How not to start a Tuesday. Beauty Care

I feel a little bit funny about publishing this post. Sure, I have no problem slagging off blonde girls who are rubbish with directions or dopey shop assistants, but to date I've never used my blog as an outlet to vent my annoyance at someone with whom I'm actually acquainted.

Well, that all changes today, baby! These changes are brought to you courtesy of a freakin' horrible phone call I had to endure this morning which has got me so freakin' mad that I am going to tell you [in strictest confidence, natürlich] The Story of This Morning's Horrible Phone Call and The Awful Embarressment It Left In It's Wake. Firstly, however, let's get one thing clear: I have been dealing with fairly rotten phone calls on and off now for about five years [it's in the small print of the job descriptions for "Personal Loans Administrator" and "Accounts Receivable Assistant"; apparently people don't like being asked to pay back money which they owe. Who'd have thunk it!] That is to say, I am well used to people being complete jerks on the phone and it doesn't normally get to me because it's usually not directed at me personally. The abuse is usually directed at The System or [my personal favourite] Them, the high-flying decision makers who are always, according to my callers, out to get one over on The Little Guy. So that's grand.

However, the nature of this morning's phone call was personal rather than business so there was no System and no Them that I could pretend were the intented recipients of any unpleasantness. There was just little ol' me.

I decided to make the phone call because Robbie William's tickets are going on sale this Friday, 09th December, and I need to get two. Not just any mucky old tickets, though: the gig's in Croker and I don't want to end up stuck behind a pillar or something, and they are intended for a present and so I want to get the best ones I can. So I decided to put in a call to an acquaintance of mine who is In The Industry. This is a bloke who has said to me [three times], to my sister [twice] and to my Dad [every time he is talking to him], "If you're ever looking for tickets to any gigs that my crowd are organising, just give me a call, don't bother hunting them down in the shops. If they're sold out or whatever - no worries, I'll look after you." That's practically verbatim, and we've never taken him up on it, I mean not even to ask if he's heard when such-and-such a band might be coming to Ireland again. I didn't even ask him for tickets to the last round of U2 gigs because I didn't want to be scrounging, and the next time I was talking to him he was all "Ah why didn't you give me a ring, I'd have sorted you out with VIP tickets!" So I reckoned I'd see if he could hook me up with some good tickets for Robbie - I obviously wouldn't say no to freebies, but even if he could just sort of hold a pair of decent seats for me and then I'd pay him for them, I'd be over the moon. As he'd said so often himself, it was no problem.

LE PHONE CALL
I ring the main office number, I get put through to his phone, he answers...

MOI: Hi, it's Lyndar here; I believe congratulations are in order! [His wife had a baby about a week ago.]

HIM: Yeah? [Just "Yeah" with a "what the hell do you want?" inflection. Not "Yeah thanks" or "Yeah how are you" or "Yeah anything".]

MOI: So, how's everyone doing?

HIM: Fine. [Sounding as piste off as a body can be.]

MOI: Have I caught you at a bad time there..? I know you're a busy man! [Because I'm thinking Jesus what is this guy's problem?!]

HIM: Well, yeah, I'm actually with someone at the moment?

MOI: Oh sorry, your front desk just put me through! Should I call you back or can I send you over an e-mail?

HIM: No. [Not "No, go ahead" or "No, you're grand". Are we seeing a pattern emerging here?]

MOI: Well, I won't keep you long; I'm trying to organise two tickets to Robbie Williams as a Christmas present for someone and I was hoping you might be able to help me with that!

HIM: Eh, those tickets haven't even gone on sale yet?

MOI: Right, but-

HIM: [cutting across me!] And I won't be able to get tickets for you anyway. We can't hold any of them back because it's going to sell out in about ten minutes and all the tickets have to go to the fans. So I suggest you go to your nearest ticket outlet early on Friday.

MOI: Riiiiiiiight. Well, thanks for that; say hello to herself and the baby for me...

And he kind of grunts and hangs up the phone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LE AFTERMATH
So I am left feeling like an absolute scrounger [doubly insulted by the insinuation that I'm not even a real Robbie fan] and am so mortified, I find myself cringing uncontrollably for the next couple of minutes. That is, until I realised that I hadn't done anything out of order and he was being a complete jerk! I mean, it's not like I'm someone who's never met him and was cold-calling himout of the blue. No, I am someone he has flamin' well told to call him three times previously for all my ticketing needs and the one time I do he has the bloody cheek to act like I'm something he trod in??!

Aaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Rude obnoxious people who make you feel like an idiot until you finally realise it is they who are the idiots!!!!!!!!!!