Profile for golddust:
Employed, not happily.
Getting a bit fed up with B3ta. You used to be able to write answers/stories on QOTW and people would either read and enjoy them or ignore them. Now people just seem to start name calling and being arseholes.
So to all those who think it's ok to get off by insulting others you can go fuck yourselves. Cheerio.
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- a member for 18 years, 2 months and 14 days
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Employed, not happily.
Getting a bit fed up with B3ta. You used to be able to write answers/stories on QOTW and people would either read and enjoy them or ignore them. Now people just seem to start name calling and being arseholes.
So to all those who think it's ok to get off by insulting others you can go fuck yourselves. Cheerio.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Sticking it to The Man
British Gas took Dad to court
As a teenager I lived with the parents in a new house which, due to my Mum's demands on the builder, had no gas whatsoever. An all electric house.
So when the gas meter man knocked on the door one day and I answered it he said he was here to read the meter. I pointed to the cupboard outside. "That's the electric meter" he says, "it's the only meter I know of" says I. "It's probably inside, can I come in?" he asks, "No." I say simply because I didn't want some perve with a beard looking around the house for a non-existent meter. "I'll have to estimate it then" was his parting comment.
That got the ball rolling, as some weeks later we got our first estimated gas bill to a house with no gas supply. Dad ignored it.
That bill became a red one, then another red one. Then came the threats of court action etc etc. Dad was clearly enjoying this and kept quiet while all the paperwork arrived.
In time a lady called at the door asking if we were having trouble paying. "I don't think I have to pay it" says Dad. This clearly made up their mind that we were being stubborn and Dad was summonsed to the court to defend his case of why he'd not paid the gas bill.
I gather the court process took less than 10 mins and went along the lines of:
Blah blah blah - you've not paid, taking services without payment, breach of contract etc.
My Dad's defence was a one liner: "I don't have an account with British Gas and the house doesn't have a gas supply".
Red faces on the BG side of things who decided they'd have to check their records.
My Dad was able to claim from them for his time, travel, inconvenience etc etc whilst they also had to pay their own costs simply because they couldn't actually be bothered to check if we actually had a gas supply.
(Wed 23rd Jun 2010, 12:40, More)
British Gas took Dad to court
As a teenager I lived with the parents in a new house which, due to my Mum's demands on the builder, had no gas whatsoever. An all electric house.
So when the gas meter man knocked on the door one day and I answered it he said he was here to read the meter. I pointed to the cupboard outside. "That's the electric meter" he says, "it's the only meter I know of" says I. "It's probably inside, can I come in?" he asks, "No." I say simply because I didn't want some perve with a beard looking around the house for a non-existent meter. "I'll have to estimate it then" was his parting comment.
That got the ball rolling, as some weeks later we got our first estimated gas bill to a house with no gas supply. Dad ignored it.
That bill became a red one, then another red one. Then came the threats of court action etc etc. Dad was clearly enjoying this and kept quiet while all the paperwork arrived.
In time a lady called at the door asking if we were having trouble paying. "I don't think I have to pay it" says Dad. This clearly made up their mind that we were being stubborn and Dad was summonsed to the court to defend his case of why he'd not paid the gas bill.
I gather the court process took less than 10 mins and went along the lines of:
Blah blah blah - you've not paid, taking services without payment, breach of contract etc.
My Dad's defence was a one liner: "I don't have an account with British Gas and the house doesn't have a gas supply".
Red faces on the BG side of things who decided they'd have to check their records.
My Dad was able to claim from them for his time, travel, inconvenience etc etc whilst they also had to pay their own costs simply because they couldn't actually be bothered to check if we actually had a gas supply.
(Wed 23rd Jun 2010, 12:40, More)
» Failed Projects
Time to stop failing
Probably not that funny so skip it if you can't face the self confession that follows of how starting tomorrow I hope to turn my life around.
Quick background. 18 months ago after 9 years with the ex, 1 year of marriage and 2 years of parenthood she decided the day after her graduation and would potentially have a decent income of her own would be the best time to split us up. After the shock of it all the realisation came I'd put all my free time & effort into supporting her and effectively had no friends, no hobbies and no money.
So since then I've been living in my parents spare room. Spending as much time with my daughter as possible. This was clearly a massively important thing to my daughter who found her mum fancied a 6 week holiday to Australia last Christmas without her, several other holidays along the way, numerous nights out living the single life.
Like a thorn in my side I've watched the ex live like this while I paid solicitors bills to divorce her, with the routine threats from her to make my life hell anytime a decision wasn't in her favour. For 18 months I've plodded along in a daze, not really having much fun, had a battle with depression that I concealed from all but my Doctor. My work life went to crap and I know I've let my boss down by not getting anywhere with my work for too long. All the time gradually getting myself straight.
