I’m From the CIA I Am.

Post LI.

“I’m from the CIA I am! Call the police, woman. You look like a man. Call the police! Come on you stupid woman. Call the police. Call them! You’re just a driver. You wouldn’t dream of doing anything to me. Call the police. Go on. I’ll be right here. Go on”.

I must stress, I’m paraphrasing in that first paragraph. Primarily because that verbal assault went on for ten minutes. I was on the bus and some guy had ‘overridden’ which is a bus term for getting off at a later stop than you specified to the driver. Meaning that that guy hadn’t paid enough. So the driver had stopped to tell him, and he said he actually wanted the next stop. He didn’t, he was lying. But she gave him the benefit of the doubt and, shortly before the next stop, he pressed the bell and made his way to the front doors, which are next to the driver. Then began the aforementioned ten minutes of screaming at the driver. She was lovely, as well. Smiling. Joking with some of the passengers. Most bust drivers are like that around here. I felt bad for her. She eventually managed to get him off the bus and she got away and pulled over at the next stop to report the incident. She seemed really upset. Poor thing. “I’m from the CIA I am”. Hmm. What a lousy excuse. They don’t even have jurisdiction here in the UK.

It was a bewildering start to my week. Well, actually, that’s a lie. There was a more bewildering thing that started my week. Now, I know you’re all thinking, ‘really? More insane than some dude seemingly drunk flipping his lid on a bus?’ Why yes. History repeated itself, this week. Do you remember that blind cord with the bit of broken plastic that sliced my hand and caused it to bleed everywhere? Yes? Good. Guess what? It happened again. And worse, it happened in exactly the same spot. I’m now convinced that tiny bit of plastic is trying to kill me. Sniff. Why oh why can’t it leave me alone? What does it want from me?

I thought that incident would mark the end of my few weeks of injury hell. I thought, I truly did, that my nightmares were over and good luck would come my way. Finally, the little devil on my shoulder had released its chokehold on the little angel on the other shoulder. Not a sodding chance.

I was told to go to a meeting this week. Hallelujah. That was a pain to spell. Anywho, the meeting. Up three flights of stairs to get to it. Oh yes, no elevator for me. The meeting only lasted two minutes. I had to stand up because I had no bloody chair. And I wasn’t going to sit on the floor like some hippy. The man I was talking to said I had to go arrange another meeting in another building, since he couldn’t get hold of them on the phone. I thought I’d take a shortcut as the other building was over half a mile away. Here’s a golden tip: never take a shortcut. One mile of walking later, I arrive at the other building. Guess what? Nobody home. It was closed. So I had to walk back to where I came from, the correct way that time, and tell the original guy whom I had talked to what had happened. So he says ‘ring their head offices in London’. So I do. They take my details. They say they’ll patch me through to their Middlesbrough offices. They say the line will go dead for a minute, but not to worry. One minute later, worryingly, I’m back on the phone to the London office. They say, ‘oh sorry, we can’t seem to get through to them at the moment’. I was calm. Despite my aches and pains from waking so much. I didn’t at all feel like throttling someone.

Of course, this pain was all forgotten as I arrived home after a long, sweaty 40-minute bus ride home. There it was. On the sofa. It had arrived. Blue packaging. I tore it off. A seal on the box beneath. I feverishly tore it to shreds. I was just so damn excited. Two weeks I had waited. And there it was. Inside that beautiful cardboard box. Silver corrugated effect on its lid. Black stripe at the bottom. The keys inside raised and separated. No more crappy operating system. Goodbye Vista, hello world and so forth. I pressed the ‘on’ button and there it was. All lit up like a Christmas tree set on fire at the trash heap by hobos trying to keep warm. It had arrived. My laptop saga was over. My new one was here.

Halle-smegging-lujah.

“Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please”, said the late, great American author and humorist Samuel ‘Mark Twain’ Clemens.

Peace Out :|:

(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. To do so, you can leave a comment by pressing the bubble on the top right of this post and scrolling to the bottom of the new page you’re taken to. Likes greatly appreciated, and I always visit any blogs associated with them. Thanks).

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