I am so, so, so frikkin tired. Not from lack of sleep, but tired of life in general. It's nothing in particular that has made me want to curl up in a room away from everybody for 100 years, but rather an amalgamation of everything that has me feeling miserable and so exhausted I can barely make myself attend to the tasks I have to do. It's ironic really, because just a few days ago, I was saying how recently I felt like I'd broken through the suface of a lake and was gulping fresh air for the first time in a long time. Well, scratch that - I am gumpy, crotchety, fatigued, stressed and sick and tired of having to tough it out. Life should be about experiences and finding the good in things, not about toughing it out day by day just to get through it because.... well, I don't know why. Because the alternative is to be suicidal and end it all, and I'm hardly that damaged. Luckily.
Ok, so maybe there was a tiny trigger. But it's so random and insignificant, I'm ashamed to admit it. Don't ever say I don't know how to get your attention... ;-)
It was my phone. My new phone that was supposed to arrive on Tuesday this week: the pink Samsung U600, at an absolute steal, complete with free PSP (Shoes was happier that I was). We ordered it last week, and it was due to arrive two days ago. Only, it didn't. Last night, we tracked the order online and found it had been returned to sender. So we phoned Dial-A-Phone, and the following conversation ensued:
Shoes: Hi, I'm Shoes and I ordered this phone blah blah reference number blah blah and it supposed to be delivered blah blah but it says on your website it has been returned to sender.
ESP (Extremely Stupid Person): Oh yes sir, I see here that it has been returned to us.
Shoes: Erm, yes, that's what I just said. Can you tell me why?
ESP: Well, didn't you send it back?
Shoes: Uh, no, I want the phone. I ordered the phone. I paid £30 up front for the phone - why would I send it back?
ESP: I don't know sir.
Shoes: Yes, well, me neither. That is why I have called you. Why have YOU got MY phone?
ESP: Can't answer that sir. You will have to phone Royalmail.
Shoes: Ok fine, forget about why. Can you please send it back to me?
ESP: No sir.
Shoes: Why not?
ESP: Because sir. That's our policy.
Shoes: Your policy is to steal other people's phones?
ESP: No sir. Our policy is to cancel the phone contract if the phone is returned to us.
Shoes: But I didn't return it to you. It got returned by someone else, without my permission.
ESP: It doesn't matter who returned it, sir, the fact is it got reuturned.
Shoes: So you mean I can't get my phone back.
ESP: It's no longer your phone sir. It's our phone again now. If you want another phone, you will have to order another one.
Shoes: But, I've already ordered. You have all my details on file. Can't you just send that phone back to me?
ESP: No sir. You have to place a new order.
Shoes: But I don't understand. You have my details. Just send me another phone, and link the registration number with my details, which you already have.
ESP: Sorry sir, I can't do that. It's against policy. You have to order a new phone.
Shoes (straining to hear over my cries of "I'm going to fucking kill them" in the background): What about my £30? Will that carry over to my new order?
ESP: No sir. We will transfer the £30 back to you in 7 - 10 working days.
Shoes: Wait a second. If I order this phone today, you are going to charge me another £30. Then, in 7 days time, you are going to transfer £30 back to me. Have I got that right?
ESP: Yes sir, that is what we're going to do.
Shoes: Can you not see the higher intelligence of simply keeping the £30 I have paid you and sending me a new phone?
ESP: I'm afraid it's against policy sir.
Shoes (physically restraining me from ripping the phone to shreds with my bare hands): Can I just tell you something?
ESP: Yes sir, of course.
Shoes: Your policy stinks. In fact, your choice of delivery stinks too. Actually, everything about this whole mess stinks.
ESP: Thank you sir. Goodbye sir.
Shoes: *%£$!%*$^!
And so, we now have to wait and see if the £30 ever materialises before we risk ordering another phone from them. I did phone Royalmail as well, and they can't tell me either why the phone was returned to sender, but apparently that happens either at the request of the recipient (clearly not us as we never even saw the delivery guy), or if the recipient does not live at the address given. In any other case, including if the recipient is not available to sign for the package, it goes back to the depot and you are left a card explaining what has happened (we had no card). You then have three weeks in which to collect your package. They are investigating the issue after I threw a major wobbly on the phone today.
