Those BLOODY trains!!!!!!!

Hmmmmm …

No, that’s the wrong way to start this post, I think.

I’m thinking that the right word is …

Well …

Nothing else for it …

AAAAAAAARRGGHH!

Those BLOODY trains!

I ASK you!!

You may — or may not — remember that I said I had an interview, this morning?

In Chelmsford?

For a company called Appliance Warehouse?

I was heading off to it, this morning! On what was a wet, rainy, bloody miserable day, I’ve got to go to an interview. Still, it was one that I was fairly hopeful about, even though the company’s office was quite some distance from Chelmsford station.

And guess what happened … ?

The train — the 9•12am, that would’ve given me plenty of time to get there — got delayed.

DELAYED!

•••••

I …

WAS …

FUMING!

And, in the frantic ring-roundª to try and get a contact number for Appliance Warehouse — which was futile, as I couldn’t get one that was accessible from a mobile — I missed another train.

Now, as you can imagine, I was — and still am — MIGHTILY hacked off!

In part at myself.

After all, I could’ve salvaged the day, by making damn sure I had the contact number to let Appliance Warehouse know I’d be late, but was on my way.

Which was exactly what I’d done, a couple of weeks ago, when I’d had the interview at the Chelmsford Co-Op.

But I’m also annoyed that the train was delayed in the first place.

And also very much annoyed that — on getting back to Brentwood Station — I was point blank refused a refund.

What I’d been planning to do was get home — after getting a refund for the ticket — re-arrange the interview, go back to Brentwood Station and then repurchase a ticket for the relevant day.

Not the best compromise, I know, but at least it would’ve shown my prospective employer that I was capable of improvising around a set-back.

The refund was refused.

Or, at least, I was told to refer that complaint to National Express’ Customer Services department*.

Near enough identical, to my way of thinking.

I can’t help but think that going that route would lead to a bureaucratic run-around, that would’ve seen the passing of weeks, before I got any sort of cash back.

THAT’S the thing that’s really annoyed me: the £6•30 I spent on the ticket is a lot of money to someone on Jobseekers Allowance.

It’s meant that I’ve had to come home, and phone the chap who’s supposed to have been interviewing me, this morning, to let him know that there’d been problem’s with the trains, and that I’d not be able to make it into another interview until this coming Monday, at the earliest.

That’s when my next benefit check comes in.

I don’t think he was especially impressedº, going by the tone of his voice, but he did, at least, promise to try and phone me back with an alternative date.

Which he hasn’t done.

Can’t say I blame him.

After all, given the rates of unemployment in the UK, today, companies have their choice of prospective employees: ones that can actually make it to an interview stand a better chance of getting the job in question.

•••••

So, right now?

Right now, I am still angry about this morning’s events.

Like I said, earlier, in part at myself, for not thinking of a simple thing like taking a phone number along with me: which tells me that’s something I have to make sure of, in future.

But, BOY am I annoyed at National Express!

•••••

* By a chap who’s name badge identified him as ‘Nacer’ — or possibly ‘Naser’ — , if the quick glance I had of it was correct.

º I know — in his shoes — that I’d not be. To be frank, at the moment, I’m thinking I’ve blown my chances of either getting the job, OR another shot at an interview with the company. Especially as the interviewer hasn’t phoned me back.

ª Actually, I owe a BIG ‘Thank You’ to Sue, Ruth, Simon, Elizabeth, Maggi, Lorna, Anna and especially Gwen, Stef and Adrian, for trying to help out, finding the contact number.

Shopping …

You know, just occasionally, I’m like a lot of other people.

I go food shopping …

I like to eat, what can I tell you?

Well, apart from “I like food”, obviously …

Oh, and paying for stuff with money …

Well, no, I don’t like spending money, unless I absolutely have to, but who doesn’t?

At any rate, can I be honest, here, and confess that there’s been something bothering me for a while, now.

Somerfields.

Or rather, the Brentwood branch of Somerfields.

Now I’ve been a regular customer in the Brentwood branch of Somerfields for some time: since the late 1990s, to be honest.

And, while it’s small, it’s usually been good enough for my needs.

The problem — or part of it, to my way of thinking — is staffing.

Or rather Brentwood Somerfields lack of it.

Now, Brentwood had a branch of Sasinsbury’s open in town, a few years ago.

Or reopen, I should say. Sainsburys have had a presence in town for quite some time.

The opening I mentioned about was actually where Sainsburys had built a new store, with a lot floor space, closed their old branch — which is now the local branch of Superdrug — and moved into the new.

And — given that floor-space — it meant Sainsburys immediately started a very aggressive recruitment campaign. (They turned me down, I should add. Why, I don’t know.)

It had noticeable knock-on effects.

It seemed very apparent to me that — in the course of the next few months — Somerfields lost a lot of staff to Sainsburys.

At least, going by what I was told by some of the friendlier Somerfields staff.

With the result that Somerfields started going down hill …

Now, granted that — at about the same time — Somerfields, itself, was going through a heck of a crisis; one similar to the one that caused the collapse of First Quench Retail, the company who owned my former employers, Threshers.

But with one big difference.

Threshers collapsed.

Somerfields were bought out: by the Co-op.

But it’s only recently that a few — a very few — extra staff have been taken on. To little visible effect.

