos was pissed (and anthropomorphisededed now somehow). He rained down bloody hell fire unto the heads of men, that they may know his pissitude (this is why we now have hair — nature’s rather lame response to our desperate cries for some kind of protection from the prevalent condition known as headfire at the time).
Obviously the best time to do this is when the Underground is mostly closed for the next few years
After many years of negotiation with his representatives on earth; the holy council of Southwark, it was agreed that we would only kind of make roads. So the workmen would dig up a road, and leave it like that for disproportionate lengths of time while they all played Jenga at Steve’s house.
NOT-REALLY-AN-UPDATE: Southwark council still hasn’t called me back. Message ends.
Pages: 1 2
Can we add The Elderly to the list. Also Tha Kidz. And poor people too, obviously.
As an ex driver I can concur…they are twats. Adding passengers (from my point obviously) would be great, or what would be better is a sweeping generalisation of the public as a whole. Whole lot of what – the jury is still out and being bribed in an alley – we don’t know. Please add cyclists to your list, and please point me in the direction of a shop where I can purchase a horn for my car that simply says ‘Get out of my way before you end a bonnet ornament’. Who is Fred Jones?
He doesn’t exist!