The How to Guide For the Socially Awkward Part 5

             We have all experienced conflict in our time, whether it be with your partner or with a dopey cleft on the phone that can only speak in an indecipherable dialect. Arguing is a sore part of life that always has cause and effect. Lets look at what really happens shall we.


               When it comes to a relationship, an argument is a totally different kettle of fish. Let us primarily establish a point. There is only one valid side to an argument and that held by a XX chromosome. No matter how right you may think you are men, we are not. It doesn't really stop there though. The process is as such. You put your point across, for instance.
"You slept with somebody, whilst drunk! How could you?"
the response chain follows a specific pattern.
"I know, but I was very drunk and not thinking. Can't we get past this?"
At this point the response would obviously be "No!"
but then comes the killer.
"Do you not realise? I did it because of you! You never do things for me and the first time I make a mistake, I have to deal with the same question over and over again! This is why I slept with him"
You all of a sudden start questioning your initial statement and your judgement and eventually come around to thinking Ah, Maybe it was me, then you make the statement, a statement that is universally known  as the dynamite response, You light the dynamite and say.
"I see what you mean. I understand" now you are only half way through your sentence and BOOM!!!
"You are only saying that because you know you've done something wrong and want to shut me up!"
before you realise it the dynamite has gone off in your hand and you now look! Gary Oldman in Hannibal.
When you look back at this situation you can really learn from it, well some of us can. I am generally an irritating person so most of the things I say make my girlfriend want to poison my food.

             A common cause for arguments in modern relationship is that rather taboo subject. No not backdoor romance. Sex. That's right I said it! how uncouth of me. Now a man when attracted to a woman will probably want to perform the art of love making on a regular basis, I think it's hard wired into our DNA. It's not the same for a woman, they would much rather watch call the midwife and believe me when a woman watches call the midwife, I personally guarantee there will be no libido after that, you have more chance of urinating in somebodies pocket and convincing them it's raining. So when a man tries three tactics to entice a woman, he just aggravates her. The three tactics are as follows.

1. Trying to casually touch a private area whilst spooning.
2. Establishing the more passionate (Is it naughty time) goodnight kiss.
3. Finally the winky stab, Basically you jab away and hope she notices. For the record, she has noticed but and if you continue to do this, you will get the penance stare.

Avoid all of the above and that is going to save about 2 hours of arguments per week. I think though although these are completely none essential arguments, there are times when an argument is called for. These times are during phone calls to the lonely planet that is call centers.

From the moment we pick up the phone it takes 30 second to go from calm to fury. Firstly you have to find the person you want to talk to by pressing numerous keys and what really sets off a Michael Douglas style break down is the 'Please say what you are calling about' I got this option once and a computerized voice states.

"Please say the reason you are calling us today"

to which my response was clear and concise "Customer Service" after 30 minutes of hearing robot moron telling asking me.

"So you want to pay your bill?" and me screaming at the phone I eventually reached customer service to find I was 48th in the cue. 

Being the man I am I would not hang up! I stayed on the line. I had even forgotten why the hell I called but now I was in vendetta mode! When it came to actually speaking to a person and I got the usual.

"Thank you for calling TalkTalk my name is Gareth how can I help?" now take into account there was no clarity in what he actually said. This man sounded like a deaf person with  a mouth full of peanut butter. My Response was filled with complete nonsense and utter anger. 

"Oh, so you want to help do you? Well you can start by getting me a supervisor!" I said with an angered intent. The response was the norm.

"Well sir, I am Gareth and I am the supervisor of this desk, so how can I assist you?"

This is about how I continued, I will be honest because I was angry basically none of this was why I was calling.

"Let me tell you something, God of the desk! I have been on the phone for 40 minutes and by the way you will be reimbursing me for this call." I was interrupted.

"Sir, you have called an 0800 number so this call is free."

I continued, "Don't interrupt me with your smart arse comments! the amount of time I have been on hold is besides the point! My phone keeps on cutting off and the signal is useless. You are the most disgusting company on the planet and as an ambassador for them, you should be disgusted." now I drop the British favourite.

"I, my friend, will be writing a very detailed letter the consumer rights. I will make sure I mention you by name and I will not miss out any detail. Also whilst I am here I would like to let you know that the phone you have provided me with is absolutely useless, yet again that's no surprise given the rest of the service I receive from you lot!"

Another interruption. "Sir, I can see that from your account you have a Samsung Galaxy, we are TalkTalk not samsung."