Very little, in fact.

Now I know, in these tough times, that hiring staff is tricky for some companies.

I also know that I — and a few of my friends — have — when Somerfields has been really busy — have put down full baskets.

And walked straight out of the shop.

But one thing I know I always aimed to try and do in my retail career, is this: make sure that I tried to serve customers as rapidly as decently possible.

I believe — and have seen for myself, from the other side of the till — that customers are less likely to walk out if they see that staff are visibly working and that that queues are visibly getting shorter: or moving, at least. Activing Throughput, if you want management speak.

Something that the local branch of Sainsburys seem to have realised.

And, to my way of thinking, Somerfields — the supermarket that’s nearest me, so tend to use more when the weathers like this — don’t seem to have that in mind.

•••••

One last thing to mention, here, is a little conversation I had with one of the friendlier supervisor’s at Somerfields, a few months ago.

According to her, their area manager had — several times — described the Brentwood branch of Somerfields as “… overstaffed.”

I don’t know who that area manager was.

But I’m tempted to use the phrase “Complete Bloody Idiot”, about now …

•••••

Oh, I’ve just had a quick natter with Tim, bless him, busily trying to install UNR on his Desktop — just to see what happens — who’s mentioned the Benfleet branch of the Co-op is just as bad …

•••••

Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d put in a couple of extra bits …

28 Weeks Later — A Reviews

30th September, 2019.

I can get a touch distracted.

Certainly by Pac the Man X and Patti Smith; I’ve got Horses playing in the background, just so you know and I’m wondering who the hell Johnny is or was.

The guy sounds rather … worrying…

I’m digressing, here.

You can possibly imagine the few things I’m going raise, though, can’t you?

My partner, Allison, is having a rough time with her bike insurance.

We’re neither of us on much money, to be frank with you, so the fact’s she’s had to send her last bit of cash to her insurance company, this morning, has hit her hard.

A couple of things haven’t helped.

I’d’ve been happy to at least go halvesies on the overdue payment; if it hadn’t been for having to replace the fridge-freezer!

After all, it’s what partners are for!

That’s a frustration I can do little about, right here and now, though; apart from kick myself about not being able help.

Telling you about it, may help.

Along side telling what we found out from the post office …

Because that’s one thing I was able to do for her, give the Post Office’s Customer Service line a call, and send them a mildly hacked off email.

For starters, it’ll take the Royal Mail — as distinct from the Post Office, they are, after all, two closely related, but separate, organisations — up to a month from the date of receiving the P58 we sent them, to find the missing postal order, and then decide what to do about it.

Which will hopefully include a refund; either way, a month is a long time to wait.

What makes it worse is the the relevant Royal Mail department will send a letter to Allison, to tell her what’s going on.

Just a letter.

In today’s world, sending an email, or giving her a polite and reassuring phone call to let her know what’s going on, obviously is out of the question.

Me?

I sent ’em a snotty email on her behalf …

Here’s, here’s what we sent …

“Hello.

I’m writing to ask about the P58 form I sent in last Monday; the 21st of September, this year.

I’ve been informed that this will take up to a month, and that I will be informed by letter.

While I understand that these things take time, I’ve also been informed that the relevant department cannot either send an email, or phone me, in addition to the standard letter.

I realise that this creates an additional burden, but — as this is fairly important — I’m both concerned, and worried.

And would appreciate knowing what’s happening as soon as possible.

For your information, the bar code on my copy of form P58 was 9826 9381 0000 0012 3458, concerning the postal order 1046524851.

Yours, ”

Which I think summed things up, rather nicely. But that’s how we both felt; seriously annoyed about the not knowing, as much as anything else … !

~≈√≈~

But, at any rate, I had the evening to myself, last night, and have to admit, I grabbed a movie from me back collection.

28 Weeks Later …

Hmmm …

Sequels …

Now, usually, I can take or leave sequels.

And I’m thinking that — whilst 28 Weeks Later is very well made, directed, acted — plot-wise … ?

Plot-wise, there’s not much happening.

It’s set 28 weeks after the original 28 Days Later; and initially introduces us to Don (Robert Carlyle) and Alice (Catherine McCormack), trapped in a rural cottage with four other people.

The film’s opening moments see the cottage attacked by some of the last remaining infected, Alice — seemingly — killed, and Don escaping …

It picks up some weeks later, when we see Don and Alice’s two children — Andy and Tammy, played by Mackintosh Muggleton and Imogen Poots — returning to London, and their father, after an American lead NATO force has reoccupied Britain, after the first wave of Infected have died off.

I’ll not give away too much, here — others have done that better than I — but it hinges around the fact that Andy and his mother are both carriers of the Rage virus … and seemingly immune to it …

The trouble is that 28 Weeks Later didn’t manage to hold my attention, last night.

That’s the crux of it.

Whilst it’s beautifully done — and the climactic scenes on London’s Underground are genuinely frightening — it didn’t hold my attention, because it doesn’t tell the complete story.

Somehow, finding out another sequel — tentatively entitled 28 Months Later — is in production isn’t surprising.

And somehow disappointing.

Because — given the gap between the first and second entries in the series, and the by now obvious fact that this is the second in a series of three — 28 Weeks Later doesn’t resolve the stories.

That’s not good.

Production companies should really plan these thing’s a bit better … !