Archive for Media

Australian Supervisor – Banality TV or just another s#!t job?

Posted in Tales From Hell with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 25, 2008 by Buck Frain

Some are born mediocre, some achieve mediocrity and some have mediocrity thrust upon ‘em. 

Oh, for simplicity. Life has become a cheesy, unkempt socialist minge clamped suffocatingly over my red-wine-hungover face. Why, for the love of mercy, can’t I die in my sleep? Why don’t angry gang members just randomly shoot me while I’m buying coffee? I apologise, dear reader, for the infrequency of my entries of late but life my has taken an hitherto unprecedented turn for the feculently absurd.

My evil mouth-breathing minotaur of a boss called me into her office at the end of the week. She was terribly excited and that scared the living fuck out of me. If L.F. is happy about anything then either Creed are in town or something else is very wrong in the world. Indeed it was the latter.

She’d called me in to offer me the opportunity of vying for a promotion. Not to offer me one but to tell me I was now part of a bizarre selection process that appears like a cruel and unusual punishment in itself, for a position that no right-minded person would want in the first place.

They want a new supervisor. Supervisors are the pitiful wastes of humanity who oversee phoneroom work but have no real power except their own bitterness. So The Wobblers have selected four of the more literate and socially presentable interviewers, myself oddly included, to train as Team Leaders (Team Leaders are the people who listen to the calls that you agree to being listened to when bastards like me phone you) for a couple of months, at the end of which one of us would win* and be the new supervisor. She actually said win, I can’t wait for the day my doctor tells me I’ve won cancer.

The only thing I could think as she described this absurdity was that I should immediately call Channel 31 and tell them to get some RMIT students over here to turn it into a reality TV show called Australian Supervisor. It would be brilliant, the briefings and meetings with all their many office sub-plots streaming off. The learning of the ropes, the discussions about  troublesome interviewers, the monitoring the calls between interviewers and the general public, the confessions as we cry about having to reprimand our former comrades over petty transgressions, the patronising analyses of L.F. and the other supers as they rate us against one another. Of course the reality TV version would be much more exciting than the actual reality as the public would be able to vote on us and someone other than ourselves would bear witness to this pitiful existence. The sad banality is far more hopeless, but to my own surprise, after a little resistance, I accepted the offer. I tried to shrug it off initially but L.F. really wanted me to do it, any reasonable employer would have fired me on the spot for my lack of gratitude and work ethic.

Gee, I don’t know. The good thing about interviewing is I can leave for a week or two and still have a job when I come back. Can I still do that as a supervisor?

Well, …yes. I’d need notice but …yes, that’s fine.

How much extra do I earn an hour for all this?

Well, initially…not much…but the successful applicant will make $ 😦

You know, that’s not very much for being accountable for stuff?

Yes, but you’ll find this is a gateway position in the organisation and you could go from here to anywhere if you work hard enough…

What a cuntful pack of bullshit. The words market research and career should not end up in the same sentence together…ever! I should have dropped my trousers in front of her and snapped off a big steaming shit right on her desk before walking away forever, but I didn’t. I listened to the bullshit, I nodded and smiled and I acquiesced. I deluded myself that I would defiantly take the system for all I could at any opportunity, but really…?

In truth, I just sold out. I’m a weak piece of shit the same as all the many people I despise. Fuck, I hate myself, but sadly looking down the barrel of the continued mindless tedium of interviewing, I couldn’t say no. I am such a whore, but like a convict faced with the choice between continued incarceration or parole into an unforgiving world of prejudiced oppression and at-best minimum wage slavery, I chose parole. At least it breaks the tedium, I’ll still be a casual worker with no penalty rates or paid holidays, sick leave or job security, but at least the shifts are longer. Fuck me, who’d have thought I’d ever want to spend more time in that shit-hole than I already do?

If anyone knows how to make bombs out of paper clips and photocopier toner please email the recipe to buck.frain@gmail.com .

 

*She didn’t tell us what would happen to the three applicants who lose, does it not seem strange that none of us actually asked that?

