LOUNGING AND LOVING IT!

WHAT WE DID ON OUR NIGHT OFF

SHAMELESS PLUG COMING UP

see if you can spot it!

i work where i work to earn money. don’t we all. it’s not for the love of it, even though i have been with the same firm for nearly 23 years.

at the weekends i do what i would LOVE to get paid for. i don’t get paid for it, i pay to do it. i pay a lot to do it. worth every penny.

this is where i spend my sunday nights

it’s my little bit of heaven. my radio “studio”

from 8pm to 1am sunday night i broadcast my radio show, via the interweb and my own radio station. all perfectly legit and legal. i hold a broadcast license.

and last night i had the honour of talking to Tippers and his lovely Mrs, all too briefly mind. it’s great when you get to talk to someone and hear their voice after “talking” via twitter as we do. have a listen. (audioboo playing silly beggars.)

cheers guys. we’ll do it again.

ttfn.

sime.

(of course, should you want to listen, just go to the radio site. there’s a podcast recording there)

WORKS EVERY TIME*

there ARE advantages of working nights sometimes. a steady flow of extremely attractive young ladies, most of whom have drunk maybe a little too much is one of them. like this week.

this week there have been occasions of young hotties draping themselves all over me. some i’ve known for a while, others are new acquaintances. kinda makes my night.

even more when a conversation like the following happens:

#1: “have they just been throwing themselves all over you?”

me: “yes”

#1: “what the fuck…… how do you do it?”

#2: “what you got that i don’t have?”

me: “simple. i charm them, i don’t smarm them. make em laugh. simple”

and that’s the thing. don’t push it, make them smile, make them comfortable. have a laugh. but also know just how far you can push them. know your audience. like tonight. three of em, well oiled, having a laugh and i am sat there watching. they start to chat, we have a bit of a laugh, i take the piss out of how drunk they are, then just as they are about to leave, one decides to pick up a packet of Kit Kats and pretends to put them up her (very short) skirt. well what is a guy to do?

me: “there are so many things i could say right now about fingers getting stuffed into your pants! but being a gentleman, i won’t”

she fell about in fits. her and her mates.

still, got me a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek when they left.

see, it’s not WHAT you say, it’s what you DON’T say.

30 second’s after they left, the same two colleagues were stood in front of me.

#1: “you just had another two?”

me: “yup, three of em”

#2: “how. the. fuck? there i am slaving my bollocks of, and you sit there like budda and they fall all over you! HOW?”

me: “charm, not smarm. works every time”

not bad for a fattie.

sometimes i love my job.

ttfn.

sime.

^*almost

WELCOME TO THE PREACHER MAN.

 

One nightshift at Menzies World Cargo I was drowsing at my desk – as you do – listening to Absolute Radio (I think it may have still been called Virgin Radio then actually) when the DJ asked for any crap Christmas bonuses from employers.

I called and got through live on air – the entire night shift were tuned in through four seperate cargo sheds.
“We have an anonymous caller from Menzies World Cargo at Heathrow” announced the dj “And what Christmas bonus did Menzies give you then?”
“They gave us vouchers for various outlets. WH Smith, Blockbuster, Our Price, Sainsbury etc etc etc” I said

“Isn’t that quite good?” asked the dj innocently
“They gave us the vouchers late – on the 31st of December” I replied
“Well, even so you got something” he insisted
“Yes” I agreed, “vouchers that expire on the 31st of December”
The cargo sheds were in hysterics, my voice was recognised by Shift Managers and a couple of ‘brown noser’ SM’s grassed me up. Senior management were apoplectic. However, as I hadn’t been formerly identified on radio and Menzies employed a number of ‘northerners’ management could do nothing but glare at me and feel suitably embarrassed after the dj had finished the call with “Well I guess you guys aren’t going to work very hard for such a crappy employer then?”
Apparently Menzies requested a copy of the telephone call from Absolute, who declined the request.

the preacher.

