Waterstone’s sacks employee over blog (Silicon)

It would appear that Homebase let me off relatively lightly for my posts when I worked there. Then again, they probably just never figured out how to use a computer enough to find the site.

Cash incentives for volunteers (Guardian)

Last time I checked, if you get paid then it’s not volunteering. And £45/week is more than I used to get paid at Homebase.

I still don’t know who my babies are. They must be well overdue by now.

As a response to Jack, I went through my whole first year without a saucepan. It’s really not needed. Just whack things in bowls and in the microwave, much easier. A good baking tray is essential though. Come to think of it, I don’t think I actually ate beans during my first year, either. But there ya go.

It turns out that udder oitment can give you acne. So if you, erm, like cows, then don’t go rubbing their udders on your face. Or something.

I still have the best part of a month left of my holidays, so I expect I really won’t be doing much that requires posting.

As an update on my housey-housey (oh, how I miss Mr Evans and Ms Roslin in a morning – acutally, I really don’t) it is pretty much finished. I’m in the downstairs bedroom, which is at the front of the house and so incredibly handy for being nosy at the neighbours (especially since the window is fitted with funky one-way glass like in the Big Brother house – and a ‘stylish’ net curtain). The bathroom is finished (finally). The kitchen sink drains directly into the back yard, which is possibly problematic. And the stairs are unfeasibly steep, but as I have no reason to go upstairs that shouldn’t be a problem. We also have a very comfortable leather suite. And two fridges. So if you’re ever in the North-East and want to drop by….

I went in Homebase the other day, and found that I didn’t get that sense of dread that I’ve always previously felt. I was served in Tesco by a friend from college too, who told me that she’d been offered a job at Homebase (before the one at Tesco) but turned it down because of how bad I’d made it seem. I think the mental scars are healing, a year after I left.

Oh. and I don’t think you’d be able to fit an ASBO on your face. Nor is David Blunkett a qualified tatooist (at least, I hope not).

In the saddest of possible admissions, I’m off to read the BMA News now. Good bye.

PS – I also have GMail invites. Email me if you want one.

Originally posted on The LBSC

This is it. The end has come. The four horsemen have sailed idly by. And so have four Norsemen, the inventors of fish and chips.

I have now nearly officially left Hombase. Tomorrow is my last day. This is something I really shouldn’t dwell on, as it would upset poor, poor JRC who has no immediate plans to leave. I have much sympathy for you. For those of you who have noticed my habit from the last few posts of , whereas for those of you who haven’t, well, you won’t know and you’ll also miss out on other stuff. So ner.

Coincidentally, this happens on the same day as the last scenes of Brookside are being filmed. What does this mean? As someone who has never watched an episode of Brookside in his life, I have absolutely no idea.

It also corresponds with this, my official Silver Jubilee Post. My 25th. I’ve polluted your mind in 25 little stages.

Worst joke I’ve heard all week: A man goes to a fancy dress party dressed normally, but with his girlfriend on his back. Someone asks what he’s come dressed as. He replies “A snail”. He is then asked who his girlfriend is. “Michelle”.

Worst West Wing Joke from seasons 1 through 4: “Why do French people only have one egg for breakfast? One egg is un ouef.”

How that was relevant is unclear to me, but never mind.

Today’s Sky News vote is: “Is it socially acceptable to smoke cannabis?”. The results are around about 50:50. This surprises me, as if the question had omitted the word “cannabis”, I bet quite a large majority would have said “no”, as that’s pretty much been the result of every survey that Sky have done on the issue.

I have received a new debit card today to replace my expired one. It’s a slightly different design, and includes a leaflet telling me that there is an area on the card in which I can have printed whatever text I like, up to 15 characters, to help me to identify the card. I just have to go into my branch and order a new one with my chosen text. I cannot tell you the effort it is taking to stop me going in and ordering one with “SWIPE IF A MORON” or “IDIOTS SWIPE ME” or similar on it.

Anyway, that’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll return, as if from the dead, in a few days time though (as I always have before).

Originally posted on The LBSC

It’s a title that’ll only be relevant the first time you visit. But at least it’s a title, and at least it is relevant to you. If this is the first time you’ve read this. Otherwise, sorry about the title, but thanks for coming back for more. Here’s a little puzzle to screw with your mind (not literally) and start my post for today…

You are on a game show. The aim of the show is to win a car. You are stood in front of three doors, one of which has a car behind it, two of which have goats behind them (for no other reason that it’s traditional in this particular puzzle). You are asked to choose a door. The presenter then opens one of the unchosen doors to reveal a goat, and asks if you want to change your mind about which of the remaining two doors you have chosen. Here is the question…Should you switch doors?

