Manic Monday

Well, today is a bit frenetic. We're doing the invoices for April, and had been making good progress. Had. Past tense.
We just discovered that half the relevant dates have been put in as 2006 rather than 2007. Not only have we had to go through and change all the wrong dates, we've had to start at the very beginning for the invoices. All over again. At the beginning. Let me tell you, contrary to popular opinion, the beginning is NOT, in fact, a very good place to start. It is a bad place, a depressing place, a bleak place.
I wanted a half day today too. Poot.

And this morning our car got broken into. Snuffle. All they got was an empty adidas bag that cost £8 from TK Maxx, but still. If you see anyone trotting around Folkestone with an empty adidas bag, then cosh them over the head and return the bag to us, and just hope they weren't someone who had just taken all their unwanted clothes to a charity shop and were just wandering home with their now empty bag. Possibly you should just check that they are in fact the dirty dirty thieves before hitting them with anything heavy. Just a thought.

I LIVED THROUGH THE QUAKE OF 2007!

More news on my boxhat

Which sounds better - boxhat, or hatbox? They just both sound so good, I'm not sure I can chose between them. It's like choosing between my children... I imagine it's like choosing between my children, as I don't as yet have any. Let's put it another way - it's like choosing a favourite pair of shoes out of all my shoes. I just couldn't do it! They're all so pretty!

Once again I have been distracted from the point I was trying to make.

We have had very few genuine caption competition entries. Quite a few from people who just wanted to play but didn't actually need lessons, like driving instructor for Ashford Andy Holder's latest offering "The low level of wages takes effect as Amanda moves into her new home", which made me smile and probably would have won, if Andy were in need of lessons as opposed to being someone who gives them.

If I were a betting lady, I would put my money on the amusing entry "I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win I want to win!"

People, if you want to win over £200 worth of driving lessons, submit a caption now! Honestly, what's stopping you? It's £200! £200 you don't have to pay out for lessons and can instead spend on SHOES!

I love shoes.

Driving lessons in Gillingham

I'm really getting the hang of this answering the phone malarky. When I first started working for The Big Red L Company I wasn't so confident. In fact, I'll be straight with you; I was terrified. People kept calling up and asking me questions! About stuff I didn't know! More than once someone called up and I made up an answer, just to get them off the phone.
"How much do you charge for driving lessons in Gillingham?"
Gillingham. Gillingham! Gillingham...? I'd run it through my head so many times that it would begin to become a nonsense word, like gravy does if you say it too often (go on, say it. And again. Gravygravygravy!).
Gillingham.
Gillingham.
Then suddenly I'd remember Gillingham, and the only reason I've ever been there:
"Ice skating!"
There would be a pause on the other end as the other person wondered if they had incorrectly dialled and accidently reached Captain Non Sequitur. I would take advantage of their baffled silence to pull myself together.
"Sorry, yes, driving lessons in Gillingham...."
There would be another pause as I would desperately try to remember how to work the bookings database, before giving in and making the answer up.
"Driving lessons in Gillingham currently cost 10 bananas an hour."
Invariably the person on the other end would hang up, and I would be left feeling somewhat inadequate.
But now! Now I can chat and chat to people, and sometimes I put the phone down and wish I could make the person I just talked to about shoes my new best friend. A few times I've felt like calling someone back up and asking what they're up to tonight, but I think that might be a bit weird. So I do the next best thing and get the people I like on the phone the best deal I can.

You're still saying gravygravygravy to yourself, aren't you?

Caption Competition Launched...

Two posts in one day, Blimey O Reilly.

What does that even mean?
Anyway.

My friends, I have some exciting news.

The Big Red L has launched a caption competition!

WIN WIN WIN

So, feel free to enter, but if per chance you don't want to win our prizes of lessons, due to being out of the area or already driving around like a maniac, but would like to submit your caption for ever lasting fame and glory instead, this is the place to do it.

