Examples of stupid this week:
1) reading over the phone to someone who has the document I am reading from in their hands and knows which section to look at (page 2 of 5 – epic...);
2) telling a supplier what his email address was as he could not remember it;
3)...
God. There are so many coming to mind that I cannot be bothered with that already. It just hasn't been a great week at work.
To be honest, I am starting to think I need therapy. This has been a terrible year for workloads and distractions and arguments. I’m getting hateful towards the public. My long-term plan to eliminate all who cannot stand to the side on escalators without being asked is stuck in development hell. I now get funny looks when I push people out of shop doorways when they have stopped there for a chat on their mobile. I'm the one who tries to avoid getting in anyone's way, and that makes me the minority. And not just in Reading, although that thought had kept me going for the last few years.
Breaking point - where I suspect I start throwing my faeces at passersby and seeing if anyone thinks it unusual behaviour - was nearly reached by going to the London Film Festival this week. I have a lot of fun at the BFI, I love the festival, this has been a fairly good year from what I have seen there so far, and the trips should therefore be a nice treat.
But dear god, the other people. Them. Possibly, you.
On Wednesday night, I found myself being thoroughly (open mouthed) appalled by
(a) media students spouting total bull around all the open plan areas of the BFI (very few ever actually seem to go into the screenings, and I saved an especially withering look for the girl that decided to slag off denim and checked shirts – guess what I was wearing? - whilst sat next to me in a beret, sunglasses, pleated skirt, poncho, it’s-eight-in-the-evening-and-you-are-at-a-cinema-complex-you-total-muppet); and
(b) people who obviously go to the cinema once a decade and are immediately panic stricken enough to fail to understand very simple things.
Simple Things:
• door numbers;
• seat numbers;
• queuing, as shut doors with a member of staff stood in front and people queuing outside them mean it’s not time to go in yet – yes, that’s why the people you just saw trying to push past the poor member of staff (someone who doesn’t usually have to deal with so many cretins a night) didn’t get in and are being stared at by the normal people;
• personal hygiene (yes, even I can complain about some of them), especially mid-queue;
• some people may find your voice shrieking and painful, especially if mid-movie, or throughout a movie;
• people sat next to you are not cup holders, and on a related note...;
• it’s easier to remove backpacks whilst stood in the aisle than when you get to your seat after the movie starts, and on a related note...:
• you should turn up before the movie starts (late, due to other morons ahead of you, some of whom dressed themselves and everything), in case you struggle with, say, your drink and backpack at a significant part of the film you didn’t have enough interest in to watch all of;
• there is an innate hideousness to spandex as a lifestyle choice, especially if worn by people who (possibly) dress themselves;
• the removal of tw*t hats (especially if worn at a jaunty angle, which suggest you are unhinged) if you are over six foot three and will be sat near the front of a crowd would be appreciated;
• mobile phones can be turned off, or can even be jammed into one of your orifices with considerable force;
• you need to get change ready before you get to a bar;
• you need to check you have money before ordering at a bar;*
• those who can barely walk should not push to the front of a queue and then stop for a chat with themselves every half, achingly painful step forward or to the side; and
• mention of your revolting corporation funding a movie generally held to be quite sh*t makes you look really stupid, especially if your flies are undone whilst you are doing it, stood right in front of the door a disappointed and tired audience for said film are trying to get out of.
Golly, aren’t I all happy and bubbly in the run up to Christmas shopping?
*Uh, I must admit to a long shop in M&S without thinking of this one first. You live and learn.
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