November 6th, 2003


Why should she care, it's only her job...

The Royal Mail workers go on strike and piss the entire country off. Then they start working again... and piss me directly off. I sent the photos out on Wednesday afternoon: all packaged up nicely, as per usual. I tell the nice lady behind the glass that I want them delivered first class. She asks what's in the package and I tell her that it contains photographs and how much they cost. She says that she'll send them separately to the rest of the crap. She even goes as far as wrapping an elastic band around both envelopes with a slip that says something like 'donotbend'...

Hey, Kids. Guess what happens? Well, they get Royally Fucked in the post don't they. Mike described them as being mangled. Utterly fantastic. She must've really put some effort into keeping them safe. A lot of effort. With her elastic band.

Christ, it's getting to the point where you can no longer trust anyone to do what they promise. I try to tell myself that it's just circumstances getting on top of me but... *very heavy sigh* ... let's just say that if I were handling mail I'd do it carefully; possibly with some kind of pride in my work.

Still, I've promised Mike a full refund and asked him to send the photos 'back to sender' which, at the very least, won't cost him [unless they've changed the rules on that too].

When they make it back to me I'll be able to lodge a complaint; with evidence. Although going on last years broken CD saga I don't expect much. Hell, they hardly took the time to write a letter of apology let alone provide any compensation other than postage fees.

Oh, honestly. No wonder this country's so shit. No one gives damn about anything anymore. I swear that I'd be better off living in a hut by a lake than trying to struggle my way through this messed up pile of apathy called life. I'm too good for it.

I actively put myself out on a daily basis to make the world a slightly better place. I do it via my artwork and my websites. I do it via the countless favours I indulge people in each and every day [yes, I'm talking about the favour I did for you]. I do it through holding doors for people, through letting old women queue jump, through saying please and thank you where appropriate.

What do I get out of it all. A warm and tingly feeling in my core. No. I get a feeling that people don't give a flying fuck what you do for them. That everyone's out to get what they can until they've milked you dry and then they'll do it to the next sap whilst they tread nonchalantly over your grinning corpse.

When I was young I used to paint multi-colour pictures of rainbows and smiley-faced butterflies. I had a full colour palette. Now I paint in black and derivations thereof.

Thank you.