Hurrah! It’s officially Christmas! Which means, just like I was last year, I’m working almost permanen nights. At least I do 3 days on 3 days off now, so it’s not going to be as depressing and solitary as it was last year. I hope not anyway.

As I said no more than a few words ago, I ve been on nights for the past 4 weeks, so you’ll be unsurprised to learn that while the works unofficial Xmas party was on, I was stuck in the dank, cold, horrible atmosphere of Employment Place, therefore you can imagine just how much I wasn’t looking forward to this particular shift. Now, before we continue, I must mention that about 3 weeks ago, I lost my wireless dongle, so I’ve been a bit pissed off over it. For those who have not seen it, it’s a little silver thing, with “safecom” printed on it. There’s a picture of it on the complog if anyone can be bothered reading it (probably not). Either way, I just mentioned it so the next bit actually makes sense.

I had no idea where this dongle was. The last time I remembered having it was when I was finishing my shift. I’d forgotten to put it in my laptop bag, so I put it in my coat pocket. I was due my 3 days off, so I didn’t use the wireless dongle for those three days.

I returned to work, 3 days later, and rooted through my laptop bag. Bugger! It wasn’t there. Not impressed. So, where was it? It certainly wasn’t in my coat pocket anymore.

3 weeks pass, and the dongle was still at large. Nowhere to be seen. At all. I was spitting blood. It was just after I’d invested in a wireless router too, which I hadn’t had the chance to use properly because of this. I was in work last night, and accidentally emptied the contents of my laptop bag onto the floor. Liuckily, the laptop was already out of the bag, and set up on the desk next to me. Amongst the rubbish and various USB cables, what’s on the floor next to me? Only that bloody dongle. I couldn’t believe it. I’d searched the house up and down. I’d ripped the sofa to bits in case it had fallen out of my pocket, and all this time, it was bloody sodding sat there in the frigging laptop bag, despite the fact I’d opened every zip and velro fastener that there was on it. Grrrr.

So, that was a good start to the day. I knew my dongle was safe.

Work itself went rather quickly, and not without an amusing hoax call. For those who don’t know me, part of my job is to take calls on one of those 24-hour shopping channel things, who I’ll not name. Usually, on Fridays, and Saturdays, you get all of the people returning from nights out calling up who want a bit of a laugh. These calls are easy to spot. They always call from mobiles, there’s always a group of people listening in, and as soon as they get through, they tell everyone to shut up bcause they’re through. Usually, some drunk woman can’t stop giggling in the background.

At precisely 6:17, I received one such call, from a broad Glaswegian. After getting the opening stuff out of the way, the conversation went like this, before he hung up.

Me: “What would you like”
Him: “I’d like for you to go and take your face for a shite”

I think I was creased laughing for about 20 minutes. I think it was the broadness of his accent, and the hilarity of the phrase “take your face for a shite. Shortly, it was time to go home, so just like I’d done all week, I ordered a taxi to take me and Rob (the other guy who was on the phone) home. It turned up at 8:10, just as I’d ordered. That was, of course, good news. I’ll be home in time for a good sleep. Half of the ride was uneventful, as we chugged our way through the town, listening to some local brass bands murder timeless Christmas classics on Radio Cleveland.

We dropped Rob off, and just as we were driving away, there was an almighty thud, the driver swore to himself, and the taxi shuddered to a halt. O-hohoho! So much for getting to bed early. I sat there, wondering just what the chances were that this happened.

Now, the only thing I know about motor mechanics is “the wheels on the car go round and round”, and these wheels weren’t going anywhere, so my overall analysis of the situation was that it was totally fucked. The driver called in to get me another taxi, and I sat there wondering what the odds of this happening actually were. By the time I’d came up with a figure which didn’t involve chocolate, the replacement taxi had arrived, and was ready to whisk me away, once again, back to Mercuryvapour Towers, and my lovely warm bed. Apparently, the clutch cable had gone on the original taxi. Not that it actually mattered, as I got the journey for free.

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