Well, the answer is yes. This fries my brain, as I couldn’t grasp the fact. I could only see that there were two doors left, one with a goat and one with a car, therefore it’s 50:50 and makes no statistical difference whether you change or not. But it does make a difference. See here for a detailed explanation as to why it matters.

What did you do on Saturday? I got hot and sweaty serving the every whim of complete strangers. I was even asked to punish one person, but had to get someone to help me (It’s not something I’m too experienced in). When one lady invited me to her car, JRC came with me to help me get it in there. But he seemed strangely quiet when she invited me back to her house, and positively ran off when we got the rope out. The joys of working at Homebase .

Sadly (not really), those joys are to soon end. I handed in my notice on Saturday. Please don’t cry. My last contracted day is Saturday 13th September. The reason for this can be summed up thus: BAAAAA. Not the bleating of a maniac murderous sheep, nor the start of a familiar refrain ending in “humbug”, but actually my A-Level grades. Yes, I did six A-Levels which classes me officially as a geek. But I’m a geek and proud. This also means that the sporadic posts here will be coming live from Stockton as of 4th October, as the good people of the North-East attempt to make me more, well, doctorish. In just five short years I could be operating on you. A thought that should, at the very least, make you think “BAAAAA!”. Unless you’re a mental patient, who might be thinking that anyway.

Joy of joys, the DTI has published HASS figures again. These are published annually, and are records of accidents people have in the home which cause them to end up in hospital. I used to rely on them heavily in my high-school years for public speaking competitions. Now I see them more as a stimulant to the medical mind. I would personally like to meet the single person who landed in hospital last year following an accident with a cape. Clothing can be hazardous, as any male who’s done their fly up too fast whilst drunk will tell you (strangely, I know on a personal level three people who have done just that). I would have been willing to bet that a sponge would be around about the safest thing in anybody’s home. Oh how we all laughed at Mr Burns’s demands for a spherical sponge so that the corners were not so painful. And yet, last year, almost three times as many people ended up in hospital from a sponge-related incident (11) than accidents with high voltage cables (4). If you’re into home security, here are some cold, hard facts: Padlocks? Pah, they only landed 13 people in hospital last year, they must be crap. And newfangled burglar alarms don’t fare much better – only 16 people hurt themselves. Try installing – dum dum dum – a doorbell. 62 people were admitted last year in doorbell related incidents, but that still doesn’t top the home security chart. Want to keep intruders well out of your home? Want to cause some Tony Martin style damage? Then equip your burglar with – a key. 87 key related incidents last year.

As I’ve used enough stats now, I’ll leave the HASS figures there. Except to wonder how 11 people injured themselves with artificial limbs. Or how 3 caused an accident with talcum powder.

For all of you people who were worried about my toe – come on, I know you’ve had sleepless nights over it – I’m happy to report that it’s feeling much better, and can now answer your questions and is happy to read your get well messages emailed to toe@sjhoward.co.uk.

You see, I’ll have a lot of sympathy for broken toes when I’m a doctor. In fact, I’ll be sympathetic to almost anyone. As long as none of the twelve people who arrived in A&E with sex or marital aid related accidents aren’t referred to me. Because then I’ll just point and laugh. Really, I’m sure I’ll be very good. Trust me, I’m a doctor (well, on my way at least).

Originally posted on The LBSC

No, this is not going to be a post for the more perverted among you…or is it? Frankly, no.

I’ve hurt my toe. My little toe. And it is at the point where it has become painful to walk.

Is there any less respectable and masculine an injury than breaking your little toe? Well, possibly (breaking a nail or damaging your limp wrists, being cases in point), but I did feel something of an idiot saying that I couldn’t do my normal job at work (walking round and helping customers) because I’d hurt my toe. So instead, I went in and answered the phones.

But, alas, that was not to last. For after two hours, I was sent home as they realised that if I wasn’t supposed to walk on it (I’m not), and I did so at work, it might make it worse and I’d sue them. So I was sent home. However, they did say they’d pay me for the day, so it’s not all bad. But it was noticeable that it took three people two hours to come to this conclusion.

So, peeps, you are to be deprived of my weekly Homebase missive. Unless you count the above, which I wouldn’t if I were you. I spent the time I gained building a sidebar for my browser. If you want to see it, go here . If you don’t, don’t.