You Wouldn’t Steal A Car – Rip & Burnout!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2008 by Buck Frain

DVD copyright warnings. What the cat-fisting Jesus is with all the warnings? I mean, I go to the shop and buy a DVD. I fucking well BUY it! I take it home and before I’m allowed to watch the fucking thing that I own for fuck’s sake I have to sit through a warning about what will happen if I steal, copy or profit from its piracy. I fucking own it and I have to put up with this accusatory bullshit before I can watch what I legally own! It’s not even like the good old VHS days when you could fast forward through all the shit to get to the good stuff, you have to watch it. And not just once! When you’ve got through one warning you then get a lame-arsed commercial to crappy warning music with fast edits flashing slogans telling you: You wouldn’t steal a car! You wouldn’t steal a handbag! and a whole bunch of other shit so Don’t steal movies! and Movie piracy is stealing! and blah blah shit shit shit. WHAT THE FUCK??? I CUNTING WELL OWN IT, YOU DRIBBLING, SYPHILLITIC NOB-ENDS!!! Even if I didn’t own it, even if I’d just rented it from the fucking video store, isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume I’m going to want to steal it before I’ve even watched the cunting thing? For fuck’s sake, what if it sucks? Why the fuck would I steal a turd?

 

Having bought Season 3 of The Mighty Boosh and put it in my player, part-way through the multiple warnings I’ll have to watch every time I want to view the DVD, I got so fucked off I just stood up and stomped my coffee table to pieces Eh, master-race IKEA bullshit, I always despised you anyway! took the pieces out into my courtyard, doused them in lighter fluid and incinerated them. I felt a little better and as the flames of triumphant fury warmed my face I started thinking about why the DVD companies should feel the need to have so many warnings cluttering up their shit.

 

Why? Fucking why have multiple warnings about piracy before and after films as well as all over the packaging? DVDs I’ve bought from the USA have FBI warnings on them for shit’s sake! Watch out, bitches, the fuckin’ feds are comin’ to bust yo punk ass!!! It all seems a pretty heavy-handed policy of intimidation but it’s all undone by the commercials with their imploring consumers to do the right thing. To the untrained eye it would appear almost as though they’re trying to prevent something they have absolutely no control over, you know, like when kittens puff all their fur up and walk sideways in an attempt to look frightening. Except, of course, kittens are cute and they don’t prevent you watching movies you’ve paid for with a never-ending stream of pissing and moaning about what they’ll do to you if you avoid their copy-protection systems with easily-available freeware applications and burn exact digital replicas of their product rather than forking out ridiculous amounts of money for an obsolete media format. Well, be realistic, if they did you’d just lock them in the kitchen and sit down and enjoy your movie without them.

 

You wouldn’t steal a car! Well, let’s think about that: If I could steal it by cheaply making an exact replica so I’d have exactly the same car but the owner wouldn’t know I’d done it nor would he lose any benefit of his car and I’d probably never ever get caught for it- fuck it, wouldn’t I steal it? Of course I fucking would! I’d have a yard full of faux-Ferraris, Lamborghinis, you fucking name it, I’d never watch a fucking movie again!

 

If anyone has software for copying furniture please e-mail me, I need to pirate a coffee table, I’ve been spending too much money on DVDs!

You’re so vain, you probably think I’m trying to kill you.

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 3, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

People are far, far more stupid than I had realised. It’s days like this where I despair for the human race and just want the cockroaches to take over – I doubt they’d do a worse job. I know I’m not the most charitable chap when it comes to evaluating the average intelligence of my species, but I think even I may have been overly generous thus far.

 

I read this article today and I’ve been hearing similar bulletins all over the radio warning the mobile phone owners of Australia not to respond to a text message scam saying:

 

Someone paid me to kill you. If you want me to spare you, I give you 2 days to pay 5000 dollars. If you inform the police or anybody, you will die, I am monitoring you.