Tony, in his wisdom, has chosen the picture of me with my boxhat as the picture for June. No "It's an improvement" esque captions please, I've heard them all.

An example of a caption that made me smile was our Jason's, who supplied us with:

"How much are we paying for this office? It's about time they fixed the bloomin' roof!"

Also, if you're not a member here and want to be credited with your comic genius, put your name after your caption.

Example - "I have a box on my head." - Amanda

Aaaaaaaand.... go!

Never ignore a pooh-pooh

I'm sure every business gets them. I'd put money on the fact that every driving school gets them. That phone call, the one that you can tell a mile off from the deadened eyes of the unfortunate who lucked out and picked up. You listen in, rolling your eyes at other people in the office and snigger as your colleague tries in vain to explain something, understand an accent, or just get a word in edgeways. Yesterday I was that unfortunate. After getting off the phone after a particularly taxing phone call I turn to Tony.
"Crikey, Tony, that last one spoke as slowly as mud rolling down a slight hill."
Tony smiles preoccupiedly, as he is working hard on sorting out the SaFED invoices. Suddenly what I've said trickles through, and he turns round with a devilish grin.
"Give it to Peter Blight."
Sniggering quietly to himself Tony turns back to his invoices. I shrug. Someone has to take this chap, and Peter Blight is as good an instructor as any. In fact, I recently read some feedback about him that said, and I quote "He was always happy, chilled, and most importantly never shouted at me. Even when I kept going round the roundabout in third gear, or reversing when I should have been going forward." That, to me, sounds like exactly the kind of instructor needed for a chap like the one I just spoke to. I type in the message to Peter and promptly forget all about it.
I got in this morning - early, I'd like to point out - and discovered the following email in Tony's inbox (edited, so as not to offend any one in particular - they are a customer, you know):

So... I thought

I haven't had a pupil from The Big Red L for three months, and I have a new one (recommended) starting tomorrow...

Why would they send me one out of the blue?

Surely I would let them know if I was in need of a pupil, wouldn't I?

They don't usually think like this (helpfully...)

What's the catch?

Then I rang Jeff...

Jeff doesn't just speak slowly...

Jeff speaks at seven words a minute.

Jeff doesn't sound like the sharpest tool in the box. Then it all became clear...

Amanda put down the phone and breathed a heavy sigh, "Who shall we send this one to, Tony?" she asked with a note of mild desperation in her voice. Tony thought for a full two seconds, "Peter Blight," he said, without looking up from his keyboard. "He likes a challenge." Amanda smiled mischievously. Sweet revenge, she thought. This will teach him to 'pooh pooh' my creative expressions. She turned back to her computer and tapped in the brief message. Then, savouring the moment, she lifted her index finger, hovered over the 'send' key with a long delicious pause, then jabbed it down. Problem solved, thought Amanda wickedly, as she leant back with her arms slowly folding behind her head. Then she allowed he pleasure to course warmly through her body. "Cup of coffee, Tony?" she asked brightly. Amanda unfolded her arms and stood up, beaming at nothing in particular. Today was going to be a good day, she decided. A very good day.

Ah Peter, how well you know us.

"pfitschu! pfitschu pfitschu!"

I have a ridiculous sneeze. I've sneezed my ridiculous sneeze for as long as I can remember; perhaps it was a conscious decision made when I was old enough to realise that both my parents sound like angry elephants - 'blarrrrghchoo!' - when they sneeze, and with the wisdom of a five year old I thought that was not the image I would like to present to the world. But something went wrong; instead of the ladylike 'atchoo' I was aiming for, my sneeze is, phonetically, a bit like this: 'pfitschu! pfitschu pfitschu! pfitschu pfitschu pfitschu pfitschu! pfitschu!'
It's embarrassing. I was in Chambers Coffee Shop in Folkestone with my sister a day or two ago, and I sneezed my ridiculous sneeze. My sister, by now well used to my sneeze, continued our conversation unperturbed. Unperturbed, that is, until we realised the coffee shop was silent, and everyone was looking at us. Apart from a few people who were slower to catch on and were still peering under tables for a small yapper type dog merrily barking to itself.
My Jurassic cold is still hanging on - I don't know how, it's been about four weeks. I congratulate it for its tenacity, but wish it would just jog on. Consequently I sneeze quite often, and every time Graham and Tony look up in surprise.
"pfitschu! pfitschu pfitschu!"
Graham looks at Tony.
"Is there no way to stop her doing that?"

