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Mar. 19th, 2006 11:11 amI disapprove of work. I'm blasting out this entry while I remember.
Five hours of driving around and manoevering and people not fucking signposting properly. My knee aches something chronic from the clutch which is worrying as I have to go to dancing in, uh, half an hour. Also! People from Howard Place, which is just off Hope Street! Do not tip! No, seriously, that is not right. He's living in the street just off where Prince William lived. You're looking at what, £150 minimum a week there if you're lucky? And he's wearing a GIG (Glocal Investment Group - The Group That Inspires Us To Act Unethically And Makes Lots Of Money, Just Like Daddy) hoodie and he didn't tip. despite the fact I was swaying with exhaustion when he opened the door.
I'm sorry, I know other people have a harder job, but it was five hours non-stop and all I get is £2 for a delivery. Fucking tip me!
But I complain with only small cause. The rich people always tip me about 10p or pay with exact change or watch while I scrabble around in my box trying to utilise some slightly dodgy mental maths to work out the change. However! Someone from DRA tipped me a fiver! I wasn't going to take it and checked four times if they wanted any change, but no. I made, uh, £45. I got home at eleven (I had to cash up) so lets say it's six hours of work, and that works out to be £7.50 an hour. Not too bad at all, but god, I worked for it. Thank God for DRA, that's what I say.
And now, I have a dance class and probably should try to wake Katie up again. Then I have to try and clean frantically because Simon is here in, um, five hours and a bit! *dances*
Ha, this song is appropriate. Alhough my mum has one of the cars this advert is from and I'm told she now does the dance. This scares me.
~Hathy_Col~
Five hours of driving around and manoevering and people not fucking signposting properly. My knee aches something chronic from the clutch which is worrying as I have to go to dancing in, uh, half an hour. Also! People from Howard Place, which is just off Hope Street! Do not tip! No, seriously, that is not right. He's living in the street just off where Prince William lived. You're looking at what, £150 minimum a week there if you're lucky? And he's wearing a GIG (Glocal Investment Group - The Group That Inspires Us To Act Unethically And Makes Lots Of Money, Just Like Daddy) hoodie and he didn't tip. despite the fact I was swaying with exhaustion when he opened the door.
I'm sorry, I know other people have a harder job, but it was five hours non-stop and all I get is £2 for a delivery. Fucking tip me!
But I complain with only small cause. The rich people always tip me about 10p or pay with exact change or watch while I scrabble around in my box trying to utilise some slightly dodgy mental maths to work out the change. However! Someone from DRA tipped me a fiver! I wasn't going to take it and checked four times if they wanted any change, but no. I made, uh, £45. I got home at eleven (I had to cash up) so lets say it's six hours of work, and that works out to be £7.50 an hour. Not too bad at all, but god, I worked for it. Thank God for DRA, that's what I say.
And now, I have a dance class and probably should try to wake Katie up again. Then I have to try and clean frantically because Simon is here in, um, five hours and a bit! *dances*
Ha, this song is appropriate. Alhough my mum has one of the cars this advert is from and I'm told she now does the dance. This scares me.
~Hathy_Col~