 

How fucking stupid are you? If you’re enough of a douche bag to fall for that, you deserve not only to lose your money but to be beaten with a sledgehammer, dragged behind a car, chewed by wild dogs and set on fire. WAKE THE FUCK UP!!! How many hitmen tell you they’re going to kill you? How many hitmen ruin their own professional image by letting clients buy them off? How many hitmen can be bought off by clients for a meager $5000? I mean, how much was the cunt hired for in the first place? A bag of weed and some 2-minute noodles? What the shit-streaked pants are you thinking?

 

So…have you crawled out from under the bed yet? Will you be able to sleep tonight? If you’re still scared just ask yourself this: Who the fuck are you that someone would want you dead and feel strongly enough about it to spend money getting it done? Be honest now. No-one. Not one single person gives that much of a fuck about your imbecilic arse, do they? In fact, if you died tomorrow in your apartment, it would be a couple of weeks before the neighbours complained about the stench – that’s the truth, isn’t it? Yeah! So just shut the shit-eating-fuck up and relax!

 

If you’ve had a text message like the one above and after reading all this you’re still worried, please contact me at buck.frain@gmail.com  Include your address and when you’re likely to be home and, when I have time, I’ll make a special trip over to kick the living cunt out of you for being a stupid sack of self-absorbed shit. With all my heart: GET FUCKED!!!

Corporate Freeloaders – Just Turning A Buck & Being Frank

Posted in Rage Against The Machine with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 27, 2008 by Buck Frain

Corporate freeloading is at an all time high, it seems to me that the world is filled with two types of people: the poor who, despite my reasonably comfortable western existence, I consider myself one of; and the rich who, it seems, are all lying, shit-sucking, opportunist arseholes who should all be butchered like pigs.

 

I went for a job interview today, in a desperate effort to improve my life and find some greater level of contentment or even happiness. I realise that might gravely change the complexion of this blog but I’m happy to hazard that, call me selfish.

 

This was an interview for a real job, at a real company, with supposedly real people doing something that possibly might be challenging, interesting and not leave me with a musty residue of self-loathing I need to douse liberally with beer after every shift. I mean, wouldn’t it be great to go to work for people you like, doing something you believe in? That’d be fuckin’ brilliant! So, I was excited and a little nervous as I sat in a plush leather seat in the waiting room. The receptionist had been friendly in a disarmingly genuine way and I felt…at home…for a while.

 

A genial man I’ll call Frank, because that’s his name, greeted me and led me into a meeting room with a panel of four other executives all sat behind a large table at one end of which sat a video camera. Introductions, I sat, all very friendly, hmm…the camera watched silently. Frank handed me a piece of paper,

 

Would you mind filling this out? We’d like to video the interview for training purposes, it’s just a waiver.

 

I stared at the piece of paper for a little while. I was thrown, I wasn’t expecting this and I didn’t know how to react. I looked up at the panel and then back at the waiver. I couldn’t focus clearly with the panel scrutinizing me to read it properly but it said something to the effect that they would be able to use the video in-house pretty much as they saw fit and that I wouldn’t be making any cash out of it. Nah…it just didn’t sit right.

 

Hey look, um…I don’t really feel comfortable with this…

 

I indicated the camera and waiver.

 

That’s fine, that’s fine, let’s just get down to business.

 

I got the feeling it kinda wasn’t fine. I’d ear-marked myself as a trouble maker, I was definitely not a company man, I couldn’t be trusted to toe the line. The rest of the interview went smoothly, I guess, pleasant goodbyes, exit.

 

The further I got from the office, the angrier I got. What the steaming shit sandwich was that all about? In the old days they would get actors – not famous ones – to do corporate training videos, and they’d pay them with money – not much money. These cunts wanted me to provide them with training tools for free without even the guarantee of a job. What the fuck is that about? How much more disgustingly opportunistic could they be? Exploiting people who want jobs for company interviewer training materials. Was it a test? Was that part of the deal, if you don’t agree to be filmed we won’t even consider you for the position? And what the stapled pissflaps else were they going to use the video for? Maybe a mood lightener after lunch at boring seminars: And here’s some of the useless shit-sacks we DIDN”T hire this year! Was I to be part of an Idol-style montage of losers to entertain soulless obese executives. By this stage, I wasn’t just a bit narky about it, I was royally fucked off! I wanted to call that smarmy prick, Frank, and tell him:

 

Hey Frank, I’ve had a think about it and y’know what? You can use the video, that’s fine with me, on one condition. That you and the other members of your panel each eat a full teaspoon of my shit. How’s that sound, Frank? I’ll even bring the spoons! Ya fuckin’ CUNT! GET FUCKED!!!