Making The Impossible Possible

It's 10.20 am and Tony isn't in. As mentioned before, he's off doing some van driver training for ITV, so Lucas and I have got the office to ourselves. Party? Nope. In fact, because Lucas hates the radio with a passion, we are sitting in silence. Silence, except for when the phone rings, as it does now and then, and as it did a moment or two ago. On the other end was Stephen Lowrie, driving instructor for the Dartford area.
"I got a text from Tony yesterday about a lady called Faye, but the number he sent had too many digits in."
I check. It does have too many digits in. I'm not sure what to do - the only contact detail we have for her is an incorrect number. We could wait and see if she calls back, but that's just not how we like to do business.
"I tell you what," I answer, "I expect Tony accidently hit two numbers instead of one. I'll call every combination until I find her."
Lucas looks at me and shakes his head in a sarcastic 'you're-being-totally-unrealistic' way but I'm fairly confident that I'll get through sooner or later - there's only a few combinations it could be if Tony has accidently hit two numbers next to each other instead of one. If I try all those and still can't get hold of her, I'll give up, but in the happy knowledge that I Tried. I write down each combination. There's more than I thought there would be. I mentally postpone my to-do list until after lunch; this is going to take a while. I dial the first number. It rings; that's a good start. Someone picks up.
"Faye speaking."
Oh. That was easy. I'm a little disappointed; I feel as though I've sat down to enjoy Lord of the Rings and in the first ten minutes Frodo has helicoptered over Mount Doom, chucked the One Ring in, and got home in time for tea.


Take me home

April Fools

"What are you doing?" Tony just asked me.

The truth is that I was sitting doing nothing for a minute , wondering what to write about for today's blog. I don't like to just write any old nonsense, and today has been pretty uneventful. I've updated the accounts ready to switch over to the next tax year, and I've just finished a basic database to record the free 1.5 hour driving lessons vouchers that we're giving away to people who haven't learnt with The Big Red L before (ooh, there's a chance for a shameless plug; tell all your friends, and neighbours too), driving instructors for Folkestone Peter Blight and Robbie Wilde have been in; Peter popped in twice, once seemingly to pooh-pooh my beloved blog and another time to talk to Tony, and Robbie had his usual black coffee. What else? Not much. We had lunch in the cafe downstairs, a jolly tasty steak sandwich, bantered with my buddy Paula who works in the cafe, ate some chocolate... and that's about it. We had a brief elastic band fight, but I've already dedicated one blog entry to that and it would look a little sad to have to revisit old topics. In fact, I hate to say it, but today has been a little boring. I check the time. Nearly 3pm. Another 2 hours to go. Working 9 - 5, what a way to make a living.

Anyway.

"I'm thinking about what to write in the blog." I answer.

"Make something up."

I think for a second. I look about the office for props. Nothing. Oh wait - there's a cardboard box.

"Tony, if you put this on your head, I can take a photo and make up some story about it."

I put it on my head to demonstrate. Tony looks at me sceptically.

"You really are bored, aren't you?"

Yes.

"OK, write about how I've been called up by ITV to do some van training on Wednesday, but say that I'm going back on TV to be really famous, or something. They've called me twice about it now."

"Wasn't one of the times a wrong number?"

"Yes, but that's not the point."

I could write a story about Tony doing some van driver training for ITV. Or, I could take a photo of myself with a cardboard box on my head instead.



Incidently, there are three sentences above snaffled from song lyrics. Anyone to answer correctly wins a small hobnob. Or a free 1.5 hour driving lesson.