Leaving work, and telephone trouble

Only a few days left to work now, and the nerves are starting to show. Some people still think I need my head examining. Giving up a well paid job to jump into the unknown probably doesn’t seem like the brightest thing to do. I just think that I would always regret not having tried it, the if only I had done that, which would niggle away at me for all time, and you never get any younger. My circle of friends is quite small, but I will miss them all. Keeping in touch will have to be high on my ‘to do’ list, I lost contact with a very good friend before, he emigrated to ‘Oz’, and I now don’t even have a current e-mail address. I nearly had quite an emotional moment at work the other day, but being a bloke, not the done thing. Some people on one of the shifts I manage had got me a card and a present. I’m glad I didn’t have to make a speech. The card was very nice, although not a total surprise, as Patrycja was not very subtle going round with it. With it came a book, a lot of thought went into the choice, a Spanish author, but thankfully translated into English.

Moving on, an update on Virgin Media. I can honestly say I have never struggled so much to contain myself. Linda rang up, and put it on speaker. The nice call centre person was very helpful, although the accent was a little hard to place. She was very sorry to lose such loyal customers, were we sure we wanted to terminate the service, yes, was the reply. Okay, the 21^st of next month would be great, the 21^st of January then, no, February please. By this time, I’m getting close to tears. FEB-RU-AR-RY. My wife’s’ frustration is becoming evident, ‘where is this call centre?’, ‘Manila, the Philippines Madam’. That explained the communication problem. Apparently, it takes a couple weeks after termination of service, to get a final bill, so they needed a forwarding address. ‘Would we like to use their services at our new address?’, ‘no thanks, we’re moving to Spain’. ‘If you give me your new address, I’ll just check, we may serve that area’, ‘Alicante, S-P-A-I-N!’. I am now in pain, trying to stop myself from having an ‘accident’. ‘It’s another country, we’re moving abroad!’ My face is contorting into something that would win a gurning competition, just to hold the laughter in, let alone not wetting myself. The pain is starting to subside, the nice woman on the other end of the phone, is now lacking in entertainment value, the light has come on, something has clicked, we will not be living in the UK.  I have paid good money for entertainment in the past, concert tickets, comedy clubs etc, but this came a good second, and it was free! Sorry, naturalised Yorkshire man, see all, do all, supp all, pay nowt. By the way, if anyone happens to see a bunch of lads with a white van, and hi-viz vests on, with NTL or Virgin Media plastered on them, digging cable trenches round Alicante, I am happy for them to contact me, and I will formally apologise, of course. No doubt the person ringing me, probably to inform me of impending legal action, will speak English, not learnt from watching ‘corrie’ or ‘eastenders’ for a few hours, but from spending a few years within a radius of less than a thousand miles of where their customers live!