Tag: Life

Hello again. I’m bored, so looking to spread it around. Wendy’s off god-bothering, Luke (her adult son) is messing on his computer and there’s bugger all on the box (for a change). I tried to write this out about half an hour ago, but whether because Luke has run his PC through this one to our (annorexically narrow) broadband connection or the gods of literary whining had had enough, the connection was lost and with it my words. Irritating. Anywho, soldiering on regardless, to get up to date: I’ve put in for another four hours truck training and another test. Third time better be lucky, I’m fast running out of none-existent money. I’m doing as Prudence Brown requested; spending my way out of recession. If the country goes bust, don’t go pointing the finger of blame at me. As I say, it’s money we don’t have, and to make matters worse when I finally do pass, I will still only be qualified for a lesser paid job than I have now. I then need to spend another £600+ to convert to articulated to make good money. This latest license attempt is costing £420-ish! Ho jolly hum. It needs to be done though. I have no skills, qualifications, no trade (other than the one the army gave me "You don’t want to join the infantry, join the artillery and come out with a trade." So, now I have on my CV ‘can kill people from  32K.’  Admittedly it’s a niche trade, but well worth the three years of my life it took to acquire.) So, to return towards the point, I’ve bugger all skills, and a job that’s destroying my elbows and hastening my demise into my dads state of advanced (rheumatism/ arthritis?) knackered-ness. Now my job has deteriorated into all of the above, with added -28C! The joy just keeps coming. The point I was so manly striving toward, before becoming enmired in the above morass of digression, is that I have to get my license (s) and get out of my current job, no matter what. I thought it was going to be a lot sooner than I’d anticipated, recently. A manager had me in the office for an investigatory hearing, asking why I wasn’t achieving my pick rate. It is a measure of how much I hate working in the freezer that I didn’t even bother to bullshit. I hate it that much that if they were to sack me I wouldn’t be upset. (Destitute, bankrupt, and selling my arse down Bridge Street when the fleet came in, but not as upset as now!) So I told it like it jolly well is, and they said that I have two weeks to start hitting my target (which they know I do every shift when not in the freezer, but they won’t transfer me) or I’d be back in for another investigatory, with a view to disciplinary. The implication being that I either started hitting my score or they […]

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