Prick of the Week: The General Public.

All these people are probably dead now. And I'm glad.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Once, not so long ago, I was all fired up about the injustices inflicted on innocent consumers by the heartless company I'm currently employed by. Three weeks of actually dealing with the bastards, three weeks of getting my ear chewed off daily by assholes, now has me singing a different song. These days each and every customer can fuck off, die, come back, contract AIDS and die again as far as I'm concerned.

Customer service jobs are always going to involve dealing with obstreperous wankers but the asshole ratio at this particular job is frighteningly high. Most of them have been dicked about quite badly for a very long time indeed, so I can see that they might need to let off some steam but come on, people; I'm only doing my job. There's no need to call me what you just called me, especially since I'm not allowed to say anything back. I have at least three people every day threatening to sick Watchdog on us, which I actually wouldn't mind as I've always wanted to be on the telly and the X Factor thing never really panned out for me. See for yourself.



One of their favourite tactics is to say, in a tone more hurt than angry: 'You just don't care, do you? You've had our money and now you don't care.'

No. No I don't.