Lets go for a little “Social Commentary”. I figure it is something I haven’t done before, and with the boring as hell action packed day I had a few days back, I think it is worth sharing. And by “worth sharing”, I mean “If I had to go though it, so do you”.
So. My fascinating day. I was sent on a course which was in central London. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking “Just WHAT could you have to go on a course for? You are already omniscient, so why would you need to go?” Well, I hide it a little too well from my co-workers. So well in fact, that I am known as the department dribbling idiot. I still get given training manuals with pop up pictures. Aaaanyway.
Armed with my man flu (which I STILL have…I really do think I may actually be ill this time!), I crawl out of bed and make my way to the train station and start the exciting journey of having a nap on the train. Then I got to the tube.
Dressed in tasteful jeans and a tee, my head shaved and looking like an unemployed wreck due to my eyes being red from my cold and that I got up before 11am, I got the “He is going to steal something” treatment from a man who thinks he is WAY more important than he is. So, to give me the “I know what you are going to do” thing, he stares at me and then moves his laptop bag further away from me. Yes, that is right…if you shave your head and don’t wear a suit, you are a thief! I was quite shocked to realise this due to my clean criminal record and that I had no plans to mug anyone. But I am sure he went to the office and bragged about how small his penis is that he stopped a mugging. Good effort young freak! Good effort indeed!
After holding myself back from mugging 15 people because of how I was dressed, which was taking over my mental ability to be a normal citizen, I get to the training center. Or “Lobotomy Lab” as was written on the door.
There is always “one” at these courses. And no, it wasn’t me. In this case, we were all given a nice little card to write our names on in big chunky pen so others in the room could see our names. It felt like speed dating, but it was a room full of blokes and one woman…who also had a cold and was dribbling snot everywhere. It was like sitting near jabba the hut after a pepper sniffing competition.
So everyone put there cards on the desk facing out so people could see each others names. Except the “one”. He faced it inwards.
Why? Does he not know his own name? I guess that as he got his driving licence out to help write down his name that indeed he really doesn’t! I though about referring to him as “Blank white dude”. But back to the course.
Armed with a notepad and a pen, I listened intently to the nice gent running the course and took down invaluable notes for a later date when I may wish to go back through the paperwork. Below are the contents of the notes written during my 8 hours in the room:
Indeed.
Reaching the end of the day, I say goodbye to the fellow coursers, and make my way to the train to get home. On the trains in the UK, it is frowned upon to talk constantly on your phone. Why? Because it is freakin annoying and people just do not want to hear about whatever the hell it is that you did today which means nothing to us. Unless you are dishing out the winning lottery numbers for the next draw, just don’t use the phone.
But alas, there was someone on the phone. Although to his credit, he kept quiet and you could tell he wasn’t a fan of talking on the train. But to the woman opposite him, he was the devil. She started huffing and sighing and getting more and more agitated. At one point I thought she was going to turn in to a chupacabra and empty his body of blood. Finally, after a few minutes he gets off the phone.
And she gets a sandwich out.
A cheese and something else sandwich. Toasted. It smelt like someone had thrown up in to a plastic bag and sold it as a tasty snack. Holy crap it smelt bad. And it didn’t go away. She ate the whole thing and then the smell permeated around the carriage abusing peoples nostrils. I know it is not something you want to think about, but at some point in the future, that 50something old woman was going to commit a heinous crime in her toilet at home. That smell actually got off of the train with me and walked me to my car. I realised that as soon as I was to get home, I was going to need to exfoliate my entire body with bleach to get rid of the smell.
So there you have it. From being looked at like a mugger to smearing toilet bleach over my body all in the space of 13 hours.
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