Archive for the internet shopping Category

Air Traffic Slots (Journalists Guide to Aviation Part 1)

Posted in 911, air traffic control, air traffic slot, atc, aviation, ba038, baa, bbc, computer, disruption, Humour, internet shopping, journalist, life, media, September 11, simon calder, travel, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 22, 2012 by norvenmunky

A journalist collects and distributes news and other information

Unfortunately in NM’s experience far too many of them fall into the following genre

writing that reflects superficial thought and research, a popular slant, and hurried composition, conceived of as exemplifying topical newspaper or popular magazine writing

So not so long ago a piece appeared in a local rag bemoaning the fact that a reader posted a message on a local airport story, saying an airline could not get the ATC slots for summer flights because it does not have enough staff available to man the planes having made lots of cuts over the winter.

An ATC slot is produced via the CFMU, (thats a big building in Belgium, but thats not important at the moment,) as a function of airspace capacity. Naff all to do with airline staffing. So heres how it works …

Idiots guide to ATC slots.
Its very simple, if you have a room that holds ten idiots, you can’t put eleven idiots in the room. (much as you might like to)
Idiot number eleven has to wait until one or more idiots come out, or the room is made bigger, so the idiot (No11), gets a slot time. This is the time the idiot has to present itself to commence their journey to the room. If there’s only seven idiots in the room, then you can get three further idiots in there without restricting their progress at all, but the fourth idiot and any subsequent idiots will have to wait their turn. If that room is in fact a corridor joining two rooms, then you can only get so many idiots down that corridor at any one time, even if the room at either end has a limitless supply of idiot capacity. Therefore any idiot wishing to pass through the corridor may get a slot time for the corridor, depending on how many idiots wish to use the corridor at any given time. If there is another different corridor, joining the rooms you can send the idiots down those corridors, which may mean that the idiots will not be restricted at all.

So you can see using the above idiots guide, you should be able to see that ATC SLOTS, do not get secured by an airlines schedule, or their staffing levels, they are a tactical daily/hourly response to airspace capacity. But please don’t let inconvenient substance like facts get in the way

Technical Support – Is your PC running slowly?

Posted in computer, Darwin Awards, entertainment, Humour, internet, internet shopping, life, media, microsoft, shark feeding, tech support, technical support, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on February 10, 2012 by norvenmunky

I often get these calls and have used a good few versions of annoying them back, seems a fair exchange to me. Mrs NM says ‘Why do you bother? just hang up’. I say well whilst they are trying to rob me, they’re not actually suceeding in robbing anyone else. I often wondered how they knew I was using the ‘puter’ at the time. Well the other day one rang when I wasn’t on the pc, so I kept them talking being ‘thick’ whilst the operator, (usual sub continent audio soundtrack), babbled away in the background. So having checked the PC was turned off and removing the t’interweb cable, I began to play along.

Brrringgg
Hello, Is that Mr N. Munkey?
NM: Whose calling?
It’s Microsoft support, we are ringing to offer help is your computer running slow?
‘Yes’, I confirmed my PC was indeed running slow. A slow running PC helps you rather than them. A slow running PC means it takes longer for you to give them a reply, and hence gives you additional thinking time. So what you can do is make tappity tap tap sounds on the keyboard as they give you instructions. When they ask what its showing just say a blank/blue screen or yes the menu is showing, you’ve clicked on it, and you’ve got the cursor hourglass icon just showing spinning revolving etc. Don’t forget to just turn off your computer at the wall, tell them you’ve done it of course, this means any commands they’ve given you are void and they have to start again. Tell them sorry you were only trying to help, thats what you normally do when it runs slow and doesn’t respond. You’ll pick up that they are a bit annoyed now, its the ‘no, no, no,’ when you tell them you’re turning it off thats the give away, but seeing as you are obviously so ‘thick’ they stick with it, you will after all, at the end, be an easy victim.

I managed to keep this going for a good forty five minutes or so the other day, whilst idly flicking through a book doing picture research. The best bit was getting them to call back, the computer running so slowly that they got fed up waiting and said they’d ring back in ten minutes. Give them the added bonus of telling them its running XP, they start salivating like pavlovs dogs at the thought of such an easy crack. Guess what? they do actually call you back. I even managed to get a call to a mate in between, and they called during that conversation, ‘Oh shit I said my daughters just been sick!, call me back in ten I’ve got to see she’s ok’. That worked too. Eventually they gave up up when I said the screen was black and now not responding to anything, even re-starting it on their instruction and hitting F8 as many times as possible, (NB do not touch or follow any commands they give you), and the pc was ‘just making a humming noise with the green light flashing’ at me.