CAN’T GO TO THE MATTRESS

the worst thing about working permanent nights?

weekends.

trying to live a normal life for those two days, nigh on impossible.

you try to sleep a bit on the first day, but not too much so you can sleep later. but i always fail. no matter how much or how little i have and i always seem to be awake all night both nights. thank the lord for dvd’s!

currently playing?

the mother in law bought me the full set for christmas.

i saw every episode when they were on telly, except for the last half dozen. no idea why. but thought i’d start form the beginning and work my way through to the end. as i write this i am on season 1, episode 8.

that’s the 3rd disc in the 1st box.

the total running time is 4675 minutes.

top viewing.

only problem with watching it. i have an urge for italian food!

oh well. see you later.

ttfn

sime.

OH IN THAT CASE…….

for some reason we don’t get that many lifters at night. maybe it’s cos we have vigilant staff. thats vigilant, not vigilantly!

or maybe word has been spread these last few years about our night guard. he’s a top bloke, and a good mate now. 5’6”. mid fifties and more limbs than teeth. but he’s a star. and like a jack russel. to look at, not intimidating. but like i tell all the cocky chavs that start to mouth off and ask:

“what would you be able to do if i just grab summat and run?”

“do you REALLY think he’d be stood here instead of some young lad, if he can’t do the job”

or as he puts it:

“try it. see how far you get”

not many do. those that do soon regret it. it’s like a rabbit bringing down an elephant.

fortunately/unfortunately, most get stopped at the door and don’t put up much of a struggle. we’ve ahd a couple of classics lately. the first wasn’t a stop and arrest, but WAS funny.

i spy a gent put his hand in the pick and mix sweets, take one out and put it in his mouth. this was our conversation:

ME: “we’d prefer it if you didn’t do that”

HIM: “what”?

ME: “they are to buy not to test”

HIM: “it was one”

ME: “yes, and? they aren’t free. a sweet, a grape, it’s all the same. it’s called ‘grazing’ and as such it’s shoplifting, therefore theft”

HIM: “i spend over £200 a week in here every week”

ME: “it’s not a topic thats up for discussion sir, and if you are seen to do it again, we shall have no choice to ask you to leave the store and you will be banned from ever returning. to this and every store of ours”

HIM: “put it on my fucking bill” and off he walks to continue his shop.

now i know there will be those reading this that will say it’s only one sweet. maybe. but if everyone did it…… and rules are rules. sounds a bit jobsworthy i know. but a sweet, a dvd, a bottle of scotch. all the same.

anyhoo, he finished his shopping and on the way out he passed me. again we had a chat.

HIM: “what’s your name?”

ME: gives name. “you want my employee number too mate? i can give it you”

HIM: “just your name”

ME: “ok. look, if you want to speak to a manager, i will gladly ring him to come chat. but as i said previosuly, it’s not something that is open to discussion”

HIM: “i don’t need to talk to your boss, i know who to talk to”

ME: “ok. can i have your name?”

HIM: “why?”

ME: “well, if i am to be brought into the office over this i’d like a point of reference, and that’s be your name”

HIM: “you’ll be in the office. you insulted me. called me a thief”

ME: “no….. YOU took something that you hadn’t paid for, and had no intention of paying for, and THAT is theft. so please, report me”

he stomped off again. not seen him since. i contacted my gaffer asap, told him, told him who my witnesses were, and he said not to worry. this week i found out that he had rung our head office, who as a matter of procedure got in touch with the store, and when asked were to tell the manager they spoke to that they fully agreed with what i had said.

1-0 to the good guys.

in reference to the title of this post, if that’s his way of thinking, then i have worked for the company coming up for 23 years. i daren’t think of what i have spent. so tomorow i may take home one of the huge flatscreen telly’s.

doofus.

ttfn,

sime

NO DOES MEAN NO, NO MATTER….

so wednesday night was a toughy. not works wise, but mentally. let me try and explain a few things first.

the name of my employer i won’t divulge, for reasons i will tell another time. we are pretty close to the city centre. i work 9:30pm – 6:30am. up to midnight we have the usual mix of customers, but after that it tends to be a mixture of police, pimps, prostitutes, dealers and taxi drivers. oh and a phalanx of student types. strangely at the moment mainly of an oriental persuasion. all of whom are most welcome. as long as they deport themselves in a reasonable manner, they are all customers the minute they walk through the door, regardless of what they do outside of the store. who would i be to judge? i have done things in my 40 years that some may find reprehensible.

there used to be one of our “local business women”that came in regularly, and always had a smile, was chatty and funny, and without fail ALWAYS left with something for her daughter. one night she came in and was carrying some feta cheese salad amongst other selected items. she got to the tills and realised that the oil/juice from the tub of feta had leaked all down her front. this caused her to launch into a torrent of bad language that would make a docker blush. i walked over to her and quietly said

“do me a favour (name withheld), calm it down eh?”

