Itchy and Scratchy

Thrush has amazing powers of annoyance. People ask what actually makes him such an irritating cunt and I struggle to respond. It’s an x-factor; I don’t know what it is, but I know it when I see it.

I overhear him saying things that I am willing to let go. For example, he sometimes uses some strange turns-of-phrase when speaking to customers that often leaves them puzzled: “Well, I’ll deal with that before you get the jungle-drums drumming.”

Huh?

I made the mistake of trying to tackle him today. He was referring to “a missive from the computer”.

“It doesn’t sound good John. It makes us appear faceless and dehumanised.” I said.

“We are.”

He had a point, but I continued to press on. “I don’t think it helps a customer’s situation when the only comfort you can offer is ‘it was the computer wot done it’” I had a slightly condescending tone in my voice.

He snorted though his nose. Smiled. “It was the computer ‘wot did it’” He used his fingers to create inverted commas.

It was Nietzsche, I think, who said that if you stare at the abyss long enough it starts to stare back at you.

I walked away.