Coastalblog

I'm serious, Christmas is biting hard and I'm trying desperately to think of ways to keep myself from going mad. It was in the middle of service last night, when dealing with a particularly obnoxious Christmas party (who I am perfectly happy to name as the staff of Ormskirk Specsavers. An obnoxious and zero-tipping bunch of fuckwads, who wouldn't pass plates that I palpably couldn't reach until I shouted "Go go gadget arms!" at them. And a special note for the girl in the maroon halter neck top. I do not fancy you. None of my staff fancy you. and I don't care if you get your breasts out or not I'm not going to serve you past last orders ) when my big new idea hit. It's so easy. Take one fractious and bickering corporate body and, instead of all that white-water rafting or paintballing nonsense send them to me for the festive season. The relentless nights of squalling dimwitted christams partyers, the heat, the noise, the overcoming of adversity...

Well, since (successful) conclusion of NaNoWriMo I have had no desire to glance even slightly at a computer screen, hence lack of blog updates. It's all over now though, and Christmas is upon us, so I will need to vent, thus: I'M BACK, BABY! And what a shitfest the last couple of weeks or so have been. Work has descended into a maelstrom of decorations, festive records and pissed office parties (I have been asked twice in the LAST WEEK whether or not we can "do a pizza, cos I don't like anything on the menu" on both occasions I have pointed them in the direction of the kebab shop over the road). 'Tis also the season to chase cokeheads out of the toilet REPEATEDLY (though I hit upon the idea a couple of days ago of wiping the top of the cistern with chilli oil at the start of each shift, and that seems to have done the trick). The manager's gone a bit mad (in the same way that Rasputin was a bit of an eccentric), and I'm left trying to jolly a dem...