Human Beings Still Exist
Like 27bslash6 only not funny.
Correspondence with other human beings. Click the links to immerse yourself in a world of stupidity.
‘The problem with being poor is that you don’t have any money.’ – Chris James Peet, 2017.
As an aphorism that’s probably the most insightful that anyone’s ever composed in the history of the written word. I’m very proud of that concise observation so I’m glad it’s online now where no-one can read it. I raised this particular statement in the form of several emails in relation to an unpaid debt that I was being hassled about by a personal finance institution. It was quite a civil back and forth, and thankfully I was quite taken with the correspondent with whom I was dealing and began a long-distance, digital relationship with her that still flourishes to this day.
The 2016/2017 Premier League football season was my most successful season as a degenerate gambler, and because it was such a productive season in football betting it kept my cupboards full of Space Raiders, my fridge full of beer, and my son’s shitty backside comfortably in nappies. At one point during the season I was gambling £5 a week and getting back roughly $250,000 off a simple fiver. No-one believes this but it’s definitely a true story. I don’t really have anything much to say about this correspondence but it afforded me the chance to humblebrag about how fucking Rainman I am when it comes to predicting footballing winners. So there.
It’s common knowledge amongst the common people that energy companies are the shit-on-your-shoe in the world of utility bills, and their hourly price hikes, emphasis on shitting on the little people as well as fucking over the environment in every conceivable way imaginable doesn’t rank them in the upper echelons of my Christmas card list. Not that I send out Christmas cards in general anyway. They tend to be about Jesus Christ, or myrrh, or donkeys, or a big bright star in the sky or some other shit. If I receive Christmas cards I only tend to open them to check if they have money in them. If they don’t then they go straight in the bin. If they do then I pocket the money and put the card straight in the bin. With this in mind, our British Gas account had accrued quite a substantial amount of credit that they refused to give back so I politely emailed asking what the fucking fuck they were playing at. Turns out they’d thrown the complaint email straight in the trash and pocketed the money. So I complained again. Another sixty times.
Everyone loves a debt collection agency and their gleeful application of administrative fees. I used to have a mate – he’s dead now – who used to work for a debt collection agency and he said the reason they add the administrative fee to the cost of your original debt is to pay for the cost of sending the letter reminder thing which just proves how much Royal Mail is completely out of control with its postage rates. I once sent a birthday card to my next door neighbour with first class postage and it cost 63p! Unbelievable. Anyway, this particular collection agency said they’d sent me 3000 reminders about an unpaid bill that was passed to them which means I should have been liable for administrative fees of about £10 million. I offered a fair repayment plan based on my £300 annual income but they weren’t having any of it and issued me with another letter reminder thing, adding to the overall cost. These people are just vultures.
I’ve yet to meet anyone whose broadband service works properly. Based on absolutely no research whatsoever, poor broadband service is the main cause of heart attack and stroke on the planet. I don’t think the inventors of the internet foresaw their creation being constantly accompanied by frustrated sighs, expletives and violence towards random household objects whenever someone attempted to connect to it. The irony of this particular correspondence was that I was having to use broadband in order to speak to an adviser about how my broadband wasn’t working. I did this using magic.
There’s still a huge problem with blogging. I initially discovered that bloggers were the problem with blogging but I’ve since realised that because bloggers are basically underdeveloped adult toddlers who piss their pants when someone says ‘playtime’s over’, they clearly don’t know any better and we shouldn’t blame them for their ways. Except all those in the U.K. Bloggers group on Facebook. We can definitely blame them for their ways.
I quite like the feedback feature on eBay. If someone leaves you good feedback before you it means you get to be flamboyant with your own feedback without fear of reprisals. Which is why I get constant email notifications from the eBay fuhrers about my lack of feedback after I’ve done a little bit of business with a stranger on the other side of the globe. Occasionally I’ll leave feedback that suggests I’m very attracted to the person I’m buying from which is always good to put on your CV for prospective employers. This particular correspondence involved a faux Brad Pitt. If that sounds confusing that’s because it isn’t.
Correspondence #3: DPD transformed in Correspondence #4: DPD Part II, and not in a good way like the way a large heavy goods vehicle transforms into Optimus Prime with a flash of red, white and blue and a lot of wisdom. I just wanted it to end. Thankfully it did, and we celebrated with champagne and an umbrella. Read on to find out what the frig it is I’m banging on about.
I love receiving parcels in the post. Usually because most of the time I’ve forgotten what it is I ordered so when it arrives it’s much more of a surprise. Especially when it’s not a letter bomb and I’ve had a few of those in my time. Unfortunately, until we have full drone delivery capabilities, all post is delivered by human beings and therein lies the problem.
There’s a problem with blogging. And I’m here to find out what that problem is. Possibly wolves.
Solicitors can be scary. I know that from experience. I once had to speak to one because my parents were drawing up a will so everything was in place for when they expired and all he talked about was death. Death this, death that, death from above. It was all about death to him. He won’t be laughing when he dies. He’ll be dead himself then and then who’d be laughing?
Those live chat features on websites are a glorious thing and could provide hundreds of hours of personal entertainment should I ever find myself trapped in a public toilet with nothing but rolls of toilet roll, a high speed internet connection and hundreds of hours.
I applied for a part time job at a university only to be told midway through the application process that I may no longer be interested in the vacancy and to withdraw if this is the case. I got quite offended by the insinuation.
I applied for a position at a student placement company and was offered an interview only to have the offer of the interview withdrawn midway through the application process. I got quite offended by that.
I applied for a role at a university only to be told midway through the application process that my application had not been received despite the university acknowledging receipt of said application. I got quite offended by their trickery.