A Whole New World

I have decided that I no longer want to be part of this world at all. Whoever’s in charge, could you move me as quickly as possible? Why do you ask? Well, I’ve simply found a better world. A world where the only worry in life is when you miss the free buss and have a seven minute wait for the next one... A world where you have all day to yourself, and yet you still manage to get other people to do things for you. And, most importantly of all, a world where you can be as annoying, rude and ask as many awkward questions as you like, and people still smile at you and be polite regardless... I’m talking about the world of the elderly.

I’ve only really noticed this world fully in the past week... I mean, I used to often see glimpses of it. Back in my school days I’d noticed that the school bells had the opposite power to the elderly as they do to the young... When the bell tolls, kids go into lesson, while the elderly use this as their cue to leave the house... at 3:30, the roles switch.

Anyway, I reeeeally started to observe this world when I got landed with taking care of this website as well as my marketing mumbojumbo. The site sells a heee-uge amount CDs full of every artist the elderly could ever dream of. It doesn’t help that they’re all budget priced, so a real wrinkles magnet... and I’m the guy who has to sort out their queries, calls and letters...

Yesterday an elderly-gentleman rang and wanted every CD we had for an Irish country artist. We spoke on the phone for a while. As usual, as with every other person who calls over 60, he told me his general life story, which I didn’t need to hear, all I needed was his credit card number, but I’m starting to get used to these types of discussions now anyway. So, we eventually finalise his order and it’s all sorted, everyone’s happy and I can see my “messages” button flashing on my phone. As I’m about to hang up he whips out the question that made me realise old people really are not connected to this world at all... he said “Oh, could you tell the postman that if he comes and I’m not in, he can leave the parcel in the shed. Tell him if he looks right and follows the bush right round the corner, mine’s the second shed on the left”.

What can I say to that?! Hahaa. Then, today, an old lady rang wondering where her order was. I looked on our system and had no record of anything for her.. she said “but I sent a cheque in” so I replied “Ah, in that case, it’s probably been lost in the mail, we haven’t received it, sorry ma’am.” But no, that wasn’t enough. She posted it, so we obviously had it. But we hadn’t.. but she wouldn’t have it any other way. I even did the “I’ll just double check”-thing and just put the phone down for a minute and picked it back up again “nope, it’s not here”. So eventually she tells me she wrote in and someone replied, which turned out to be me. As soon as she found out that it was me who wrote her a letter it was as if her whole world changed! Hahaa, she dropped her angry tone and was all “Oh, it’s you!! Hello :) if that’s the case then, I’ll just send off another cheque in the post. Thanks for your help! Us oldies love your CDs” Heheee, bless! :D

So, to conclude, being old rocks. I can’t wait.

'Blunt' *IS* rhyming slang, right?

So Mr. Blunt is the funeral king. I always said he bored me to death.

If he’s played at my funeral, all in attendence shall be eternally despised.

Token first entry...

So, last week there I was, happily walking home after successfully getting a new freelance job at this mag, keeping an eye on any dubious looking types as I cut through the estate – the same estate that I cut through on my first day of the job and saw two separate cars getting broken into… but hey, it’s a paradise compared to where Steve lives. Anyway, it’s also used as a cut-through for cars as it avoids hitting several traffic lights along the main road, and this is where my story both begins and ends - within seconds.

Opposite the ghetto-rundown-petrolstation-converted-hand-carwash-type-thing, in the dead centre of the busy road was what looked like some pigeon-dove hybrid. It wasn’t ugly enough to be a pigeon, yet not pretty enough to be a dove… but what it was, was completely oblivious to its impending DOOM. I mean, I don’t know how much credit we should give birds, they certainly know where to aim when relieving themselves - but this one had a death wish.

I admit, I slowed my pace a bit when I noticed the bird meandering the dotted lines of the road, narrowly missing cars again and again and again, and not once giving as much as a flinch… After about the seventh time of the little feathered fella’s head nearly got introduced to the tire tread of some car I decided it was about time I go save the day and chase it out of the road. It had already made it to the other side of the road once and then decided to venture out to the middle again, just for giggles. Deciding to do my good deed of the day, I stop and wait for a good opportunity to step out without getting squashed myself. I look right, all is clear. I look left, there’s one car approaching fast, followed by a gap. Then I notice the car’s path, and the position of the pigeon-dove beast… oh dear.

The sound of a thousand tiny itty-bit bones being simultaneously shattered echoed through my body… it made me feel sick, I’ve never heard a crunch that hard before. I slowly turned away and walked on a bit stunned, like nothing had happened… of course, that didn’t really work too well as the wind blew the feathers along with me for the majority of the road’s length…

How’s that for a first post? Of course, I could now get all poetic on your behinds and say that this is just an expression of how I feel today. But I’m not that gay.