Tell them its the green one, most PC’s have a light somewhere, so it may as well be green and flashing. Oh, its stopped flashing. Having now been escalated to someone who could speak english quite well, (the sharks sensing the blood in the water), ‘Oh, green lights started flashing again’ etc etc, you get the picture, they don’t they’re target fixated now on you. Remember, you’re portraying the ‘Hobosexual’ (Mmmm that musty smell just does it for me …), type of customer who shouldn’t be allowed on the t’interweb without a responsible adult, and clicks on every Jenifer Aniston video link out there, so keep being ‘thick’. He eventually suggested that the PC needed to be taken to a PC shop to be repaired as it was really very, very broken and badly damaged, again emphasising that it was damaged and maybe had a virus in it. ‘Oh, I thought that’s what you were going to do to it’ I said.

Do you know what, that manager who told me he was from Microsoft then told me to ‘###k off’, well I ask you what sort of customer support is that?

BT

Posted in BT, Darwin Awards, disruption, entertainment, environment, Humour, internet shopping, life, media, shark feeding, Uncategorized on August 31, 2011 by norvenmunky

BT's 'Talk to the Hand' Customer Service Center

This week I have mainly had the pleasure of being subjected to BT’s customer ‘service’. The only thing remotely close to service that springs to mind is one of those days when you’re standing outside a garage and some halitosis ridden wizzened old codger sucks air through his teeth and says ‘It’s going to cost yer’.

As one of BT’s valued customers we had the pleasure of being cut off from their ‘service’, for not paying the bill. Unfortunately for BT, our bank records, and after subsequent detailed investigations on their part (i.e. them actually fecking looking), proved that we had in fact, using a well know phrase or saying, ‘paid in full’. Getting to this stage however took a good few wasted hours. Firstly one had to deal with their ‘offshore’ service center, not for the first time either. BT happens to not recognise my card. This is unusual. My bank recognises it, the local Co-Op recognises it, it seems vaguely familiar to myself, it being the primary means of commercial transactions that I use, and BT are able to recognise it having taken a payment from it. Yes thats right, the one they hadn’t received but acknowledged they had received. The payment had been taken by their obsequious ‘submissive or fawning in attitude or behavior’ offshore department whom assured me with a guarantee that this problem would not re-occurr. I mentioned at the time that I was on the phone because it had already re-occurred after a previous event, so the promise was somewhat hollow. Well having held on today for 14 minutes before they managed to cut me off whilst ‘transferring’ me, (Note to self: When someone says ‘I’ll just put you on hold to transfer you’, it’s corporate speak for, ‘stick it up yer @rse, your questions are too difficult’)

Well imagine my surprise to call again and then speak to a person in England! This time there were no ‘system problems’ or ‘all our computers are down’, the lady could actually speak to me about my account. Odd though that they wanted to charge a re-connection fee and a late payment fee for a bill that was paid in full. I mentioned in passing I felt that was unsporting of them and mentioned that if they had actually taken the full amount as instructed, both BT and its customer, (me) would get on a little better. I was then told it was my fault BT hadn’t taken the correct amount, and I queried why there was any logic to me not paying the full amount, using the age old ‘keeping a shark in the toilet’ comparison arguement. In fairness the manager now admitted that it was unlikely that having paid in full, and it being confirmed on my bank statement that I would think there was an outstanding balance. Rather like keeping a shark in the toilet, I may well keep a shark in the crapper, but on the basis he’s likley to get a bit fed up being dumped on (literally, see, another BT customer), and me ‘chumming’ the bog every other week would take some explaining to the wife, it’s pretty unlikely I’d consider the possibility.

An annoyed shark, yesterday

But we’ve written you letters and tried calling you she oppined, yes, maybe, but one was on holiday, so responding to a problem caused by your company that I was unaware of, and thought had been resolved, (that pesky bank statement ‘proof’ thing thing again), wouldn’t be a high priority.

Do you mind if I listen to our recording of the original conversation? (for training purposes) she asked. Of course not said I, I’ll hold on. Well out of the 90% of calls that BT tell me they do record, (for training purposes), what do you think the odds were that my call had not been recorded? Call me ever so slightly cynical but me standing in front of the bog and ‘chumming’ just seems more likely by the moment …

Patience

Posted in canon, canon g10, Canon G12, Darwin Awards, disruption, entertainment, Humour, internet shopping, life, media, photography, travel, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on February 28, 2011 by norvenmunky

