"Hello there, could I speak to my blog reader please?" "Yes, of course. My name's Nic Parkes and I'm calling from a Market Research Company on behalf of their bank. "
Yer, I'm doing that. I'm currently employed by a company who annoy people for the purposes of Market Research. Of course, as a business guru and such - I'm clear that what I'm doing has a very good purpose - but that doesn't stop many people from thinking that what you're doing is bad.
Last night, I spoke to someone who - for example - decided that I was a conman because I couldn't give him a number to call me back, and I was only able to give him a number for the project manager who he could contact during office hours. I've spoken to other people who think the call is a reason to be worried about everything they've ever done ever, and others who simply think you're phoning for a good bit of fun and that you don't actually need them to answer the questions.
Other people are, of course, absolutely lovely. But that's beside the point, because what I do seem to have mastered is sounding very interested while at all times sat looking bored out of my skull hitting a space bar and arrow keys. Such is life. At least talking solidly for hours makes me drink more water.
I am Nic Parkes, and this is my blog. Here, you'll find anything that interests me or gets on my nerves. From big yellow buses that run on chip fat, through little exercises into being clinically vague, to a degree in English Language & Media at Brighton Uni - the only thing you can count on is that there'll be an opinion somewhere along the way.
Annoying the UK
Anything Else | Wednesday, 18 August | Respond
I can't delete you
Family | Tuesday, 17 August | Respond
It's been two months, and I'm doing well - so I'm told.
It's difficult to know what "doing well" is, exactly; it seems to be something along the lines of forgetting about it when you need to, and not letting it bubble over when you don't need to forget - that's what I'm doing, anyway.
I've always been quite used to people leaving my 'sphere' as it were. I'm built, or - rather - I've built myself to not really rely on anyone for anything. It's always nice to have someone there to talk to, and it's always nice to be able to know that you can just go up to someone, ask, and get. And then to stand there, even if it's just for a few seconds, that there's someone there holding you up.
Some people struggle to take on this role, some people are amazing at it because they try to be - and others are rather good because they don't try one little bit. Those ones who don't try are often the best at it, and yet - alas - they don't even realise they're doing it. Then they leave.
20100817-4717666866_489106a68b_z.jpg
They don't realise what they've done - they don't realise that they've left you quite how they have. They don't realise the respect you have for them, and they don't realise how easy it is to love someone for doing what they've done for you. Then they leave. Bored with whatever it is they're bored with, or because they're being depended on just that little bit too much, or even worse - because they're scared.
Every other time this has happened - as serious or not - I've been fine with it. Because I always am. I'm always there, and always the same. Some kind of biological robot that sleeps at night, eats during the day - but feels nothing. Gets up, and gets on with it. Makes stuff happen.
This time it's different: I don't want to get up. I mean, not to say that I haven't - I'm not being silly. I've got up, and I've carried on. I've dealt with it, and I've carried on. That's what I do. I'm just not sure quite why, or how, I started - and now I've started, I've got to finish.
It's difficult to know what "doing well" is, exactly; it seems to be something along the lines of forgetting about it when you need to, and not letting it bubble over when you don't need to forget - that's what I'm doing, anyway.
I've always been quite used to people leaving my 'sphere' as it were. I'm built, or - rather - I've built myself to not really rely on anyone for anything. It's always nice to have someone there to talk to, and it's always nice to be able to know that you can just go up to someone, ask, and get. And then to stand there, even if it's just for a few seconds, that there's someone there holding you up.
Some people struggle to take on this role, some people are amazing at it because they try to be - and others are rather good because they don't try one little bit. Those ones who don't try are often the best at it, and yet - alas - they don't even realise they're doing it. Then they leave.
20100817-4717666866_489106a68b_z.jpg
They don't realise what they've done - they don't realise that they've left you quite how they have. They don't realise the respect you have for them, and they don't realise how easy it is to love someone for doing what they've done for you. Then they leave. Bored with whatever it is they're bored with, or because they're being depended on just that little bit too much, or even worse - because they're scared.
Every other time this has happened - as serious or not - I've been fine with it. Because I always am. I'm always there, and always the same. Some kind of biological robot that sleeps at night, eats during the day - but feels nothing. Gets up, and gets on with it. Makes stuff happen.
This time it's different: I don't want to get up. I mean, not to say that I haven't - I'm not being silly. I've got up, and I've carried on. I've dealt with it, and I've carried on. That's what I do. I'm just not sure quite why, or how, I started - and now I've started, I've got to finish.
Don't trust him... He's watching
In the news... | Monday, 16 August | Respond
We all know that if we’re out drinking, we really shouldn’t leave our drinks unattended. We know that we shouldn’t leave them unattended because they will be drugged, leading to us being drugged and having sex with someone who we wouldn’t have.
In fact, some of the people I know are so concerned about being drugged that they keep they drink wine without opening the bottle (you can’t trust anyone, nowadays) and consume only vaccum-packed food through a straw.
Not many people, though, ever worry about the risks involved in being drugged during the day. It is a very real risk which, every day, we risk; and I’m very worried.
I’m pretty certain that whenever you wash your car you take with you a drink. It might be coffee, it might be tea – I’m not sure. Either way, you’re – at some point – going to place it down in order to get the car soapy, or to make it less soapy, or to cover it in wax and then rub it all off again.
Once you’ve placed the drink down, in a public place, you’ll probably suddenly realise you’ve got a very full bladder. Or you’ll realise that – in fact – you forgot to get the wax from the kitchen. Any of these reasons will lead you inside.
“What’s wrong with me going inside?” you’re thinking, aren’t you? You’ve not left the keys in the car or anything so what can be the problem with going inside? It’s not going to do any harm.
That is until your nasty little next door neighbour throws some Rohipnol in your drink, waits for you to return and finish the coffee, watches you closely polish your car so that its blacks show up black and its silvers reflect the sky’s luscious blue.
Then he’ll watch you change your sidelight bulb, and then he’ll come over, you’ll say yes and before you know it you’ll be lay under a Morris Minor in his garage trying desperately to wash his sump plug just because it feels so dirty.
You hadn’t thought of that, had you? I bet you also hadn't realised how dirty your car was - or how cheap the car wash at the petrol station looks now!
In fact, some of the people I know are so concerned about being drugged that they keep they drink wine without opening the bottle (you can’t trust anyone, nowadays) and consume only vaccum-packed food through a straw.
Not many people, though, ever worry about the risks involved in being drugged during the day. It is a very real risk which, every day, we risk; and I’m very worried.
I’m pretty certain that whenever you wash your car you take with you a drink. It might be coffee, it might be tea – I’m not sure. Either way, you’re – at some point – going to place it down in order to get the car soapy, or to make it less soapy, or to cover it in wax and then rub it all off again.
Once you’ve placed the drink down, in a public place, you’ll probably suddenly realise you’ve got a very full bladder. Or you’ll realise that – in fact – you forgot to get the wax from the kitchen. Any of these reasons will lead you inside.
“What’s wrong with me going inside?” you’re thinking, aren’t you? You’ve not left the keys in the car or anything so what can be the problem with going inside? It’s not going to do any harm.
That is until your nasty little next door neighbour throws some Rohipnol in your drink, waits for you to return and finish the coffee, watches you closely polish your car so that its blacks show up black and its silvers reflect the sky’s luscious blue.
Then he’ll watch you change your sidelight bulb, and then he’ll come over, you’ll say yes and before you know it you’ll be lay under a Morris Minor in his garage trying desperately to wash his sump plug just because it feels so dirty.
You hadn’t thought of that, had you? I bet you also hadn't realised how dirty your car was - or how cheap the car wash at the petrol station looks now!