The point is, it's not the phone that matters. It's not even the Stupid People Situation. It's the fact that I can't even place an online order without everything coming to a grinding, metal-crunching halt. After the last 3 weeks, with the visa situation for Portugal and then the driver's license issue (which is sorted now, by the way), all I am asking for is just a bit of slack. Let me have an easy day. Let me just do something, and have it work right first time. Just once. Just to explain to you how chronic this is, I was supposed to be at an agency for an interview today at 1pm. As I was topping up my oyster card at the station, an alarm sounded and everyone had to evacuate. The result? I had to walk all the way to the next station to get the tube and was late for my interview. Just one thing.
It sounds funny, I know, and believe me, if I can see any good at all in anything, it's when I'm writing, because then I can add black humour to what in real life is making me cry, through complete lack of other options.
I'm just tired. I haven't had a holiday in 2 years, and I have never been this desperate to get away from my life and out of my own skin. I cannot stand to be me right now - I just want to be someone else, somewhere else, where my problems are non-existent. A place where there is no stress about a money situation that is worsening by the day; a place where finding a permanent job that I would just like, never mind the perfect job, is actually possible, rather than as likely as finding a needle in a haystack; a place where I can relax and not have to cope single-handedly with all the curveballs that life is throwing my way because somehow it all just seems to fall into my lap, and everyone else is content to leave it there. A place where I can just not be me. Just for a few days.
I realise that I'm just running on empty, and some time away from London and my life here will fill me up, and then I won't break down next time a stupid phone order goes wrong. Then I'll laugh at it, and find the funny in the frustration. It just seems like the person who used to laugh at things like that has been missing for a long time. I have drastically underestimated the need for relaxing holidays. But then again, I have never worked flat out for 2 years without one.
I know Portugal is close. But with all the drama surrounding this trip, it is testing every ounce of strength and faith that I possess, and I truly believe I have been tested enough this year. I'm on the edge of the precipice now; it's only going to take one or two more of these situations to push me over. I can't wish hard enough for the days to fly by so Portugal will arrive. G-Days is with us this weekend, so I think I'll wait for him to go back to Chippenham and then take a day off next week. It's not great, but at least I can be at home by myself, watching Grey's and not speaking to anyone, and hopefully gather just enough to see me through the next month.
Ok, so maybe there was a tiny trigger. But it's so random and insignificant, I'm ashamed to admit it. Don't ever say I don't know how to get your attention... ;-)
It was my phone. My new phone that was supposed to arrive on Tuesday this week: the pink Samsung U600, at an absolute steal, complete with free PSP (Shoes was happier that I was). We ordered it last week, and it was due to arrive two days ago. Only, it didn't. Last night, we tracked the order online and found it had been returned to sender. So we phoned Dial-A-Phone, and the following conversation ensued:
Shoes: Hi, I'm Shoes and I ordered this phone blah blah reference number blah blah and it supposed to be delivered blah blah but it says on your website it has been returned to sender.
ESP (Extremely Stupid Person): Oh yes sir, I see here that it has been returned to us.
Shoes: Erm, yes, that's what I just said. Can you tell me why?
ESP: Well, didn't you send it back?
Shoes: Uh, no, I want the phone. I ordered the phone. I paid £30 up front for the phone - why would I send it back?
ESP: I don't know sir.
Shoes: Yes, well, me neither. That is why I have called you. Why have YOU got MY phone?
ESP: Can't answer that sir. You will have to phone Royalmail.
Shoes: Ok fine, forget about why. Can you please send it back to me?
ESP: No sir.
Shoes: Why not?
ESP: Because sir. That's our policy.
Shoes: Your policy is to steal other people's phones?
ESP: No sir. Our policy is to cancel the phone contract if the phone is returned to us.
Shoes: But I didn't return it to you. It got returned by someone else, without my permission.
ESP: It doesn't matter who returned it, sir, the fact is it got reuturned.
Shoes: So you mean I can't get my phone back.