Well every now and then we all have to say ‘stop the world I want to get off’. Well the ‘Berg’ has decided to do just that. He’s taken a leaf from the book of life and headed out on his ‘road trip’. Nowadays its fashionable for yoof to have a ‘Gap’ year after leaving skool, when they run around in grey clothing to the sounds of popular beat combo’s. Berg being an experienced member of the school of life has departed these shores and like NM a good few years before, slung the backpack on, (a double berger then) to circumnavigate the world. Whether he takes the full NM life experience trip and returns with tales of derring do, being woken by cops with guns, smiling sweetly to avoid subsequent arrest, tearing up parking lots in Z28’s, winding up border guards, getting on local radio stations for having a ‘cute accent’, and laying out in the fields drinking beer and shouting ‘shooting star’ remains to be seen, but I hope he does, he deserves it. The good stuff that is, not the cops, guns, arrest, thing, though to be fair that has a certain ‘cred’ factor so long as you don’t tell the wife/kids. Before he left, he sampled the true delights of camera shop customer service, so he’d remember what he was missing.

Nuff said, over to the ”Berg” …

I have a copy of the G12. However therein lies the usual tale of gash service etc. You may recall a few years ago the lens purchasing saga. I knew the risk of engaging Bristol Cameras to supply the said device. Any way a week previously I had phoned and they said the camera would be there but the housing might be a day or two later. I went ahead with it.

Then last Wednesday, as per the verbal agreement, Berg shuffled into their city centre premises next door to the site of the previous debacle. Armed with a copy of the order number hastily scribed on a small piece of paper I quoted the digits to the staff: or at least I tried. I had entered a shop some ten feet square; not the largest retail space on the planet. Three staff members were distributed about the shop and not one acknowledged my existence for at least a minute. It eventually dawned on one of these creatures that the idiot stood there expectantly was that rarest of beasts; a fecking analogue customer!!
The code was quoted, not exactly Davinci, just a few integers and characters, the sort of things commonly found on digital devices. The expression became pained, and that was just the ‘assistant’.
“Oh! But we call or e-mail to say the stock is in.” The Berg doesn’t remember this and is sure he would not have graced their doorstep before checking had he known this was required. He remained calm; recalling the saga of the 50mm lens.
A scintilla of service crept into the proceedings.
“Let me check if we have any stock”. The staffer began his search at one end of a shelf affixed near the ceiling. Berg glanced up and spotted the distinctive group of Canon boxes at the opposite end of the shelf to the staffer’s search. The products were distressingly arranged by manufacturer; Canon, Sigma, Nikon etc. Now; call me a bluff old traditionalist, but if I had a ten foot square shop and I worked in it all the time and a customer walked in asking for a Canon camera I’m not too sure I would begin my search at the other end of the shelf. Indeed I’d like to think I would derive some professional satisfaction from knowing what the feck I was doing and having a reasonable grip on what was stored where. We are not talking about some Amazonian warehouse of football pitch dimensions.
“Let me just check again” this time he disappeared to the back room. Berg had already decided he was going to bin this pantomime but remained waiting patiently. The assistant returned and continued to fidget with his ear; a near constant companion of proceedings so far. No joy.
He then picked up the phone and displayed yet more incompetence as he checked the whereabouts of the accessory Berg had also ordered. Remember Berg was told it would be available maybe a day or so later.
“No; we won’t have that until mid March at the earliest”
As a result of residing at her majesty’s pleasure some years ago Berg has been left with, shall we say, an arcane skill set. He repressed all of them and departed the fix; leaving the staff with the ability to walk and talk; and their premises intact.
Time was of the essence so being in a city centre shopping area, Berg trudged off in search of other camera emporia. He found one and walked in. A brief recce revealed a copy of the desired model on the shelf. The tried and tested point and grunt mode of communication succeeded. Moments later he emerged onto the high street with a brand new G12, twenty beer tokens cheaper, so the resultant saving could be spent on beer, wimin and guns, (this is Bristol after all).

The left over cash he’d waste.

Another 20 tons of rubber dog shit leaves Nam,
One day Berg, all this will be yours, with your luck that is ...

Paradise City

Posted in canon, canon g10, entertainment, environment, exhibition, Humour, internet shopping, life, London, london underground, media, model railroad, model railway, modelling, photography, rail, travel, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 2, 2011 by norvenmunky

Albert Square 2010

Albert Square

We’ve all got our idea of a Paradise City, places we’ve been, lived, worked, read about, well this is mine, unashamedly, London. Where it all started was Lambeff, Albert Square to be precise, not that crappy beeb London one, but the real, sahf of the riva, see above. I never really thought about why I felt such an affinity with the Kings Cross area when I worked there, but re-visiting pictures it seems that the similar architecture of Georgian three storey architecture with basements and Portland stone probably made an impact on the two year old NM prior to heading out of town, a relief then to realise it wasn’t just the drink, prostitutes and drugs that captivated me on my return. Sometimes I wasted my money on toy trains.

