February is fast becoming the month for life lessons.
I had an interview at the job centre today. Later, as I turned the corner to Pie Palace, I bumped into the cousin of my neighbour. I call my neighbour noisy reggae man and he’s an absolute diamond. His girlfriend on the other hand…
I received a big lesson last week from… an Asda supermarket self-service checkout. This is my story.
This checkout taught me everything I know
Three weeks ago, I was at a protest. To save my local station.
The BBC, like many other organisations in these austere times are having to find savings, thanks to the six year freeze the government placed on the price of the licence fee. Some of these savings, otherwise known as cuts, are going to affect local radio. London is the most heavily affected, losing shows broadcast between 12 and 5pm and 7pm to 6am. Breakfast, the mid morning show and drivetime will remain. Shared programming (whatever the hell that means) will be put in place covering all the regional stations in the southern end of the UK. Large chunks of what makes a local station unique will be removed, almost certain never to return. There’s more…
I was working in Croydon last week.
One day I had a sudden craving for chocolate, so I went into a newsagent in my lunch break to get that chocolate fix. While I was waiting to pay, two young women in front of me were having a food conversation with the shopkeeper. He shared an Indian recipe with them, potato being the main ingredient. One of the women pulled a face and said: “I don’t like potatoes, but I do like chips.”
At this point, dear reader, you are more than welcome to take a few moments to ponder on the profundity of that statement.
These are not potatoes. Just wanted to make that clear.
When I reached the counter, the shopkeeper was staring in the middle distance, repeating what the woman had said, as if in a trance. I furrowed my brow in solidarity. He snapped out of the trance and quickly followed with “And I suppose she thinks potatoes grow on trees.” I laughed so loud and so suddenly that he almost jumped back into the cigarette shelf behind him.
Classic.
Last week my phone line went down. I should’ve seen the signs. My email and browser had been working intermittently for a while, but on Wednesday night they finally gave up the ghost and stopped altogether. I checked my router, then my line. The box was fine, but the line was not. I called BT on my mobile (ker-ching!) to report the fault to an automated service (natch) and was assured it would be sorted out within three days. Three days! I’d been without t’internet for 20 minutes and I was already climbing the walls. You don’t realise how much you rely on email and an Internet connection, until you can no longer receive it.
Hello? Hello? Hellooooooooo...
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