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A Dirty Job

Epilogue.
Thursday 30 August 2007

Re yesterday's late-night events, I forgot to add that the woman - Ms Ketchup - wouldn't let the man back inside their chalet, but she had his credit cards in her wallet, which he wanted back. He also wanted the keys to her car so he could sleep in that, but she wouldn't give them up in case he drove away and/or turned up again in the middle of the night (the residence keys were on there as well - why she didn't think to separate them is any genius' guess).

So they had to come to a compromise, organised by my boss - the man got the cards and, temporarily, the keys, but the latter was returned to the lady after the chap bedded down, by my boss.

I tell you: the place is fucking mental. Where else does this kind of shit happen? Nowhere, that's where.

It's worth noting that neither of them came up for a drink tonight.

I also forgot to mention that Bilbo quit on Sunday. He was going to be fired anyway, but he figured he'd beat them all to the punch, just to make it even more of a farce.

So, when Edmonson and I hand our notices in this Friday, a week later there will only be three doorstaff left. Even if they work seven days a week a piece, there won't be enough of them.

"Hello, is that the SIA...?"


posted by Sheamus @ 2:00 am




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