Life’s hard. Any BAFTA winning, ‘important’, home-grown talent parading, Shane Meadows, Grange Hill storyline affair will tell you that. But should it really be this hard? So much so that it’s verging on silliness. You start to wonder, if this is what it’s like for everyone, how does anyone ever get anything done?

Jobs that should just be ‘normal’ and ‘easy’ become the most difficult, frustrating, and annoying experiences you can imagine. Internet stops working? You pay your bills. You pay for a service. A service which offers you internet access. So when this agreement is broken, and your service ends for no apparent reason, wouldn’t you expect the company (whose unavailable service means they’re currently in breach of contract) to be all apologetic and ‘Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. We’ll be out right away to fix it Sir? When’s the best time for you Sir?’ Right? Wrong. If I was in breach of contract by not paying the bills I’d expect to have to grovel pretty hard just to convince them not to send round the heavies. If your boiler’s broken and your shower’s turned into a schizophrenic Dilophosaurus, trying to get it fixed is like trying to force an angry Dilophosaurus into a square hole.

Evidence that I live in a cartoon world: 1

My internet service goes down. Fair enough, these kinds of technologies aren’t perfect. Everything has problems… ‘S’pose I’ll have to call to get it fixed’ grumble grumble but y’know… not too much of a problem. It happens on a Thursday, so after it’s had a few days (90% of the time it tends to get over its little strop all by itself) I realise it needs to be fixed. Give the company a ring on Saturday. They can’t get anyone out today, it’s too late. I don’t see why as it’s a big company, they have people in the area already. But they offer Monday instead. Like 90(something)% of the population, I have a job. And therefore can’t be in Monday, or the rest of the week. They don’t do evenings, so have to book us in for the weekend. No wonder they don’t have anyone free on Saturdays, that’s when everyone has to book for. Why even bother employing people in the week?

9 days after the service went down, the internet man shows up to fix it. Only he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to get a ticket so doesn’t park nearby. I tell him to drive around the corner and park just across the road and I’ll wait for him. I’m waiting there for an hour and a half and he’s not answering his phone. Finally he rings me to say he couldn’t find anywhere to park and has gone home.

The next appointment is booked (after 2 complaints have been made. One about the man who wouldn’t park his van, and one about the first person taking the complaint), and then cancelled 1 hour before. Another complaint later, a third appointment is booked. After 16 barren, internet-less days, the problem is finally fixed, in the box feeding the street. Frankly that could have been done after one day. But… I have working internet. I can download the most obscene of images, I can share my stupid pointless views with strangers, and I can watch videos of cats peeking at me out of old plant pots to my heart’s content. I’m happy. One week later, it goes down again and the Groening-inspired circus begins again.

Evidence that I live in a cartoon world: 2

My boiler breaks. Nothing too serious, the shower just gets a bit lazy, thinking it only has to offer up hot water 50% of the time. I can just hop out of the way whilst it has a little nap right? But then it starts taking the piss… the naps get longer and longer and it’s only opening it’s eyes, recognising my presence, then falling back into a state of freezing bollock cold unconsciousness. This just isn’t on. So I call in Boilerman (through the lettings agency).

Day 1:

First Call. The manager is not available. He’ll call me back. He doesn’t.

Second Call. I’m put through to someone. Who hangs up as soon as I say ‘Hello’.

Third Call. They’ll call someone first thing tomorrow morning. (as they’ve taken so long just to let me speak to them it’s now the end of the day.

Day 2:

First Call. I remind them to call someone. They do and tell me he’ll come round tonight.

First appointment: Boilerman doesn’t show.

Day 3:

First Call. Ask why Boilerman didn’t show. They will look into it. No apology, don’t hear back.

Day 4:

First Call. Ask what’s going on. Told Boilerman did call but I wasn’t in. Not true. They will get him out again.

Day 5:

First Call. Boilerman wants to come in the day. But we have jobs so are forced to leave keys with a neighbour. Neighbour says keys were not picked up.

Day 7 (after weekend):

First Call: Boilerman did come but needs a part. Part due today.

Second Call. Where is Boilerman? Part arrives tomorrow. Appointment booked tomorrow.

Day 8:

Boilerman finally arrives, and fixes boiler.

Boilerman leaves.

Boiler breaks. Boiler now seems pissed off we think it needs any help to work, and is refusing to heat any water at all. No water for shower, no water for taps, no water for radiators.

Evidence that I live in a cartoon world: 3

TESCO 24hrs. Hardly any more needs to be said. If you’ve ever visited a 24hr supermarket at 4am you’ll know what I mean. Absolutely no one works on any checkout, meaning I have to use a self-service machine. Not too much of a problem, I’ll often opt for self-service anyhow, it avoids mindless small talk about the now incredibly embarrassing seeming products in my basket. It’s only at that point I usually realise the only thing I’ve bought is condoms, oil, whipped cream, Nutella, and packet of vest tops (tight ones)… and a loaf of Hovis like I’m trying to act all nonchalant.

With no checkouts open, there are 6 self-servicing machines to choose from. But due to the regularity of them fucking up, and the lack of any staff whatsoever in the store, only one is operational. Behind which there’s a queue as deep as the profit margin of an Organic Lettuce. When I do get to the machine, I realise a problem. The TESCO bags they’ve offered me seem very very small. I don’t usually recognise them as I’ll bring a ‘Bag for Life’ but today I’m on my way home from a night out (it’s 4am) and don’t have it with me. I chuck in the loaf, and there’s no room to get anything else in! I attempt to squeeze in a cucumber, but it’s no use. I’ve only bought 5 items, but end up carrying 6 bags!

Worse still, I’m almost done, just the Organic Lettuce to go, and she (the grumpy bitch who lives inside the machine) screams at me – the volume seems to be constantly turned up to ear bursting 11. Although there’s a button for volume control, it doesn’t work. It’s just there to taunt me. “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA!!!” She bellows with all the finesse of a character from Shameless. ‘Why?’ I think. Everything in the bagging area is either something I’ve scanned, or one of your Model Village bags! I try taking the bananas out, putting them back, shuffling the bags up, pressing the ‘I have my own bag’ button (which doesn’t do anything), nothing works. She’s still shouting at me, just louder and slower like she’s an Englishman ordering chips abroad.

I try picking one of the bags up… “ITEM REMOVED FROM BAGGING AREA!!!!” Ahh… she asked me to remove the item, now I (and even she’s admitted this) have removed the item. I’ve done exactly what she’s asked of me.. “REPLACE ITEM IN BAGGING AREA!!!” Now I know the score, I do as she says and place the bag as carefully as possible, back down. “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA!!!” What? NO! ‘How to you not expect the item? You just told me to put it there! Surely you must have expected something you told me to do?!’ I shout (quietly) at the screen.

I think maybe at that point I blacked out, and I woke up the next morning. I’m hoping it was all just a bad dream, but I have enjoyed an organic lettuce since. I’ve been too scared to open the bag drawer in case there’re 5 tiny, sinister look plastic bags looking back at me with narrow eyes, all stood around a map of the world.

Living in a Cartoon - Brought to you by James Wormald -