“but look at me i’m covered in the fucking stuff!”

“yes, but think about it, there are worse things you could be covered in, and in half an hour you will be home and you can put it in to soak….job done”

“oh sime, why is it you can always calm me down eh?”

“thats because your a customer love. nowt more, nowt less.” and as long as you behave while in here, thats all you will ever be”

and with that she was happy again and gone. but thats my philosophy. and i digress.

wednesday night at about 23:15, a young lad came into the store, said summat to the security guard, and both of them pegged it out the door. odd. i followed, no sign of them. i tried to get in touch with the guard on our radios. no joy. walking further out into the car park, still no sign. no. he was up the far end, the dark, non lit part. there one of our “regulars” was lying on the floor, where she had been dumped. pushed out of a car after being attacked by two males. not in a good way.

no, thats an understatement. she was a fucking mess. phone out, 999, POLICE!

the 5-0 turned up in record time. en mass. ambulance came. she wouldn’t let the police near her. only our guard and da taxi driver. as she said “i know them, i don’t know you”. fair comment after her ordeal. she was finally loaded into the ambulance. car park cordoned off. statements taken. that part of the car park closed for nigh on five hours while people went over it with a fine tooth comb.

i was shocked.

i know this kind of thing happens. the picture above gives you some statistics. nearly 700,000 forcible rapes per year. you can read it in the paper every day, but it’s just another page. “tomorrows chip paper” as someone once said. but when it’s someone you know, no matter how well, it kinda knocks the wind out of your sails. and it’s a risk that the poor lass takes any time she gets i na car, yes, i am aware of that, but at the end of the day NOBODY deserves what happened to her on wednesday. nobody. one of the female coppers said to us, “you know, a lot of the time they cry rape, and you know it’s bullshit, they are trying to get back at someone, but there was no doubt about her story tonight. i have never seen anyone in that state” she looked pale and shaken, and as one of our regular coppers, we’ve heard of what she’s had to deal with. so it must have been bad.

she came in to thank us after being released by the hospital. she came in with “her dad”*. at about 5am. apparently the police had caught one of them earlier. him and the car were at the station. so a little bit of good news. the “dad” had me and the guard biting our tongues though. when she was dropped off at her house, he had left the key in the door. consequently, in his own words…

“she bloody woke me up. i was fast asleep”

YOUR “DAUGHTER”* HAS JUST BEEN RAPED BY TWO MEN, TORN TO RIBBONS IN THE TENDERIST OF AREAS AND ALL YOU ARE BOTHERED ABOUT IS BEING WOKEN UP? FUCKING HELL!

obviously, this was said after he’d left. that was one argument i didn’t want to get into at 5am!

i’m sorry if this has been a bit of a downer on a friday morning, but had to get it out of my system. next one will be lighter, i promise.

enjoy your weekends.

ttfn,

sime.

*neither myself or the guard believe for one minute that he is her dad. not when you hear how they talk to/about each other.

COMFORTABLY NUMB

this is where we’re at.

if you work nights, and fancy adding to this blog, then get in touch. mail me your e-mail address to:

sfrstudio@live.co.uk or DM me it on twitter @barnsleysime

so, time to get the ball rolling…….

TO  DRINK OR NOT TO DRINK?

do you like a tipple when you get home? i know i do. especially in the summer.

there’s no better feeling on a cloudless summer’s morning than sitting on my back step with my “bucket” (as the boy calls it) full of a decent Grand Reserve Rioja watching the neighbours setting off to work. thankfully, after living here for 14 years, and doing nights for most of them, they are now used to it and realise i don’t have some sort of problem!

my thinking has always been that if io finished at 7pm, i’d probably come home and have a drink, so 7am is just the same.

or as the boy puts it….

“beer for breakfast”.

that little sod is going to get me locked up one day.

ttfn

barnsley sime