If you’re wondering how I managed to do my toe: I slipped down the stairs. I was not drunk at the time, although this has been insinuated or just asked outright by, I would estimate, 90% of those who know about my toe. How this resulted in me hurting my little toe is a mystery to me. And I was there.

I really can’t express how surprisingly painful it is. I would’ve thought that it’d only be a little pain for a little toe, but, alas, no. Having never broken anything before, I’ve nothing really to compare it to, but if pain is related to bone size then I have great sympathy for those with massive broken bones. You – at the back – stop giggling, there is nothing funny about discussing bone size. I mean, it must be agony to break your leg or something. To be honest, it’s not actually that painful, but it’s more painful than you would expect, in my opinion.

That’s about all I’m going to post right now, because I feel completely stupid, frankly. And if you were expecting some mention of sucking in this post, you will be disappointed. Sorry to get your hopes up (Really, I’m not). The pain you experienced through your disappointment is your punishment for not having sympathy for my toe.

Good day to you.

Originally posted on The LBSC

At about half eleven this morning, we had a power cut. Many house alarms went off. One is still going off , and I am beginning to have violent tendencies – or at least get a little angry.

Why do alarm manufacturers not include some kind of timer mechanism? I mean, is burglar Boris really going to hang around for three hours after the alarm has gone off? Is burglar Boris going to hang around for three hours even if there isn’t an alarm?

(Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything wrong with people named Boris per sé, I just wanted the alliteration and burglar Bob, burglar Ben and burglar Barney all sound…well…wrong).

There was nothing that particularly annoyed me at work yesterday. Amazing, though I put it down to the fact that I really didn’t care about anything yesterday. Though the thought of Sir Fat Tony running amock with a chainsaw festered somewhat . We’re still chronically short staffed (‘…we have no-one on DIY, Power Tools, Plumbing or Building today so if you could look after those as well as the wallpaper I’d be grateful…’) but I’m used to that. I still have little or no idea about anything I’m selling :

‘…I’m looking for an oogaboogawhatsit’
‘Follow me!’
‘Why are we going to the electrical section, I’d have though it was in plumbing’
‘Sorry?’
‘Oogaboogawhatsits – won’t they be in plumbing’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you asked for a light switch! Silly Me!…Now…Can you see one?’
‘Yes, they’re right here’
‘Oh, I didn’t see them there. I must be blind, they’re right in front of me!’
‘Do you think this’ll fit my oogaboogerer?’
‘I couldn’t be sure, really. Does it look about right’
‘Yes’
‘Take it then, you can always bring it back if it’s wrong’

I even had a customer ask me if I knew what the thing he was asking for was…
I said ‘Yes, it’s that erm…you know…you err…’ whilst gesticulating wildly.
‘It’s sticky plastic’ came the response.
‘That’s right, you can put it into words so much better than I can’

We even had a letter of complaint from someone who’d bought a sun lounger and couldn’t use it because it hadn’t been sunny. And someone came in to complain about not having all the bits for a gazebo he’d bought. Turned out that he had only taken one box, despite the clear ‘BOX 2 OF 2’ labelling.

But the point is, there was nothing which especially aggravated me. I wasn’t asked to do anything inherently pointless, and no customers had a go at me for things outside of my control . In fact, no customers had a go at me at all.

So, all in all, my hellish day at Hombase was more…purgatorial than hellish this week.

But that damn alarm is more than making up for things.

Originally posted on The LBSC

It’s hot. And I’m not happy.

Some…person…from the house opposite (well, not quite opposite, but never mind) is insisting on playing the worst dance music imaginable at ridiculous volumes, thus disturbing my sweaty peace (as opposed to my sweaty piece, which is probably disturbing in itself).

Now, as the kindly neighbour I am, I chose not to complain. Yes, I let him (I assume he’s male) continue to deafen me, until his parents arrive home for lunch, and the “music” is stopped. Happy is me.

Then, predictably, the music starts up again, louder, in the afternoon. I become somewhat less calm and kindly, preferring instead to retaliate. So I find a copy of Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds, and play it as loudly as I can. So he turns his music up. So I give up. I hope you weren’t expecting some exciting triumphant finalé to that anecdote, because you’re not going to get one. If anyone has any suggestions for when the battle inevitably resumes tomorrow, please comment.

With reference to Homebase fans …I personally reduced most of the bigger ones to £14.99 on Saturday, which is quite impressive considering they started at £39.99. So that means they’re only really £11.99 with Staff Discount – that’s £28 off! I’ll finish this post before I turn into www.qvcuk.com.

