Parking a BMW

[Note: This is one of those posts I’ve kept on meaning to write, and it’s been lagging in my brain for about a month now]

As regular readers (Assuming there are any, still) of D4Dâ„¢ will know, I’m really not a great fan of BMW users. OK, let’s be honest, I think that the massive majority (roughly 99.5% of ’em) of BMW owners are total dickheads. Those rare few BMW owners who aren’t complete tosswads? Exceptions to the rule, that’s it. You’ll also note that I tend to not refer to them as “drivers”. (“Arseholes” or “Wankers” is a far more probably piece of terminology)

One of the people in my current office is – you’ve guessed it – a BMW user. Every day – every day he rolls up in the carpark, and plonks his (small) BMW slap-bang over the separating line, so his car takes up two spaces, with half a car’s-width of space either side. It’s completely intentional – I don’t know why he does it, but he does it every day.

Thankfully, the car-park isn’t short of spaces, so this cock’s behaviour doesn’t actually inconvenience people for the most part. But it’s just so indicative of BMW owners, like their cars are something special, and should be treated differently from all others.

And in fairness, I do treat it differently to the other cars. Because I really want to key it, to scratch the shit out of this bell-end’s oh-so-previous paintwork. And I never feel like that about cars. Except for this one.


Interviewage

So yes, the interview on Friday went (I think) pretty well. Personally I don’t think I’ve got some of the relevant experience for the job (it involves a lot of project management and recruitment guff) but i gave it my best shot, and at the end of the day, that’s what counts.

It also involved giving a presentation first, which I hate. It’s not that I’m bad at them – according to feedback, I’m actually pretty good at them – I just don’t like standing up and giving a presentation, particularly to people I don’t know and have never met before. To me, they’re ust something I have to do, simple as that- and that’s the attitude I’d also have to them if I had to do them as part of a role. Mind you, it might be a bit easier if I actually planned them, as opposed to pretty much winging it. Yes, I know roughly what I’m going to say, and the rough order in which I’ll say it – but that’s as far as I go. I prefer to talk to people, not read from cue-cards or scripts.

So as far as I can tell, it all went OK. I doubt I’ve got the job, but that’s through holes in the skill-set, rather than bad interview.

I’ll find out more on Tuesday – all told they interviewed eight people in the one day, and a decision will have been made by Tuesday.


Table Habits

One of the funniest things I’ve read in a while is here – about food-eating habits that people have.

While the article itself is fairly amusing on the subject, the comments underneath it are well worth reading in their own right.


Extensions

So yes, yet again I’ve had my contract extended with the current place of work.

Thankfully it’s not the Cambridge one any more, and I started this new contract two weeks ago tomorrow. It was only a short-term stop-gap thing initially which was supposed to end on Friday – but now they want me for a few more weeks while the system goes live on the Intranet.

I must be doing something right – after all, I’m getting the work done (not, as Gordon suggested, “making a mess of it, to keep me in work” nor as Lionel suggested, “working slowly to make it look like there’s more to do”) and generally fixing the problems that had been generated by the last person to be working on the project.

It also makes the agency I’m working through for this contract happy, as it gets them more money – and also happily works as a reference for a couple of the other things they’re putting me forward for once this one’s done.

So all in all it’s going OK, and I must be doing something right. If only I knew what… *grin*


Slanguage

You’ve got to love it when a girl asks for “a cab, innit?” and receives a display cabinet rather than the taxi she was expecting…


Ferndale Lodge

Just under a month ago, I ordered a couple of things from Ferndale Lodge for Herself’s birthday, which should’ve arrived in plenty of time.

Except, of course, one thing didn’t. One delivery came nice and quickly, all sorted – and on the delivery note it said that the other item had been “despatched seperately”. OK, still two weeks before Herself’s birthday, so it should still get here.

Except, of course, it didn’t. Two weeks passed, and nothing arrived.

I emailed Ferndale Lodge on Friday, expecting some kind of response so I could know what was going on. Nothing.

Having given them a fair crack of the whip at answering, I called them today and (eventually) got through. Turns out they were out of stock of this particular item, and just couldn’t be arsed to tell their customers. Their systems don’t integrate with the website, so if it’s out of stock, you can still order it, and they’ll just send it out when they get more stock.

Now it’s fair enough to put things on back-order, I don’t mind that. But all the same, it would also still be nice if Ferndale Lodge at least considered letting their customers know that, rather than just annoying them by ignoring the problem and hoping it’ll go away.

Supposedly, everything will now be delivered by the weekend.

I’m not going to hold my breath.


Still Talking

Driving to work yesterday, I spent half the journey in front of some cock who was talking into his mobile the entire way. I don’t normally want to see the police while I’m driving (not that I have a problem with them, but well – they’re never a happy sight) but damn I wanted to see one during that drive.

It amazes me still that people just think it’s OK to talk and drive. Personally, I aim to never use the phone – in fact I’ve only done so once, when the person called me back four times in a row without leaving a message, and that was when the road was straight, clear, and dual carriageway with no traffic coming the other way. I think the call lasted twenty seconds all told. Even then, it wasn’t OK to do, but was less distracting than the repeated calls.

All the same, fifteen-minute calls are taking the piss.