I’m a fucking optimist, people, it’s the WORLD that keeps finishing my wine.

Reasons why I have every right to be a Grouchy McGrouchbag.

1. My wallet was stolen recently. Boo fucking hoo, except it had my cards in it and my ID, so now I can’t get new cards or withdraw my money because I don’t have ID, and I can’t get new ID made because… I have no ID. My dual citizenship is a bitch sometimes, because I have different names in different documentation. So tomorrow I have a fucking long queue-n’-whine to look forward to wherein I wheedle the dull, lifeless public servants with their stupid expensive belts and shoes into believing that I’m the same person as my passport I mean LOOK at me, OK? Good. Now, make me a new ID with… not that name, no… a different name. We cool? Oh, and I look kinda shitty this week, so I reeeeeally don’t want to get photos taken that will haunt me for the next few years.

2. Last month I took a well-needed if not entirely deserved break. I booked my flights well in advance. I was so phucking psyched about it. And then, three days before travel, shock horror, pilot strikes threatened for the day I was travelling. EEEEP! So I checked the airline’s website and the sweethearts were offering full refunds to anyone travelling that day, even if the strike didn’t go ahead in the end. Ah, lovely. I tried to cancel online but it wanted to cancel both my flights, outbound and return. So I called the number listed for European customers on their website. I waited on hold, I waited on hold. I listened to some seriously intrusive music. I finally reached the oh so appreciated human voice, and was imediately reassured. Refund, sure, no problemo. Clack clack clack on the keyboard and there you have it, all sorted.

My refund never arrived. Yesterday I checked my phone bill which I have been casting shifty eyes over for a few days but I was trying to pretend didn’t exist until I opened it up…. Opened that bad boy wincing… and motherfucking GASP.

My flight cost 88 euro. My refund hadn’t arrived.

The phone calls I made to acquire said refund cost 82 euro.

That’s right. For a flight I never took and that I had every right to cancel, not to mention I had to book another flight with another airline last fucking minute at considerable extra dollar, in total for this flight I never set foot on I have spent 17o euro. Unbefucking lievable. I started angry emailing their customer care addresses, obviously I’d be just as well asking Amy Winehouse for my money back (too soon?) And today I got a very short reply to my 3000 word essay on common decency and the decline in airline standards, stating a mysterious “refund: strike action. 88eur”

Fantastic, oh bastardy ones. I think so, I presume that was a message to tell me my refund is going to be processed now. I hope. So now my refund will arrive on my card that was stolen from me and I can’t get money from because I have no ID to go into the bank with and the wankers won’t trust my honor as a gentleman or a scholar that I am who I say I am…. and now I owe the phone company the same amount and I don’t have it because this month I bought….

many dresses, leather sandals, a kindle, books for my kindle, food, etc,

as well as having my wallet stolen.

 

Oh and to top it off,

today I decided to take a sneaky one hour lunch break instead of half an hour. I never take an hour, I’m not supposed to because I have to close the shop to go for lunch so we’re losing sales.

But I thought, ah fuck it… my dad-boss won’t notice, if he calls the shop as he sometimes does, he’ll just think I’m on my normal lunch and won’t know whether I took it at 3 or 3.30 or whenever…

And so I went to the bank, argued about my identity for longer than was necessary without any (positive) outcome, bought a sandwich, and sauntered back to work with minutes to spare for a coffee and smoke.

And there was a flashing light on the phone. The number was my dad’s.

I called imediately.

“hey, just got back from lunch and saw you called…”

“You’re just back now? I was wondering where you were, I called you a bunch of times!”

I’m a little surprised, he never calls repeatedly.

Why was he calling me over and over again?

Because there was a fucking EARTHQUAKE.

That’s right. Of course, I didn’t even notice. I don’t pick up on things, usually.

But the whole city was “paralysed with fear” after 20 seconds of tremors.

The earthquake cracked a few tiles in a few buildings and some offices were evacuated, all in all a piss poor earthquake and 4.3 on the richter scale, (thank the almighty fuck!) but it was enough of an earthquake to draw attention to my ONLY hour lunch I took.

A fucking earthquake, can you believe my luck?

I know, I know… I’m luckier than people who die in earthquakes or whose plates fall off the shelves and welcome them home from work with piles of pointy debris and cleaning to do.

But… the one time I sneak off for a long lunch.

A fucking earthquake.

 

I think it’s pretty clear what’s going on.

I need to pick a religion and start throwing virgins into volcanos, or covering my seductive hair in some cloth.

I have obviously angered gods. But which ones?

Advertisements

2 responses to “I’m a fucking optimist, people, it’s the WORLD that keeps finishing my wine.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s