Just to let you know, I have spell checked this post. For once. And I do know that there is some kind of tense mish-mash at the beginning. I’m choosing to ignore it rather than correct it. Do you speak English?

It’s just occurred to me that I never use the “I’m Feeling Lucky” button on Google. Is this a sign of deep psychological scarring of some sort?

I’ll end with the suitably cheery quote that got Michael Savage fired last week: “You should only get AIDS and die, you pig”. Have a nice hot day.

PS – This is about the fiftieth time I’ve reposted this now (no exaggeration, only hyperbole), mainly because of Fat Tony’s general inefficiency and presumptuousness. It’s not even hot any more.

Originally posted on The LBSC

Homebase, Saturday. Lunch hour. Managers discussing how to arrange cashiers to avoid long queues. I’m thinking, “Why not hire more cashiers?” (but that’s far too logical) when I’m awoken from my mental berating of all around by this gem…

“…Uh, what about that one on the end, I’ll have to have a word with her”
“Well, she’s very good when the customer arrives”
“Yes, but she stands there and looks so moody when customers are approaching”
“True, that’s because she’s shy. But she’s very good with them when they arrive”
“Well, I’ll have a word with her and we’ll keep her out the way on the end. Who do we have on who’s good?”
“That lad with the glasses, he’s the best”
“Who, Tom?”
“No, the one with the glasses and the dark hair. Ooh, you know…”
“Err…Oh, I know the one you mean”
“John! That’s it! John!”
“Yeah, he’s so polite! He’s definitely the best cashier we have”
“Well if we put him on checkout 4….”

Now, I feel that there are two distinct ways of looking at this:

A) The way Sir Fat Tony will inevitably take it

B) The fact that he does more work, and is nicer than everyone else despite being paid the same amount of money. Plus, if they think he’s very good there’s the possibility of him being put on customer services, especially since two staff have just left from there. This, at first, seems a very attractively amusing possibility until I come to the frightening realisation that if this happens he will inevitably call me any time anything needs doing, just out of pure spite for me mocking him now. So, in conclusion, I would like to offer this:

WELL DONE!

Moving on, in another piece of remarkable manager-ness, a certain manager (who, it has just occurred to me, I have never named – let’s just refer to him as Pointy Haired Boss , or PHB for convenience) has decided to go around the store removing price labels by stealth from shelf edges. He then proceeds to inform the manager of the given department that a price label is missing. The departmental manager then has to search the entire department, normally taking about half a day, to find the missing label.

This may seem to have a degree of sense behind it – after all, it means that the departmental manager must check all price labels. However, all sense is removed when you realise that:
a) We are chronically understaffed, and can’t afford to spend half a day looking for labels
b) He does this maybe three times a week per department – overkill?
c) He has now started removing labels immediately after they have been placed, so the departmental manager thinks “Hmm…I know there’s a price there because I’ve just put it there” and doesn’t check
d) He flatly denies doing it, even though he has been seen – he claims that the labels “fall off”. In which case it would take him about two minutes, literally, to print a new one off and replace it.

Also, I work on wallpaper. Of a nine hour day , I spent (I counted) thirty minutes in the wallpaper department last Saturday. Knowing full well that the previous week I had been told that sales were down year-on-year by almost 50% and I should be trying to sell more.

Anyway, PHB is rumoured to be leaving soon to become a store manager, instead of his currently position (just below store manager). This scares me a lot, because his replacement (let’s call him PHB2B ) actually has some intelligence and nouse, which should in all logic remove the possibility of him assuming a high managerial position anywhere…and yet it looks likely to happen.

A sensible manager…whatever next?

Originally posted on The LBSC

One: People who constantly say “D’ya know what I mean?” OK, it’s a handy phrase on occasion, but incessant repetition makes me want to kill.

Two: Management, of anything. I have yet to have a positive experience of it. Hospital management: Somebody totally unqualified medically speaking makes decisions on medical policies. Homebase management: Mystery shopped, scored 75%ish for employee presentation, and only 25%ish for Staff Availability. Solution – a sign is put up in the staff room: “Anybody who ‘forgets’ their name badge will be sent home without pay to get it”.

One: There used to be a weather presenter on News 24 who signed off with “That’s the weather…for now”. On his last broadcast before he left, he said “That’s the weather…FOREVER”, and ran off the screen with an evil laugh.

That’s all for now.

Originally posted on The LBSC