ESP: It's no longer your phone sir. It's our phone again now. If you want another phone, you will have to order another one.
Shoes: But, I've already ordered. You have all my details on file. Can't you just send that phone back to me?
ESP: No sir. You have to place a new order.
Shoes: But I don't understand. You have my details. Just send me another phone, and link the registration number with my details, which you already have.
ESP: Sorry sir, I can't do that. It's against policy. You have to order a new phone.
Shoes (straining to hear over my cries of "I'm going to fucking kill them" in the background): What about my £30? Will that carry over to my new order?
ESP: No sir. We will transfer the £30 back to you in 7 - 10 working days.
Shoes: Wait a second. If I order this phone today, you are going to charge me another £30. Then, in 7 days time, you are going to transfer £30 back to me. Have I got that right?
ESP: Yes sir, that is what we're going to do.
Shoes: Can you not see the higher intelligence of simply keeping the £30 I have paid you and sending me a new phone?
ESP: I'm afraid it's against policy sir.
Shoes (physically restraining me from ripping the phone to shreds with my bare hands): Can I just tell you something?
ESP: Yes sir, of course.
Shoes: Your policy stinks. In fact, your choice of delivery stinks too. Actually, everything about this whole mess stinks.
ESP: Thank you sir. Goodbye sir.
Shoes: *%£$!%*$^!
And so, we now have to wait and see if the £30 ever materialises before we risk ordering another phone from them. I did phone Royalmail as well, and they can't tell me either why the phone was returned to sender, but apparently that happens either at the request of the recipient (clearly not us as we never even saw the delivery guy), or if the recipient does not live at the address given. In any other case, including if the recipient is not available to sign for the package, it goes back to the depot and you are left a card explaining what has happened (we had no card). You then have three weeks in which to collect your package. They are investigating the issue after I threw a major wobbly on the phone today.
The point is, it's not the phone that matters. It's not even the Stupid People Situation. It's the fact that I can't even place an online order without everything coming to a grinding, metal-crunching halt. After the last 3 weeks, with the visa situation for Portugal and then the driver's license issue (which is sorted now, by the way), all I am asking for is just a bit of slack. Let me have an easy day. Let me just do something, and have it work right first time. Just once. Just to explain to you how chronic this is, I was supposed to be at an agency for an interview today at 1pm. As I was topping up my oyster card at the station, an alarm sounded and everyone had to evacuate. The result? I had to walk all the way to the next station to get the tube and was late for my interview. Just one thing.
It sounds funny, I know, and believe me, if I can see any good at all in anything, it's when I'm writing, because then I can add black humour to what in real life is making me cry, through complete lack of other options.
I'm just tired. I haven't had a holiday in 2 years, and I have never been this desperate to get away from my life and out of my own skin. I cannot stand to be me right now - I just want to be someone else, somewhere else, where my problems are non-existent. A place where there is no stress about a money situation that is worsening by the day; a place where finding a permanent job that I would just like, never mind the perfect job, is actually possible, rather than as likely as finding a needle in a haystack; a place where I can relax and not have to cope single-handedly with all the curveballs that life is throwing my way because somehow it all just seems to fall into my lap, and everyone else is content to leave it there. A place where I can just not be me. Just for a few days.
I realise that I'm just running on empty, and some time away from London and my life here will fill me up, and then I won't break down next time a stupid phone order goes wrong. Then I'll laugh at it, and find the funny in the frustration. It just seems like the person who used to laugh at things like that has been missing for a long time. I have drastically underestimated the need for relaxing holidays. But then again, I have never worked flat out for 2 years without one.
I know Portugal is close. But with all the drama surrounding this trip, it is testing every ounce of strength and faith that I possess, and I truly believe I have been tested enough this year. I'm on the edge of the precipice now; it's only going to take one or two more of these situations to push me over. I can't wish hard enough for the days to fly by so Portugal will arrive. G-Days is with us this weekend, so I think I'll wait for him to go back to Chippenham and then take a day off next week. It's not great, but at least I can be at home by myself, watching Grey's and not speaking to anyone, and hopefully gather just enough to see me through the next month.
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