London Calling Part Two.....

My first non jet lagged night I decided to take the train to the bustling metropolis known as Reading. Everyone in the office told me that Reading had shops opened later and better restaurants.

This worked for me because I wanted to get a toy double decker bus for my sons and my dad had asked me for a Manchester United hat. My colleague Steve had told me about this great italian restaurant called Caliccios that I would really like.

Once I get off the train I realize that I've made a huge mistake. I have no idea where to go. It starts pouring rain as soon as I step outside and I have stupidly forgotten my hat in my nice warm hotel room.

I figure "Fuck it, I'm here anyway." I head to main area and see a bunch of shops. My goal is to get the hat for my dad and the toy for my boys.

It is about 6:30 PM and all of the shops are starting to close.

So while the shops in Reading are opened longer than the ones in Bracknell, they are only open for one hour longer and my train ride was about 50 minutes.

So the shopping is nixed, but dinner can be salvaged. Unfortunately I'm lost in a foreign city at night and its raining out. This is not really conducive for asking for directions since most people are rushing home.

I do find a couple and ask if they know where Caliccios is. They tell me I need to take a right at the Oracle and then go over a bridge and then take a few more turns and I should see it.

They then disappear into the english night.

Now I am thankful for the directions, but at the same time:

What the fuck is the Oracle?

Some wandering on my part and I figure it out. It is the mall in Reading. I head in because I have to use the rest room and I hope to find something decidedly english for the boys. I mean they must sell a double decker bus here right?

Let me let all of my dear readers in on a little secret. There is nothing in England that you can't get in America. There are no little English shops. There are no "Wee Britain" stores where an old codger sips tea and Yells out "Oi arsehole! Wot ar' yeh doin'?"

This mall was the same as any mall in America. I was somewhat let down. I left it and tried to find my way to the italian restaurant. At this point I had to achieve at least one of my goals.

So as I was walking I came upon a sushi restaurant. There was an older lady walking by and I asked her if she knew where the italian restaurant Caliccios was.

First of all she grabbed her purse and stepped back like I was the second coming of Jack the Ripper (this will become a trend) and pointed to the sushi restaurant behind me and said:

"There's a restaurant right there."

Thanks Mary Poppins but this is a fucking sushi restaurant.

So I walk around the outside of the Oracle and can see a river that has restaurants all around it. One is an italian restaurant called Bella Italia.

I accept this as a compromise and head in and have a fine meal with some great italian beer.

Sated and somewhat happy that I did at least have an italian meal I head back to the train station.

Of course there is the little issue of me trying to find my way back to the train station. I wandered around Reading for about an hour trying to find a place to eat and have no idea where I am.

I cut through the mall and see two ladies walking in the archway leading out. I ask them for directions and they jump away from me like I have a rag of ether in my hands and date rape on my mind.

They laugh it off and tell me how to get back. I rush to the train station and do a cursory check to see if I have blood on me or something else that seems to make people nervous around me. Maybe it's the funny accent I have.

I never did find out though.

I get home around 10 or so. I am full but soaked to the bone and go to sleep.

It was a fun night but I should have written directions down and taken an umbrella.

Coming up:

Part three. Pub hopping.

London Calling.....

I spent last week in England for work. A small village called Bracknell. England is a cool place, but there were some noticeable differences. For example I would leave the office around 5:30 and all the shops were closed. The only place open was the local pub, The Manor.

The Manor is great. It's like the Winchester in Shaun of the Dead. There were four older men at the bar. This was obviously "their pub". They had been coming here for years and were friends for even longer.

One of them had to leave. As he was saying his goodbyes one of his friends grabs his own crotch and says "Give my love to the wife for me wouldja?".

This was my kind of place. It was the british version of my all time favorite bar from college, Julios.
It was a fucking dive and it made me feel at home when I was so very far from it.
The odd thing about the pub was there was no concept of a tab. I wanted dinner and drinks. I had to pay up front. Now if I wanted more to drink I would have to pay again.
I had no cash on me and only my corporate card. So after dinner I order another pint and hand out my credit card.

The pint is about two pounds. I offer up my card and they tell me it is a five pound minimum. My meal came with a free drink and I had already had a pint to go with that as well.
Instead of not getting the pint I said "Oh ok five pound minimum? I'll take three pints then."

Ahh American excess.
After my 5 drinks I made my way to the hotel. My hotel was in this plaza and the only way (or so I thought) in was to take an escalator from the plaza to the hotel.
It was about 8pm. The doors to the escalator were locked and I was somewhat drunk and having to piss.

An emergency if there ever was one. The lights are out. The town is deserted and I have no idea where to go to make it to my hotel. I wander around and find a Royal British club and ask the kind ladies if they can tell me how to get back to my hotel.

