» Accidental innuendo

..is it just me??
Twenty years of being in an office environment (relaxed down here in the Antipodes) has provided a few examples that have caused blushes for a few, and laughes for many.

This Christmas found us sailing on a square-sailed schooner around the harbour off Hobart. Secret Santa resulted in one of my workmates receiving face paint, and proceeding to corner a number of us and painting Christmas decorations on our well-liquored mugs.

The afternoon was well and truely rounded out when her mother, along for the ride and similarly annointed with paint, turned to me and asked "if mine was starting to get stiff yet?" I managed to restrain myself, and replied that yes indeed my facepaint was starting to dry...

It pales though in comparison to my party-piece. Reviewing a procurement contract for my contracts manager, I was, in my normal way, efficient in picking up spelling mistakes and grammer issues. I sat down on the spare chair at her deak, and commented that in my normal manner I had been anal about spelling.

She smiled and said in a clear voice "that's alright Aln - I like anal..."

Cue silence, much blushing (on both sides) and a story that I will treasure for ever.
(Fri 13th Jun 2008, 13:51, More)

» Guilty Secrets

hmmm.....
where to start...

As a child we had a school banking scheme - you know, take your bankbook to school once a week with 20 cents in it and they collect them up, bank the money for you and give it back the next day. Encourage the young'uns to save, and all that. One week I spent the money instead. Told Mum I'd lost the bankbook on the bus to school... kept it in the wardrobe for weeks until I mustered the courage to take it out, stuff it down my pants, ride my bike to the rubbish dump out the back of the farm and bury it under a dead cow...

Roll forward to school. Wandering out from under the balcony having just bhad a ciggie, and was surprised by the headmaster. Him: "what are you doing out here?"
Me: "Feeling a it sick Sir" (and it wasn't a lie, as I could feel my testicles retracting into my body at the thought of being caned for being caught smoking....)

At University I slept with my best friend's girlfriend, and she (drawn to my animal magnetism and the ability to lick my own nose...) starting going out with me. The bastard got the last laugh as I found them in bed together six months later.

Still, the icing on the cake: I left my wife of nineteen years for a lady I met on the internet. Actually, that's not quite the truth. We lived on opposite sides of the world, and I hadn't met her at that stage. So I left my wife for someone I'd never met. And I could never tell my (ex)wife why I left her....

The only slightly redeeming feature is that we'll be married soon (having met and decided that it was the best thing I've ever done).
(Mon 3rd Sep 2007, 11:22, More)

» Call Centres

..torture
The most infuriating part of working for a company that has a call centre (I used to work for an electricity company back in NZ) is when you are subjected to the incompetence that you've been working hard for five years to stamp out.

I remember once when I rang up about my account. Some issue with my bill, as I recall. I had the misfortune to get what appeared to be a trainee on the phone, and recounted my problem. "No problem" she said "please hold the line".
30 seconds later, the dulcet tones of some unsuccessful Jazz performer were replaced with "Can you please hold on again, Sir - I need to talk to my supervisor"
Another 3 minutes of lift music ensued.

The torture was due to the fact that I was sitting at my desk back in head office, looking at my account (we only had read-only access), and I was dying to tell her that all she needed to do was press two letters, move to the next screen, scroll down 1 page, edit the third field with the correct answer, and we'd be done.

So the choice was: press 1 to go all "Senior manager and just fix the freakin' thing" on her; or press 2 to sit and wait while she found a janitor that had more experience than her to come and fix my problem.

*sigh* it's lucky I like jazz, really. Your call is important to us, please hold the line....

length: 15mins, and that's on a good day..
(Fri 4th Sep 2009, 16:58, More)

» School Days

French class....
While school may be a few years past now, there are still a few memories that I like to trundle out when I am feeling nostalgic.

I was lucky enough to go to Boarding School (private school down in NZ, I think it's termed a public school in the UK) and received a small scholarship from the Govt, on account of the fact that I was taking subjects I couldn't back in my back-country hicksville school.

One of the subjects I was taking was French (I was luckier than my sister, who had 5 years of learning Latin....) and we were lucky enough to have a cool teacher - Mr Fraser - think beard, flares and a sense of humour.

In my third year at college (age 15 or so) French had ceased being compulsary, and as a result the class was small - a dozen of us, made up of those upper class twats whose parents forced them to learn French to give them some culture, a few of us being forced to do it, and one or two people who were genuinely interested.

So we are sitting in class one day, in the midst of a lesson about verbs or what-not, and suddently one of the afore-mentioned twats puts up his hand to ask a question.

"Sir.. what's French for c**t?"

Cue burst of laughter from the rest of us, and (thankfully) a ry smile on the face of the teacher.

"Don't worry about that, just get back to your verbs" was his response (in hindsight, rather well contained).

Next thing all you could hear was a rythmic light thumping on desks.. "c**t... c**t... c**t..." slowly getting louder as we all joined in..

After about 20 seconds of this, and sensing that if we continued it would be audible outside the classroom, Mr Fraser (to his eternal credit) then proceeded to give us a 15 minute lesson on French swear-words, and phrases /insults.

To this day, and nearly 30 years after, I can still remember the french for "go and f**k yourself" while "Janet and John go the bakery to buy a croissant" has long since faded into the past.

PS. As I recall, the utilisation of choice phrases in the end-of-year exam did not assist greatly...

PPS. My mother, herself a French teacher and shocked when I failed my mid-term exams, took advantage of my convelescing from a minor foot operation in the school holidays to force me to spend 5 hours a day improving my French skills. I should thank her for the solid 54% I achieved for the year!!
(Fri 30th Jan 2009, 22:09, More)

» Personal Ads

Coffee and.....
Back in the day when I was still married (well, technically I am still married as I am waiting for my divorce to come through, but that's neither here-nor-there, really) my ex and I moved to a new city. She wasn't working, so struggled to meet new friends.

After putting an ad on a website somewhere she met a guy who was keen to catch up for coffee. Seemed OK, so she did. Things went along fine for a month or so, until he asked if he could come around to our house. My ex, who was comfortable meeting him in public places, demurred at this extension of their friendship.

The coup-de-grace, really in their relationship (fleeting as it was ) was when he confessed not long after that that his wife "really didn't understand him" and all he really wanted my ex to do was watch as he pleasured himself in our living room....

Needless to say , like a hot potato he was dropped.

Continuing on though, we had mixed success (after she convinced me to try swinging...). The lows were low - the couple we met where the lady proceeded to proved that she could, in fact, crush beer cans between her ass cheeks.....

The highs were minimal but very good - a sexy redhead who was fantastic in bed....

I guess it has all worked out in the end - I met the soon-to-be Mrs Alnhelz on line - not in a dating site but on an online community.. we've been going out just over 2 years, I'm in the process of moving halfway around the world to be with her..
(Fri 14th Sep 2007, 13:22, More)