MRM Kings Cross London

That led me to working at the Model Railway Manufacturing Co. Ltd. of York Way. The building has survived the recent development of the area and is now a restaurant. That will be somewhat ironic for the previous staff members who worked there, in that you can now order food to be eaten in the building, rather than using our shop intercom from three buildings away. That could be used, (allegedly), to order food in a cafe, Renzo’s, (three doors away), much to the dissapointment of the proprietor whom on opening an unsummoned dumb waiter, was to see ‘Dooamaneg’ glaring balefully at him on a grease laden sloppy plate…

The friendships built up there still last to this day, some of the antics still bring a wry smile to the face. As youngsters into ‘London’ it was important to find out the area, so we had a street map on the wall, theoretically, for customers who pre googlespace/mytube/facetwatter, wanted to know how to get from place to place. Well there was only one way to find out. Research.

St Pauls

There wasn’t a reseach budget as such, just an unerring faith in our ability to leave the shop at 13:01pm (without a map), ‘RLF’ for twenty to twenty five minutes, and then deliberately find a different route back to be through the door at 13:59pm. The result then being plotted on the map using the shop as the centre and a radius/range being drawn in with a compass. Therefore if a customer asked how long it took to walk to X, you could theoretically give an answer …

Thames from the 'right' side of the river ...

Now, Nm’s regular readers will already be seeing ‘potential’ for interesting and frank, free flowing discussion with ‘management’ on return to the shop, and to be fair there were a few occasisions when such discussion took place. I can recall one particular return trip that went ‘a bit wrong’. We’d headed south to Holborn, via Bloomsbury on a beautiful spring day, but had headed back to route up Grays Inn road. We’d been a bit too long and it wasn’t the first time we’d been bollocked for being late, so the pressure was on. The lack of map bit us here and we were actually lost but continued ducking and diving up side streets to head north. We came across a small playing field and thought we could see a way out at the far end, so we were ‘safe’ and stated to walk. At the end of the field we came to a brick wall, literally, about 8ft high, too high to see over. Doing the old schoolboy run at it and jump, scrabble up and sit on the top worked. The only problem there was, was a concrete yard the other side but with a bigger drop, and expensive cars, probably a law firms parking area. A shout and we simultaneously took our chance and dropped into the yard, splitting in opposite directions, just like the filums. We exited through two different gates running, followed by shouts of very rude words, from an old boy presumably in charge of ‘security’ having served on the Russian Convoys, and used to chasing cabin boys all over the decks. We got back to the shop in time for a summary bollocking, and every siren that sounded that afternoon had us on tenterhooks.

What it did do was to provide a better than ‘the knowledge’ knowledge of the part of North London around the Kings Cross area, including all the street life that entailed.

Trafalgar Square

Street life occaisionally came into the shop, where it was the job of whoever wasn’t ‘busy’ to remove them. Nm had a absolute pearler of a case where he very quickly learnt one of lifes lessons, this was re-inforced by ones colleagues ‘QFO’ing as soon as they realised the Quatermass pit sized whole Nm had dug himself. A lady came into the shop, looking a little distressed, but nothing un-usual to raise alarm bells. (Even at that time Nm was pretty streetwise, being able to identify a pimp/pro/ned/alchy/smackhead at twenty paces). It was a lunchtime, ‘may I use your toilet she asked?’, seemed reasonable, didn’t smell odd, she looked alright, ‘clean’, if you know what I mean, if you don’t … Well, yep Nm says and showed her the way (to the bog).

After about five mins she hadn’t re-appeared. Helpfull comments and queries such as ‘is she still in there?’ from my colleagues rapidly followed, countered with ‘Yeh, she’s probably reading a paper or summat’ from an increasingly intrigued worried Nm. Well a good half an hour passed, questioned through the door, ‘are you alright luv?’ from Nm, his colleagues helpfully asking ‘how are you going to get her out then?’ When on Top Gear one of the guys gets left by the others whilst taking the piss as they leave is just so true, it’s almost a right of passage, and when it happens to you with the right bunch of mates it almost makes it alright. Now the crapper was on the stairs and Nm had to hovver near it to appear like he was just going for one whenever the bosses appreared, to prevent them asking any awkward questions, like ‘WTF is the smackhead doing in the crapper?’