They group up like I am about to mug them (this becomes a trend throughout my trip) and provide directions. I thank them and make off like the wind. I have to go through a car park and up a few flights of stairs before I make it to the hotel, but make it I do.

I tell the concierge that he really screwed me over with the whole locking up of the escalators and he should get on that. He nods and I go to my room for a piss and sleep.

Part two soon.

I can't....I have a headache

It's been a busy few weeks. I am starting to catch up on school work, but am still a bit behind. A big part of that is work. This guy I work with is based in England.

I work with european customers and this guy was hired to help out.

He sucks so bad.

He is a horrible worker.

He tries to be nice and tell jokes to get you on his good side to make up for his complete lack of knowledge and work ethic.

When you first start here you get a bit of a pass because the technology is new and our products are not the easiest to use. Eventually more responsibility is sent your way until you are able to do your job by yourself. I was supposed to be his point of escalation in case he hit a roadblock.

I was not being utilized that way.

He was always asking for help. That in and of itself is fine, but he would have me do all of the work and not take notes when I did it. What was happening was the same problems were appearing but he wasn't learning from it.

I started getting frustrated. I started giving him a checklist of things I wanted done before I would even look at the issue. He did not like that at all.

He would tell me he was nervous about helping out customers when he didn't know what he was doing.

I told him I never knew what I was doing, but the beauty is that neither does the customer.

That didn't work for him.

He went to my boss and told him that when I helped him with his problems I moved too fast and he didn't know what I was doing. He did this in spite of me asking him each step of the way if he understood what was going on. His reply was always yes. He said he was taking notes the whole time too.

So my boss tells me from now on I am to instruct him and monitor him when he has an issue.

I say fine.

Then he calls in for two weeks with a headache.

He calls in saying he has a stress headache and his doctor said he will be unable to work for two weeks.

Can you believe that shit? That is balls. If I wasn't so pissed at what a pussy move that was I'd almost be impressed.

So while he is gone I am working all of his issues and mine.

I have the boys during the week and homework is piling on.

In short this happened at the worst possible time.

He comes back last Friday. I am working an issue and tell him to work a different one.

He logs on and calls me saying he is in the customer system but has no idea what to do and can I help him.

Unfuckingreal.

God damn lazy asshole.

So I log in and tell him that I will tell him what to do so he can learn.

He says no. He says that if he works the issue he will get another stress headache. He wants me to do it and he will take notes.
Now this prick told my boss that when we did just that, I was moving too fast for him. He said that he couldn't pick up what I was doing.

I fucking hate people. I call my boss and am like "Listen this dude you hired has sand in his vagina and needs to get some balls ASAP because he is killing me."

Although when he heard me it sounded more like "This guy says he's going to get a headache if he works and wants me to do it for him. What the fuck is wrong with this guy and can you see that this is unacceptable?"

My boss did understand my plight but wanted the customer taken care of. He talked to my co-worker yesterday. The dude actually resigned and my boss just cut him loose instead of having him work his final two weeks.

I'm actually surprised he quit. I figured he was looking for another job when he had headaches, but I wasn't sure. Guys like that tend to milk jobs all the time.

Thank christ he is gone but my job just got a lot harder.

Swing batta batta...

Had one full week at work. Its like nothing changed. My foot feels awesome. I'm seeing the doctor today to see if I can start jogging again.

Now regarding work. I get here and my co-worker is telling me a story Kat told him. Apparently the older lady I work with, not Kat, an older woman with two teenage sons likes to swing.

This blows my mind. First of all here are the details. She and her boyfriend have other couples come over and they play a game. The game is that all of the guys put on blind folds and all of the women give the men blow jobs.

Now the men who are blindfolded need to guess who is giving them head. Regarding this I really don't care. What you do behind closed doors is really your own business. Now looking at this woman I'm not sure I would want to play that game with her, but what I really want to know is how do you get to the point with your mate where you can say:

"Hey lets have the Smiths over and John and I get blindfolded while you and his wife go down on us and we pick who is doing it!"

Personally I would not be able to share my wife. I don't know how a husband or boyfriend could let that happen. So that's my roadblock. Second you have to convince your wife to do this. I have no idea how you even HAVE that conversation.

Lets say you are get past those issues. I am 31 years old and now have friends in my life that I have known for about 16 years now. These are close friends. Friends that I consider to be brothers.

My kids call them uncle and aunt. I mean They are like family. That said, I can't even imagine how I would even ask if they swing.

I guess a lot of booze is involved. Again I'm not judging this at all. I'm really curious how you even get another couple to do this. I mean I just don't think that even if I wanted to swing, (which I don't) how you would even go about getting another couple involved.

The real thing is that for the past month I have been unable to drive because of my foot so I have been working from home.

My first day back I hear about this 42 year old woman who goes down on her and her boyfriends friends while they are blindfolded.

Why am I not more shocked by this?