Unimpressed

Usually when I get to know new people I would like to learn a few things about them. Like their name, what are they studying, and so forth and so and. Not least I want to learn where they are from! So when I meet bright people that answer back: 'Oh, I am from the States!' and nothing else, I am left seriously unimpressed with their intelligence. That you are from the 'States' is quite obvious by the very American accent you have, it will give you away every time you open your mouth!!! But which freaking one are you from, there are 50 States and I am not going to just randomly decide which one you are from. If I would I would either choose Texas or Florida, neither which are a compliment. When I am asked where I am from I usually don't respond 'Europe!'. Why not be really clear and just answer; 'I am from the P-L-A-N-E-T EARTH!' and speak real slow in case my alien intelligence is slow to catch up.

Back and ready for action

I learned today that it can be tricky to mail letters! Only just arrived yesterday I hurried into city centre to pick up a few things I was going to mail home directly. When I had the things intended for the mail ready I entered the Post Office as one does when they want to send a letter. I made my way over to the envelopes but before I even got half way across the floor I was stopped by this rather determined woman. I swear she must have worked at airport security at some point in time, she was that direct. Basically asked me what I was doing in here, I was rather flabbergasted over such a welcome. Naturally I replied that I wanted to purchase an envelope. 'To be mailed today?' she asked in the same direct no-nonsense kind of voice. I nodded and she then started to direct me through the process. 'Pick up your envelope and pay for it ...(like I had any other intention)... then bring the letter back here once you have done that and I will tell you what to do next!' Sheesh, the only thing I felt at this point was the enormous pressure of picking the right envelope and paying for it right away. I swear she was likely to pull up a gun if I didn't behave accordingly. Once I had picked up what I hoped was a large enough envelop I paid for it and proceeded to preparing the wee package for delivery. So naturally not wanting to face the mad woman at gunpoint I dutifully turned back to her to find out 'where I should go next'! Thankfully the woman had disappeared probably being carted away to a loony bin when I had finished with the package but this rather nice fellow directed my to the newest gizmo in the store.
I finally started to understand why there was a crossing-guard stationed in the middle of the floor of the Post Office. They wanted to show off their new gadget. Like so many other businesses in Britain they are taking away consumer choice, customer - service provider interaction, and jobs!!! Now everything is done by kiosks. When you purchase cinema tickets, pay for your groceries, checking into flights and now when you post an item you are faced with talking to a computer. Because this was a new gadget they had a person there situated to help with working this wonderful machine. I must say I am not sold on this idea. Even before the age of know-it-all computers people were struggling with putting enough postage on the package or even basic information, like an address, on what they were posting. People vs people interaction often caught those mistakes before they came to a dead end. Having been at all the turns and ends a letter can go through in the receiving, sending and delivery service this is not winning any prizes in my book. That they have to have a person to assist in the workings of this gadget prooves that they will never get rid of the human element of customer service, so why bother with expensive machiner as well as personal, when the human can to the work of both. It also prooves that obviouslay a machine can never be so idiot-proof that you won't need more detailed instructions than the ones that 'pop-up' on the screen!
In the end I managed to maile my package but it took much longer than if I had been allowed to talk to a human Post Office person instead of a kiosk, luckily it wasn't that expensive that I had to pay with a card .... then it would have gotten complicated, because you can't yet!!!

Gone with the Wind

Hair dryers are the bane of my existence and soon to be developing pneumonia. They really should ban these blasted things from student halls, or at least my block. There are at least two persons here that just can not be trusted with these blasting windbags. I have lived here for four years, and never before have I had to be outside soooo often in just two months because someone can not grasp the concept of HEAT detectors in the room. Just now I was driven from my very comfortable and warm room out into the freezing cold because someone couldn't control her hair dryer and this is the same girl who forced me out last time. Both of these times, a girl was caught unaware in her shower and they had to run outside wet. The one tonight was only covered in a towel with a tiny jacket covering her wet hair. I don't think she will be thinking to warmly towards this girl in the near future. Maybe we should put a timetable for her to where we will know in advance that she is going to be fiddling with a machine she has no control over and just stay outside to save ourselves the trouble of having to hurry outside just to find out it was all for nothing.

Excuses, excuses

Yes, I am sooooo using the internet as an excuse of not studying. Especially right now. I am reading through Economic Archeology and if anyone else thinks this is an oxymoron phrase, welcome to the club. This is more boring and painful than going to the dentist. I have not even completed my first chapter in the exciting book of Dark Age Economics, that I have come to the conclusion that archeologist are pompus assess, too full of themselves to even want to consider other fields of studies to help their research unless it is as boring and stuffy and them and that is ... whohey, you got it economics. These two groups work well together to try to fit everything in neat little boxes of organisation and administrative bodies. The statements of you need at least this many people in a community of planned streets and A MINT (here in the context of coins or coinage) along with religious center and judicial system to make an acceptable town to be worthy of their scrutiny. I am quite tempted to use a lot of adjectives describing the text and the author and other scholars mentioned in the text in very explicit and unflattering manner but because I like to keep things from being x-rated I will refrain from it. Just know that I am pissed off and in no way wanting to continue reading. But this will hopefully be my only day reading about economic archeology because I am going away for the weekend and am not going to be spending much time on my studies except, I optimistically state, on the flight to and from my place of destination!
There the rant of October finished and now I have to get back to work.

I should start charging taxi drivers

Today I became convinced I should start charging taxi drivers for my service. Usually, when a person takes a taxi, they expect to be transported to whatever destination they desire and I am fine with that. But, here a wee situation presents itself. Quite often when using the service taxis provide the drivers strike up a chat with the passenger, namely me. Now, I have not been back in Glasgow a week, but already I have held 3 presentatoins and open discussion on Celtic history and civilization. In a way it is good, because it keeps the material fresh for me, but it does become a wee bit annoying when you are battling "weekend historians" or taxidrivers who "I was always very intrested in history" start filling you in of all the historical or scientific knowledge they "don't" have just because they read a book. Well hooray, they read a book, and all of a sudden they are experts. They talk about stuff that makes no sense and I don't even know how such rubbish ever got into print what some of them are spouting at me ... and I have to pay them for taking me places. A lecturer at the University of Glasgow gets about 40.000 pounds a year, I wonder if I couldn't charge them about 10 pounds for my servic of correcting them.