The son of a bank manager I should have been in a better place financially, apparantly my being too tight with money was another reason we split up, yet I came away in debt from supporting a lifestyle we couldn't afford as I was the only one of us with a salary.
Essentially I failed at life for too many years.
Over a year of scrimping and saving I paid off the debts I was left with. Beyond that I managed to save up a modest lump sum and told my parents I wanted to move on and move out to my own place. I cannot put into words the gratitude I have for my parents helping me make this happen with a generous loan.
Tomorrow I move into a home of my own for the first time in 10 years. I've worked hard to get this far. All my furniture is second hand but it's chosen by me because I like it, and best of all there is a bedroom for my daughter (in trying to agree over money I had trapped in the marital home she said I only needed a 1 bed flat at most).
My daughter and I have become so close and even though she's only 3 she's quite insightful. I don't know what to say when she tells me "she knows Mummy loves her but she doesn't love mummy and wants to live with me". I know nothing will happen for a while but I suspect the day will come when she's old enough she will decide to live with me instead. Until then I'm there whenever she needs me and the times she doesn't.
Starting tomorrow I'm going to try to put it all right.
Work hard. Look after MY home. Be the best Dad I can. Never live beyond my own means.
For the first time in a very long time I'm full of hope and every day I look forward to tomorrow. This time I will not fail.
Sorry for the lack of anecdote etc, just needed to put it into words really to see how far I've come.
(Fri 4th Dec 2009, 17:26, More)
Time to stop failing
Probably not that funny so skip it if you can't face the self confession that follows of how starting tomorrow I hope to turn my life around.
Quick background. 18 months ago after 9 years with the ex, 1 year of marriage and 2 years of parenthood she decided the day after her graduation and would potentially have a decent income of her own would be the best time to split us up. After the shock of it all the realisation came I'd put all my free time & effort into supporting her and effectively had no friends, no hobbies and no money.
So since then I've been living in my parents spare room. Spending as much time with my daughter as possible. This was clearly a massively important thing to my daughter who found her mum fancied a 6 week holiday to Australia last Christmas without her, several other holidays along the way, numerous nights out living the single life.
Like a thorn in my side I've watched the ex live like this while I paid solicitors bills to divorce her, with the routine threats from her to make my life hell anytime a decision wasn't in her favour. For 18 months I've plodded along in a daze, not really having much fun, had a battle with depression that I concealed from all but my Doctor. My work life went to crap and I know I've let my boss down by not getting anywhere with my work for too long. All the time gradually getting myself straight.
The son of a bank manager I should have been in a better place financially, apparantly my being too tight with money was another reason we split up, yet I came away in debt from supporting a lifestyle we couldn't afford as I was the only one of us with a salary.
Essentially I failed at life for too many years.
Over a year of scrimping and saving I paid off the debts I was left with. Beyond that I managed to save up a modest lump sum and told my parents I wanted to move on and move out to my own place. I cannot put into words the gratitude I have for my parents helping me make this happen with a generous loan.
Tomorrow I move into a home of my own for the first time in 10 years. I've worked hard to get this far. All my furniture is second hand but it's chosen by me because I like it, and best of all there is a bedroom for my daughter (in trying to agree over money I had trapped in the marital home she said I only needed a 1 bed flat at most).
My daughter and I have become so close and even though she's only 3 she's quite insightful. I don't know what to say when she tells me "she knows Mummy loves her but she doesn't love mummy and wants to live with me". I know nothing will happen for a while but I suspect the day will come when she's old enough she will decide to live with me instead. Until then I'm there whenever she needs me and the times she doesn't.
Starting tomorrow I'm going to try to put it all right.
Work hard. Look after MY home. Be the best Dad I can. Never live beyond my own means.
For the first time in a very long time I'm full of hope and every day I look forward to tomorrow. This time I will not fail.
Sorry for the lack of anecdote etc, just needed to put it into words really to see how far I've come.
(Fri 4th Dec 2009, 17:26, More)
» Customers from Hell
Hello, I'm from British Gas. I'm here to read your meter...
That was my standard opening line to whoever answered the door I was stood at one summer.
Now this made for an interesting job... not only did I meet a massive cross section of society but I did so on their "home turf", plus they weren't expecting me so all sorts of states of unreadiness were found.
Some highlights if you like;
- "We've just had a gas bill, I don't want another one!"
"Well you'll be getting a bill anyway but if I read the meter it will at least be accurate instead of estimated".
"But I don't want a bill, you're not coming in."
"OK, I'll write it down as refused access then?" (For those in the know this is a black mark against your name in the eyes of the gas board!)
- Then there was the nutter... The door opened on a VERY hot summers day and there stood this lady about 60yrs old in a heavy winter coat and tea cosy hat.
"Are you here to take me to the hospital?"
"No, just to read the gas meter".
"Oh, because I think I'm supposed to go to the hospital".
