An extra-rare treat for you all now: a work-related rant! Part of my job involves calling prisons to arrange for solicitors from the firm I work for to go and visit — yes that’s the type of work I’m in: lovely, isn’t it?
Anyway, I had cause to phone two separate prisons today. The switchboard operator at the first managed to keep me on hold for an inordinate length of time before cutting me off. This happened not once, not twice, but thrice! The second prison informed me that they had no visiting slots for next week, but were not yet taking bookings for the week after, so if I wanted to arrange a visit — tough.
Suffice to say, by the time I finished dealing with them I felt like killing someone. I resisted the urge, however — mainly because I’d end up in prison and, judging from my experience today, I’d never get any visitors.
I hate my job. On the plus side, on Monday we have an off-site meeting which will be a complete waste of time and provide ample opportunities for me to practise my “I’m paying attention to what you’re saying and not daydreaming of adventures in far-off lands, honest” face.
The title of this post could do with a bit of extra punctuation for clarity. Oh well.