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daniel robert chapman wrote:Letter to my work about extraction details for a proposed cafe:

Thank you for send me a letter about
you need extraction today I'll back to you.
You need extraction information copy.

This shop is much cold sandwich. coffee.
tea. salad. snack. cake soft drinks. no much
hot mails. We be cook with oven then.

Thanks.

This is great!

Rotten Tanx wrote:

ChristopherM wrote:My mornings are somewhat routine at this point. I get up around 4...maybe 4:30...I take a shower, get dressed, drive to work and I usually get here around 5. For the next hour I sit at my desk, coffee in hand, and stare at my monitor. At around 6, I realize that my computer isn't even on yet. I turn it on and once again sit and stare for about an hour. At around 7 - 7:30 the security crew arrives and opens up the rest of the building and someone usually walks through and says 'hello'...at which point I normally begin typing on my keyboard (even though there aren't any programs open) to make it appear as though I'm hard at work. Thirty seconds later, as soon as the security detail has gone around the corner, I once again sit and stare at the computer...occasionally taking sips of my now lukewarm (if not cold) coffee. At around 8 o'clock I'll mosey over to the coffee machine and pour myself a cup of coffee (the first of many that I'll actually drink and not just hold in my hand) and make myself a hot bowl of oatmeal.

But today I'm really pissed off because I went to go make myself a bowl of oatmeal...just like I do every fucking day...only to find that someone took all of the fucking bowls! What the fuck?!? Who does that?!?

Stupid fucking bastards.

You crazy bastard. Why do you get up at such an ungodly hour if you don't do anything anyway?

Because then I can go home at 2pm and start recording, drinking beer, etc. etc. Although, I usually have to take a nap first. I'm a big advocate of napping.

For the past fifteen minutes in my office, a clipped recorded female voice has repeatedly said over the PA:

"May I have your attention please. In a few moments there will be a test of the fire alarm. You are not required to take any action."

This repeats every 16 seconds. I have taken this as a cue to leave for home. I am annoyed that I am annoyed by this very simple irritation. I would easily fold under psychological torture, I fear.

Our building conducts frequent fire alarm tests. It should be annoying, but the building's "deputy fire safety officer" gets on the PA to announce the tests. He sounds like a Damon Wayans character, a total caricature of a streetwise urbanite struggling with formal, standard English diction and enunciation. Makes me laugh every time.

When I worked at a big magazine publisher, the fire alarms were the woman's voice and flashing lights.

I worked in a cube, in the bowels of the office. Often with headphones on.

One day there was an actual evacuation of our floor, and because I had my headphones on and was in a position which made seeing the flashing lights impossible, I remained seated.

Apparently I was missed in the headcount (the fire marshal on our floor, my co-worker, had neglected to do the floor sweep) and was "rescued" by a FDNY. When he tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped about 2 feet in my chair and screamed very loudly.

burun wrote:When I worked at a big magazine publisher, the fire alarms were the woman's voice and flashing lights.

I worked in a cube, in the bowels of the office. Often with headphones on.

One day there was an actual evacuation of our floor, and because I had my headphones on and was in a position which made seeing the flashing lights impossible, I remained seated.

Apparently I was missed in the headcount (the fire marshal on our floor, my co-worker, had neglected to do the floor sweep) and was "rescued" by a FDNY. When he tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped about 2 feet in my chair and screamed very loudly.

i used to hide during fire drills. you never know if there are riots too.

I have a spangly new week-old job at the Highways at Lighting Department of Nottingham City Council. It's the fucking high life.

I deal with customer complaints, amongst other things. Today someone phoned up to complain about the workmen repaving the pavement in front of his house. He had offered them a cup of tea, and they had accepted.











That was his complaint. He had offered them a cup of tea, and they accepted it. They aren't being paid to drink his tea, that's not what he pays his bloody council taxes for.















But... he offered them the cup of tea....











Upon ending the conversation I tried to laugh but all that came out was a wretched little choking noise.

He offered them the tea.....

Help me, help us all. This isn't funny, this is just depressing. Where do these cunts come from?

All this fire alarm talk brings me to a story of my father's.

He is pretty respected in health and safety fields, with particular attention to electrical safety and fall arrest. After semi-retirement, he worked part time for a company down south, as something of a paid brain they could pick and/or rely on far too much.

One afternoon, an unexploded World War Two bomb was found near their offices. The army were called; the office park had to be evacuated. This was done by sending the secretaries on each floor to walk around and tell people what was going on. This took a long time, in a reasonably dangerous situation.

A few days later, with my dad present, the senior staff met to review the incident and safety procedures. My dad asked why, after being told by the army to evacuate immediately, the fire alarm had not been rung.

"Well," somebody answered. "It wasn't a fire."

There was much agreement that this was the right course of action; there wasn't a fire, so they didn't ring the fire alarm.

Someone then put forward, that perhaps they needed a different kind of alarm, for when there is a bomb threat. And for a flood, someone mentioned. What about if there's an accident? We'll need an alarm for that too.

This executive meeting then began drawing up a list of the numerous alarms that were required, and speculating as to the cost of installing these systems, until my dear, laid back father reentered the discussion.

"How about," he said. "We rename the fire alarm, as 'the evacuation alarm'?"

He said that the room was in uproar. This is what we pay Chris for! How did you come up with that one! This will save us so much time and money!

* I should add, I've heard similar stories from elsewhere; stupidity is universal, I guess. This version has the verification that I followed the events across the course of the week, and the tale concluded with my dad hitting his head against his desk and decrying his young fool employers.

Today I cashed in the change I've been collecting for a year and spent £111 in Asda. I'm moving into a new flat and bought things like cutlery, plates, towels, etc.

£111!

Regoddamndiculous.

Actually it was exactly £111.11

Todd Trainer would be proud.

Simmo! I think I need to know something. Did he actually serve them the tea?

In the version in my mind, he makes them the tea like a small child in a strop, throwing spoons and banging mugs and spilling everywhere; and then phones you to complain. Call over, he arranges the mugs on a tray, marches outside, and hurls the tray, mugs, spoons and all at the workmen in the road, yelling that he does not pay his taxes so that they can drink his tea!

Did that part happen? And if it didn't, should I leave it in the short theatrical adaptation anyway?