I was infuriated by his correctness. "Don't you come at me with your semantics and witty remarks, you imbecile. I want you to do something about this and I want it done now! I cannot believe a company as established as your selves would employ mentally insufficient morons, like you Gareth. Whilst I am at it. Tell me why I have been to unsucessfully make phone calls from this pile of crap phone to know avail?"

Gareth and his sarcastic response..."Sir I can see that you are on the phone now, to me"

I was not impressed.

"Yes, well, yes that's not my point is it, you are the operator. I know what you are  trying to do! You are trying to snake your way out of this phone call in anyway your badly rehearsed script allows. Well no more" By this point I had started to make grand statements that made me sound like a drunk, failed Shakespearean actor. I continued.

"No More! I tell you. This situation my friend is one of easy resolution and I want you to resolve it or forever may your children be cursed." At this point, Gather got a little fed up and hung up on me....Man was I fueled by this. Now I wont drag this out but after I had repeated the same conversation once more. This time with a man called Darwin (I am not kidding) and wasted almost 2 hours on the phone. I finally remember that I had needed to speak to technical support and not customer service but I really enjoyed turning 50 shades of purple.

The How to Guide For the Socially Awkward Part 4

           We all enjoy the exciting feeling that travelling brings right? Well some of us do, sometimes when you look back on your relaxing holiday you quietly reminisce about laying on a beach or that couple who were your holiday pals. If you really stop and think though. It wasn't all that relaxing was it.

            If you are lucky enough to have found a holiday that hasn't required the remortgage of your house and the sale of your least favourite child, you eventually find yourselves ready to take flight. Now initially you will have passport panic about 50 times on the way to the airport and you've had the taxi driver reassuring you that not all planes crash, you will eventually be checked in and awaiting take off. The flight can be a traumatic experience for some. for example, smokers and people who get hungry but have left their wallet in their case. You then become the most irritating other half on the planet. I myself have found that I have moaned for 4 hours on a flight that I am hungry, so much so the person in front gave me a sandwich to shut me up and for those adventurous flyers out there who think it's a good idea to join the mile high club! Why on earth would you do this? You are 'doing it" in one of the most confined used toilet cubicles on earth. I mean have you seen Slumdog Millionaire? Those toilets are more hygienic!  

         So you are lucky enough to have landed safely and providing you haven't flown with monarch, you probably have your luggage too. You are in new uncomfortably hot county where nobody understands a word you are saying. So you now adopt the local dialect, this being English but said.........very............very............slowly. My dad once asked me to order him a coffee when we were away in Rome. so I put on a really bad super Mario style Italian voice and asked.

"Heya, Escuse... you giva me da cafe eh?"

turns out the barista was fully fluent in English and just thought I was a head mental child. She even gave me free Biscotti. You also as an adult maybe faced with my problem. Now I absolutely do not have a body to be seen topless, yet my girlfriend is one of those head turners. So I just kind of sit around in a t-shirt and shorts afraid of the beachy judgement.

         Whilst in a new country every day poses new challenge, The food being one i mean go to Poland look at a menu and think I will try the local cuisine. Once I thought I was getting experimental and ordered 'Kurtka sera ziemniaków i fasoli' when a cheese and bean jacket potato arrived I was pretty disappointed to say the least. 

Then you are struck with the thought of maybe I should embrace a little of the local culture. This in many places is an amateur mistake!

Once I was in Morocco and went into a shop to buy a fez, Do not judge I was young! Also I have a good egg shaped head which suits the shape of a fez. My first mistake was trying it on. I was forced to buy this fez as apparently in some places in Morocco, If you try, you buy. If you don't by I hold you hostage until you do buy. I'll be honest, I brought it. This is all part of the holiday experience which in my view is the least relaxing thing to do. Just go to Devon! It's the riviera of England and everybody kind of understand what you are saying.

      

It's A Chefs Life

         Television has sugar coated and if not in some cases glorified what it means to be a chef. I was a chef for a very long time and I think for all of those budding chefs out there you should read before you consider a career that will drag you into the pits of despair.


         So you're a budding young chef are you? You have watched Masterchef and become inspired by the colours, panache and finesse that goes into every plate. Well I suggest you start recording every episode because you are going to need something to watch at 1am when you return home from work and all that is available on television is shopping channels, the third re-run of family guy and the news but with a little fellow in the corner who looks a bit like a pervert who is waving his hands way too much. I think the first fact you need to face is, You better like washing up and cutting up salad! You will be doing this for a very long time but this isn't the only trauma you have to face. You see in the catering world, there is no such thing as bullying. It's more priming you to become a vicious tongued, crazy person who cares not for the politically correct.