 

I had the mobile in my hand. I had the number on my screen. I didn’t want their job any more so it wasn’t about not wanting to burn bridges, I just realised that Frank wouldn’t get it. The Franks of the world won’t understand people’s indignation at corporate exploitation and even if they did, The Franks probably wouldn’t care.

 

I have never met an honest rich person. Is that just how it works?

Door-to-door Euthanasia – The Business Of The Future!

Posted in Crap Jobs with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 15, 2008 by Buck Frain

I had a great idea for a direct marketing business today. It just came to me. Door-to-door Euthanasia. Genius! Think about it:- The planet’s chronically overpopulated, we’re consuming natural resources at a thoroughly unsustainable rate and we’re polluting our environment to an extent that the planet will be uninhabitable by humans within 100 years. The human race is done. Most people are already killing themselves, in a slow, cowardly consumerist way at least: cigarettes, alcohol, junk food, drugs, mobile phones, driving whilst doing any or all of the former. Most of these people recognise the subtly suicidal undertones to these behaviours. Most of these people also wouldn’t be able to give you any decent justification for their continuing existence on the planet. It’s a pretty easy sell.

Huddled into their dingy homes crammed with unused exercise machines and sporting memorabilia, glued to commercial TV banality, stuffing their obese bodies with fatty home delivered death, all the while decaying intellectually and spiritually, and refusing to participate in the affluent democracy that spawned them. All they want is someone to show them a product they can buy, that doesn’t require any effort on their part other than an outlay of cash, and that will solve all their problems – forever.

It’s just an idea at this stage and I realise I’d have to dress it up with some quasi-spiritual promise of wealth, stardom and beauty in some sort of afterlife. Not to mention a serious money-back guarantee, but I’m on to something, that’s for sure.

Oh fuck, I’ve turned into Satan! I gotta start looking for another line of work, I don’t think I’m very well.

Idiots Enslaved By Technology.

Posted in Tales From Hell with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2008 by Buck Frain

The life of a market research interviewer is tedious at best. Sitting in a booth phoning people and boring them to death with mundane questions about crap they don’t care about. I’m serious, where the fuck do you find people aged 18-34 who don’t use libraries but do want to spend 15 minutes answering questions about why they don’t use them? Genius! Aren’t you glad you pay tax?

I freely acknowledge that my job is stupid, pointless and on occasions invasive but I’m constantly amazed by the psychotic levels of rage it incites in seemingly ordinary people, and for that matter how stupid most people are. I mean, I don’t sell anything, I’m not asking for money, all I want is time. If you don’t have any or if you’re not interested, no worries. Thanks for your time, see ya – I move on. But, no,  people lose their shit. It seems to me that there are a massive number of people who are so disempowered and shat-upon in their regular lives that they need to cut loose at someone, anyone,  and the lowly, anonymous market research interviewer is a perfect target. Most of them are pretty unimaginative:

Fuck off, ya fuckin’ cunt!

That’s cool. Occasionally, I get mildly more imaginative attempts.

You shouldn’t be phoning me, I’m on the witness protection programme.

Yeah, and you tell people that? Smart. But then there are the people who think we’re deliberately targeting them ‘cause they’re oh so important!

Why do you call at dinner time, everyone’s having their dinner, don’t you people know that?

Oh yeah, that’s right, this is the legally designated, universal, unvarying time when the evening meal is consumed, it can’t ever happen at another time and we’re calling you so yours gets cold. Are you stupid? Fuck off and die!

Dontcha know I’m watchin’ the fuckin’ footy?

