Customer Service

Apparently this was in the guardian and is a genuine reply sent by the Inland Revenue… Superb!

                …………………. Dear Mr Addison ,

I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise. I will address them, as ever, in order.

Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a ‘begging letter’. It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a ‘tax demand’. This is how we at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy, traditionally referred to such documents.

Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the ‘endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat’ has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from ‘pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers’ might indicate that your decision to ‘file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies’ is at best a little ill-advised. In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a ‘lackwit bumpkin’ or, come to that, a ’sodding charity’. More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.

Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay ‘go to shore up the canker-blighted, topling folly that is the Public Services’, a moment’s rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to ’stump up for the whole damned party’ yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor’s disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on ‘junkets for Bunterish lickspittles’ and ‘dancing whores’ whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, ‘that box-ticking façade of a university system.’

A couple of technical points arising from direct queries:
1. The reason we don’t simply write ‘Muggins’ on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system;
2. You can rest assured that ’sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give’ has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn’t render it irrelevant, the sheer medical logistics involved would make it financially unviable.

I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to ‘give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India ‘ you would still owe us the money. Please send it to us by Friday.

                Yours sincerely,

                H J Lee Customer Relations

Sleepy Saturdays

Once upon a time I’d sleep in on a Saturday because I was out partying the night before, these days it’s because I am knackered after a hard week’s work, I don’t think I could cope with partying :(

So when did this change happen?  I haven’t been to a nightclub in about 5 years, I haven’t even had a good session down a pub in the last few years.  Parties? well these days they seem to be work or work-like dos, where getting pissed and starting fights is somewhat frowned upon.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not anxious to go back to waking up and counting the bruises, but a little life injected into events wouldn’t be so bad.  I guess the main problem is that all my mates are married with either sensible wives and/or some nippers.  There is nothing wrong with that but it does seem to turn previously fun-loving blokes into some weird socially acceptable ‘Captain Sensible’, not because this is their natural maturity but because this is how they think one should act as a father and husband.

I have two lovely kids who are almost 11 and 9 years old and I learnt long ago that if I change me to try and force some sort of example on them then it’ all just turn out badly and their Mum (and our respective new partners) feel the same way.  In fact they are exposed to experiences and cultures that I would hope are contributing towards their apparent well rounded and easy going attitude to their own lives.

I guess it’s important to note at this point that we do guard our kids against aspects of the world that are not suitable, but then as they see so much of life they don’t appear to go searching, so the protection is very passive.  This is very much how I was brought up.

So given all this and the fact that I don’t need to turn into Sir Flat Cap, why am I?  I guess I need to go and re-find the old Karl, he’s in here somewhere.

Promoted

Well I got promoted at work, I am now the ‘Manager’ of my small team of four.  This isn’t the first time I have managed a team but I was still feeling a bit hesitant at the prospect when my Boss first mentioned it. 

You see I have a very aggressive nature, or more accurately ‘passionate’, I have very little tolerance for slackers, especially when they hold up progress of something I am responsible for.  In today’s caring and shrink wrapped employment world a Manager is meant to be caring and considerate to mitigating factors…  where as I normally just end up ranting a lot and wanting to fire said slacker ;)

Thankfully I have been saved from worry on two counts, firstly my team is good, technically and on the most part, socially.  Secondly I am primarily responsible for directing the systems solutions and day to day priorities and can defer the personnel issues to my Boss where needs be.  So all is good!

Of course this means changes for me… I need to crack my morning problems and get my arse into work on time (this has been getting slowly better), I must stop breaking the dress code and try and lead by example.  I also guess I should put some after-hours effort into planning, to make sure I don’t make a complete tit of myself and my team ;)

So is this my first step towards responsibility and resultant loss of technical expertise, or a one way trip to oblivion…  time will tell.

DOFs

When I was younger my Dad had a nickname for slow O.A.P. drivers, DOFs, or Dothering Old Farts.  This morning I had two encounters with DOFs in as many miles.  The first old dear decided that she didn’t need to check for traffic and pulled out infront of me causing me to cross into the on-coming lane in order to avoid her (I wasn’t going fast but it was bloody close).  The second one was another ‘little old lady’ deciding to go all the way around the roundabout in the outside lane, whilst indicating left (i.e. to turn off).

Now I don’t want to sound age-ist but these little blue haired disaster zones should not be on the road, especially not with more blind old gits in the car with them.  They have more potential to cause death and destruction than a gang of rappers doing a drive-by shooting.

So I rather think the gov’ should retest these little old ‘gansta’ ladies at yearly intervals after the age of about 50, and if they can’t see over the wheel, drive at 50% of the speed limit, have the mirror tilted so they can keep an eye on ‘tiddles’ in the back, or infact do anything these dangerous little old bastards are famous for, they should lose their licence.

Today was a lucky escape… and i’m glad because what is more frustrating than crashing into a car driven by a dangerous old biddy, is the fact that society would then look down on me for giving the old bat a good kicking for putting me at risk :)