       You will on a daily basis be so exhausted your legs will start to make you believe they no longer like you. You will hold more scars than Charlie Bronson and get used to the phrase. "You look tired!" you will not only feel tired but you will also realise that your week is not coming to and end. You may have seen the angry shouting and ranting of the television chef from time to time. This is not usually the case. In fact you will usually only see this at 2 points.

Point One: You have cleaned down the entire kitchen and 2 minutes before you are about to leave for the comfort of your sofa and whisky bottle, some absolute moron will order a well done steak.

Point Two: If you have forgotten to do the food order for the busiest day of the week and the head chef finds out.

Apart from these two things it's pretty much anything goes. Now do you like Redbull? if not give it a week and a can of this silver coated battery acid will seem like Taylor Swift just Snapchatted a picture of her Garden of Eden. Like your food? Not any more you don't. You will eat sandwiches, crisps and sweets, This is now your diet! Ask yourself how do you react to practical jokes? I am not talking cling film on the toilet either. I am talking a whole team of people who dedicate their entire working life to not only find your inner most fears but exploit them at every turn. Don't like spiders? You will find them in your shoes, your car and you may even find yourself covered in them by some of the more dedicated and creative of chefs.


      Now you got into this for fancy and pretentious food right? WRONG you will cook what's on the menu, you will cook it fast, you will make sure it doesn't poison anybody and then you will throw a trees worth of parsley on it and call it garnish! Now the important part, the waitresses/waiters. Just do NOT even bother, you cannot have a relationship with these people. They are trained liars! They are actually paid and trained to be truly nice to everybody but as you know they are wonderful to the guests, the moment they step into that kitchen, it is like somebody urinated in their pockets and told them it's raining!

This is a true introduction into your first steps into catering. If a chef tells you he is happy, he is lying. The words term 'Happy Chef' is as oxymoronic as the term 'Honest Woman'

Ps You will bleed, A lot!

Why Orlando Bloom broke my Ankle!

Laying on the bed feeling a wave of fear overcome me, I look towards the nameless female who has made her way to a computer. The fear gradually turns to a curios confusion, as I ask myself ‘Where the hell am I? who the hell is that? and what in the name of Thor’s hammer have I done!.

"Good Morning Colin" The girl, (which is a term I use loosely at the moment due to voice that resembles Lou Ferigno with a throat infection) husks. Another wave of fear consumes me, which in retrospect should have been my first indication that something is wrong; this girl cannot even remember my name is Rob! I mean what a catch! After what could have been my best performance she thinks my name is Colin! Colin! I mean seriously who is called Colin?! Usually your dad’s best friend who you call uncle Colin who is far to fond of tickling you! Yeah, that's right. That's Colin.

"Morning...Um, oh Fu.... La, Em," look for clues, look for clues! You are in her room, she has photos everywhere, there must be a name! for the love of HA!

"Morning You...How are you feeling" I ask with an edge of cockiness as if to say “did I rock your world?” whilst thinking myself some sort of lothario.

“My name is Sammy!,” she glowers, “In case you needed a clue it’s written there in rainbow colours on the wall!"

HOW THE HELL DID I MISS THAT!!! it wasn't exactly subtle

"I'm googling you" she mutters

"what?"

"I am googling you!" she repeats.

Panic washes over me (what the hell did I do?).

I clamber out of the small, stale-sheeted single bed and make my way over to the computer and glance at the screen, on which the search bar simply reads;

‘COLIN BLOOM!’

Google displayed 15,000,000 results and pictures of a middle aged man that you absolutely would not let babysit your children. It all came rushing back to me. I knew what the hell I had done!

I was usually able to remain calm but this moment I was slightly panicked as I looked at the screen again I noticed a second and third tab open! Daily Mirror Submit your story tab three THE SUN TELL US YOUR TALE. I knew I had to make an escape and quick. My mind flashed over the entire night before

***

The pub, the music, mainly the alcohol and the question that Jonesy had asked me, "so, who to are you gonna be tonight?" in his low Newport accent.

You see we used to play this game, that almost never worked. You pretend to be related to somebody famous and then your friend attempts to befriend the DJ then he convinces the DJ to join in the game and announce the famous person’s relative is in the room.