After a good hour or so Nm was thinking I’m going to
a/ have to go in, but the door is locked from the inside …
b/ tell the boss the smell isn’t in fact one of Bri’s unholy ones
c/ just run away

There was a dreadful groaning from the crapper, which was peculiar for Nm. It at least meant that the tart wasn’t dead, but filled him with the dread of getting the aforementioned ‘trollied’ bint out of the shop, negotiating her past a counter full of customers, ‘interested’ colleagues and a security camera attached to a CCTV. The thought of dragging or firemans lifting an unconscious bird through the shop and being caught on camera (again) just filled him with ‘bowell water’ making fear. It is at these times that you realise why adrenaline is brown and leads to real moments of fear inspired brilliance. There were two front doors to the shop, No14 and No12, No12 rarely used. If the bint could be steered through the rear stock room, past the phone and map to No12, there was a real chance she could be released into the wild relatively discretely. So Nm managed to lift the latch of the door at No12, easing it shut so the boss couldn’t see it was open, and as soon as the bint opened the door to the karzi, at about the hour + fifteen mark, he very quickly shoved, escorted her to the other door where on leaving she belched a projectile stream of the foulest smelling puke Nm’s ever had the displeasure to encounter. Well you’ve read the blog, you can easily imagine…
Nm slammed the door behind her and turned to see the boss who had come down the other stairs looking at him very oddly. ‘Whats up’ he said?, ‘Oh just some drunken tart who’s puked in 12’s doorway’ Nm straightface replied. Seemed to work. There were a few comments re the whiff from No14’s crapper though, it stank as though someone had emptied the entire waste contents of Smithfield, Covent Garden and Billingsgate and a bit of soggy cardboard into the smallest room. Nm gave it a quick clean, and declared it clear of sharps and fit for use, (the tart that is, not the bog).

In true team spirit the smell was blamed on Bri.
It’s what mates are for.

Millenium Bridge

Albert Sq piccies from http://www.flickr.com/photos/sczscz/

Take it to the limit

Posted in dogs, ebay, Humour, internet shopping, life, pets, photography, shoes, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on September 17, 2008 by norvenmunky

Ebay’s a fascinating place, with lots of ‘stuff’ on offer. A good friend of mine advised several of us that he had found Faux leather dog boots for sale. He’s still not put his hand up to what he was actually looking for when he stumbled across this little gem, but we’ll let that pass.

So with the natural inability of the usual ebayer to write sentences or use fings like gramma the undoubted target market is to attract the urbane urbanites, shaved head, mouth breather, vacant look, IQ of around 55. Parents no prettier. You’ve seen them.

Apparently then, if you have a dog, you need:
Description:
Durable and breathable Small Protective Pet Dog Boots Leather Booties Shoes
Your pet will be the hottest dog on the street when she steps out in these cool, stylish Protective Dog Boots.

It is of course reassuring to know that these are destined for bitches, it seems somehow ‘right’. None of your ‘gangsta’ bling Ridgebacks will be wearing these this season …

With Velcro straps, making the Dog Boots very easy to put on.
The Velcro assisting with holding Fifi down whilst the fake leather is wrestled on the end of her little pins.
Fashion Dog Boots Shoes to make sure your pooch looks smart and cute,
Hmm… see ‘fun’ photo shoot later, if you ‘re not worried by now, you bloody well should be.

With deluxe anti-slip rubber sole,
So, dogs, and anti-slip rubber specified, even the Welsh sheep are beginning to look uneasy, glancing in each others ears, almost as if they hold some gungy, black, waxy muck to be responsible for the flow of obscene possibilities that’s beginning to reach their brains.

For ‘fun’ Photo-shoot sessions. Sure to bring you lots of fun and laughters.
Material: Faux leather
Package set of 4

You just want to steer well clear of anyone offering to show you pictures of their ‘fun photo shoot’ bitch sessions. Next thing you know they’ll be offering to re-paint your garage door by the River Mimram, with some naked bint and a pack of four! Despite the entreprenurial nature of the offer and discounts galore for bulk orders, they’ve missed a trick to supply three packs for all those run over rescue home mutts.

One is also advised to
Please measure your dog’s paws before ordering.
The last thing you want is the wrong size turning up, conversely of course that exactly what the bleedin dog is hoping for.
How to measure
1. Place a paper underneath the front paws (the front paws are usually bigger than the back paws so it will be fine doing just that).

And just in case you’re still not sure, the front ones are down a bit from the hole with the sharp pointy white bits in it, that smells like a dogs bum, and the back ones are underneath that neat strawberry coloured starfish with a brush next to it, that smells like a dogs bum.

2. Outline the paw with a pen (including nails).
From this instruction you rather get the idea that fido has got a bit fecked off with the procedure, if by this time you are having to nail the bloody dog to the floor to draw round its feet.

Have to admit I’m still intrigued as to whether he was looking for a fake leather dog though …