My notes told me the meter was just inside the hallway and behind her I could see the small cupboard it was in. After gaining entry I then became alarmed by the fact that EVERY FUCKING INCH of wall was written on in various pens. The outpoured mental rantings of someone clearly not right in the noggin. It was like something from a hollywood film, total nut job.
After reading the meter I left sharpish, only to be pursued down the road as she called out "but we need to go to the hospital! The doctor will be cross if I'm not there!"
- Another favourite was I rang the doorbell and almost instantly the door opened to a man sitting on a small footstool in the hallway in a string vest and shorts literally polishing a shotgun.
From upstairs a lady called out "Who's at the fucking door!?"
"Some wanker from the council!" he replies, all the time staring right at me.
"No," I stammered back at him, "I'm the wanker from the gas board".
Luckily he found this amusing and let me in to read the meter... "Nice gun" I commented as I left.
"Yeah, I'm waiting for the man from the council." he replied.
(Fri 5th Sep 2008, 10:44, More)
Hello, I'm from British Gas. I'm here to read your meter...
That was my standard opening line to whoever answered the door I was stood at one summer.
Now this made for an interesting job... not only did I meet a massive cross section of society but I did so on their "home turf", plus they weren't expecting me so all sorts of states of unreadiness were found.
Some highlights if you like;
- "We've just had a gas bill, I don't want another one!"
"Well you'll be getting a bill anyway but if I read the meter it will at least be accurate instead of estimated".
"But I don't want a bill, you're not coming in."
"OK, I'll write it down as refused access then?" (For those in the know this is a black mark against your name in the eyes of the gas board!)
- Then there was the nutter... The door opened on a VERY hot summers day and there stood this lady about 60yrs old in a heavy winter coat and tea cosy hat.
"Are you here to take me to the hospital?"
"No, just to read the gas meter".
"Oh, because I think I'm supposed to go to the hospital".
My notes told me the meter was just inside the hallway and behind her I could see the small cupboard it was in. After gaining entry I then became alarmed by the fact that EVERY FUCKING INCH of wall was written on in various pens. The outpoured mental rantings of someone clearly not right in the noggin. It was like something from a hollywood film, total nut job.
After reading the meter I left sharpish, only to be pursued down the road as she called out "but we need to go to the hospital! The doctor will be cross if I'm not there!"
- Another favourite was I rang the doorbell and almost instantly the door opened to a man sitting on a small footstool in the hallway in a string vest and shorts literally polishing a shotgun.
From upstairs a lady called out "Who's at the fucking door!?"
"Some wanker from the council!" he replies, all the time staring right at me.
"No," I stammered back at him, "I'm the wanker from the gas board".
Luckily he found this amusing and let me in to read the meter... "Nice gun" I commented as I left.
"Yeah, I'm waiting for the man from the council." he replied.
(Fri 5th Sep 2008, 10:44, More)
» Intense Friendships
I'm a computer programmer...
... intense friendship is anyone who talks to me. I'm good friends with the 60year old cleaning lady who empties my bin. She needs someone to talk to as well.
(Fri 28th Jul 2006, 15:10, More)
I'm a computer programmer...
... intense friendship is anyone who talks to me. I'm good friends with the 60year old cleaning lady who empties my bin. She needs someone to talk to as well.
(Fri 28th Jul 2006, 15:10, More)
» Break-up Stories
Starting over - fail
In the smoldering ashes of a marriage breakup, the nasty bitterness of which I shall not drag out again, I decided to get back out there and try to meet someone new.
So like many I gave online dating a try.
There wasn't a great deal of choice back then and match dot com was by far the biggest, might still be. So I dutifully filled out page after page to create a profile, uploaded pictures and then submitted my payment details.
I almost held my breath with excitement as I clicked the button to find my matches.... Waiting for the pictures to load the first match was 100%, could there really be my perfect partner out there and living in the same small town as me!?
No, that genius website had decided my perfect match was my ex-wife. I looked a bit further and decided I probably wasn't ready to get back on the dating scene after all...
They also don't do refunds.
(Thu 12th Sep 2013, 13:56, More)
Starting over - fail
In the smoldering ashes of a marriage breakup, the nasty bitterness of which I shall not drag out again, I decided to get back out there and try to meet someone new.
So like many I gave online dating a try.
There wasn't a great deal of choice back then and match dot com was by far the biggest, might still be. So I dutifully filled out page after page to create a profile, uploaded pictures and then submitted my payment details.
I almost held my breath with excitement as I clicked the button to find my matches.... Waiting for the pictures to load the first match was 100%, could there really be my perfect partner out there and living in the same small town as me!?
No, that genius website had decided my perfect match was my ex-wife. I looked a bit further and decided I probably wasn't ready to get back on the dating scene after all...
They also don't do refunds.
(Thu 12th Sep 2013, 13:56, More)