The plan had come together perfectly that night. I was Colin Bloom, Orlando Bloom’s half brother (that he probably doesn't even have) and ten minutes after the announcement one person, one lonely rotund woman, with crossed eyes and a weird toe, approached me, kissed me and asked me to leave with her.

I spun fables that would make Aesop proud! how me and O (Of course being his brother I wouldn't call him Orlando) play badminton and how we were always being hounded by the press and how I had recently been photographed with a woman whose name I wouldn't mention, (mainly because I was too inebriated to think that quickly. She looked so impressed, I started to believe my own crap. It was all there like the night was flashing before my eyes. I will refrain from reminiscing the intimate details, mainly because, as far as my recollection goes, it was short and very scary, I remember hearing things that I haven’t heard since Linda Blair had a crucifix in hand.

***

I looked around, I had absolutely no idea where the hell I was. I knew I was in Bristol and in a room that had the aroma of feet and pizza and I needed to get out, ASAP.

This woman was aggressive looking and I’m sure I remember her telling me she recently won a darts trophy.

“Erm,” I'd forgotten to look at the wall again.

"Sammy!" she growled in a voice that was thickening to a point that was beginning to sound like the Kurgan from Highlander.

“Yes, I know," I said, (another lie) "Where's the bathroom?”

"Out of here second door to the left.”

Now was my chance, only one problem now remained, I am naked and I cannot locate my clothes. Problem.

"You wouldn't have happened to have seen my clothes this morning?" I asked.

“Oh yes, they're down the side of the bed, Don't worry though there’s nobody in so just walk around as you are, not planning on running off now are you Colin?"

I will be honest at this point I felt that the question she just asked was uttered in a tone that lead me to think she really meant "If you try and leave, I will find you, curse your offspring and bite off your winky in your sleep."

I have no problem admitting my fear, as I answered "No, Just need a tinkle" I mean who says tinkle apart from dad’s over-tickly friend! I was becoming a Colin! The moment I walked out of the feetapizzaria I found myself on a weird small corridor, naked and looking for a solution. I tried the first door to the left, It was open. Phew!

I walked in to a tidy room that smelt like vanilla (I always find the scent of vanilla distracting).

Focus I need clothes. On the end of the bed were some denim shorts and a t-shirt, I was desperate, cold and I needed clothes so I scooped them up, along with ankle socks from the base of the bed and headed to the bathroom.

Okay, Get it together Rob, let's be methodical! Get dressed.

So I squeezed into the denim shorts and T-shirt.

Upon realising the denim shorts are size 8 girls hot-pants, and I have on a big fat gypsy wedding belly top, I start to wonder if the day could get any worse. I snook out of the bathroom and made my way to the nearest exit. I try the door to my left. It's locked. I need a key! By this time I am almost giving up on atheism and ready to begin praying until I realise whilst looking out of the window on the kitchenette that I have found myself in, that I am not that high up.

I have a lightbulb moment; back to the room where I acquired the clothes. I quietly open the door and hmmm Vanilla! Stop it! I head for the window I open it as far as I can but it only opens about 16 inches. I take a deep breath step onto a rickety bed side cabinet and start to lower myself without thinking of the consequences.

About five minutes later I find myself regretting this decision. "It didn't look this high from the kitchen" I am hanging out of a first floor window fifteen feet above the ground wearing a belly top with All This and Blonde too written across the centre and a pair of hot-pants that are now revealing a testicle and what seems to be a crowd of students with Iphones tweeting and hashtagging my left nut! Surely this was it, my low point. As quick as that thought tiptoed across my mind "OI! What the Hell are you doing" It was the call of the Kurgan! I had no choice! I had to drop, I thought happy thoughts and prayed for some kind of help as I fell.

I landed and hit the ground. Not thinking about the pain, I started to do some kind of weird Quasimodo like run as my legs wouldn’t quite work properly. I just legged it and hoped for the best. I looked like the worlds worst drag queen as my panic started to subside and I was walking down what was now a quite busy Bristol high street that seemed completely focused on me. As I limped through the town I breathed with relief. I could see my hotel, the discount Travel Lodge. It looked so beautiful like a close-by, Lenny Henry endorsed nirvana. I felt a slight ease come over myself until I suddenly thought about one more thing. I had what was possibly a broken ankle, a bruise the size of a house-brick on my behind, I'd lost my clothes, my phone and my wallet all because of an elaborate lie. I had to stop.

I made a pact with myself, I will never lie to a woman again.