Of course I do, I can see you on the camera we put in your lounge room, I’m just ringing to fuck with your puny mind! Would you like to buy some DVDs of you shagging your dog?

Then there’s people who go crazy that they have a silent number and I’ve rung them on it, and they don’t even know me. Angry as piss because they pay for something that doesn’t prevent anyone calling them. I’m polite to these people but Jesus they’re ridiculous because, despite their protestations, they don’t actually want to end the call. They want to crap on and on and make me feel guilty for intruding into their lives – never gonna happen! I’d be happy to leave them in peace but they won’t let me, they want to lecture me on being an evil fucker for wasting their lives. Shit, I’m not wasting it, fuckface, it’s a phone – HANG THE FUCKER UP!!!

For fuck’s sake, do you have to answer your phone? If you don’t want to speak to people, don’t, I don’t make you. Just don’t pick it up. Stop being a slave to your technology! Get the fuck over it! And while we’re at it, if you’re angry at your life don’t expect me to give a fat rat’s clacker – hell, I’ve got my own shit to deal with. Pathetic Pavlovian shit-brains – I have absolutely no cunting sympathy! Don’t answer your phone if you don’t wanna talk to people! Don’t respond to the bell like a dog to a whistle! Remember – YOU HAVE FREE WILL. Well, some of us do.

This is the saddest thing. So many people have become completely enslaved by their means of communication. I’ve called people who have answered the phone while fucking. They don’t usually tell me but it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. Then they have the nerve to get mad at me about it. Hey, I’m not the fucktard who answers his phone mid-root. Damn, isn’t that what voicemail’s for? Ooh, but what if it’s important? If it’s important they’ll ring back. People are stupid. The human race is doomed!

The AMA – Saving Your Life, Stealing Your Freedom.

Posted in Rage Against The Machine with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2008 by Buck Frain

The Australian Medical Association should have the absolute fuck kicked out of it for being a bunch of Orwellian wank-stains and insulting to the rights of free people. Who the fuck do they think they are? They’re in the paper this weekend calling for the government to ban the funding of any film, play or piece of art that contains smoking. The Australian arts industry is small and relies heavily on government funding. In this move the AMA seek to censor artistic expression and control the reflection of society being presented by artists. They are, in effect, calling for an end to free expression, and why? Because people get addicted to cigarettes and die. Big fucking deal! People get killed by cars, are they going to seek an end to car chase scenes as well? Of course not, they know everyone would tell them to fuck off which is pretty much what’s happening anyway.

If the government were to rise to the bait, what the fuck would we be allowed to see in our entertainment? People working out and eating properly? Fuck – that sounds like a great fucking film! Yeah Doc, I’ll fork out $15 to watch smug shit-sacks being perfect while all around my real life the world goes to hell. FUCK YOU, and thanks for killing the Aussie film industry, you miserable CUNT!

I used to smoke cigarettes. I smoked a pack a day for fifteen years and two years ago I stopped. I didn’t start smoking because of movies, I started because I liked the smell. I hate smoking, I hate the addiction, but I believe it is everyone’s right to choose for themselves. Freedom is all about choice. I don’t put down or look down on my friends who smoke and I consider them just as much a part of this society as I am. Smokers are already pariahs, huddled together, dejected and despised outside buildings in the freezing cold, the AMA would make them invisible too.

As an adult in a free society, I should be able to do pretty much whatever I want providing it doesn’t negatively impact anyone else’s right to do whatever they want. If I choose to smoke surely that is my right as an adult. This right is not the one under threat, the right to see a fictional depiction of person smoking tobacco, something that actually happens, is what the AMA would remove from us. They want to remove artists’ rights to reflect certain elements of the society they live in. These guys are a bunch of doctors, yeah? Fuck-head meddling doctors with no concept of the importance of art in defining cultural identity. They should stick to medicine and making people well. Have you cunts cured cancer yet? No? Well, get back to fucking work and leave artistic content to artists, you useless fuckbags! What value does good health have when you have no freedom left to enjoy with it?