Dear Sir/Madam:

I have now moved on to another department in the HQ as of last Wednesday. it was all very hush hush, last minute and sorta dodgy and I can't believe a lot of people do not feel the same way about this arrangement. I am kinda dreading the day that they turn around and say to us "please collect your belongings and make your way to the front door where we will proceed to kick you hard out on to the turf and don't bother to come back. ever." Ilyas has been reassuring me that this cannot happen so easily as we are now one year into our employment, there are new procedures to be followed (like giving us a month's notice in advance and then sorting out the severance/holiday/maintenance/grievance pay as well) and like all the other big companies, the HQ isn't really prepared to do so. yet.

our contracts will take another month to be drafted and John Hancock'ed, that's why I'm jumpy. it also means we're off the phones (three cheers for me please!!): no sales targets, no AHT to adhere to, best of all--no grating, complaining, insolent voices coming thru an earpiece non-stop for the best part of the day anymore.

boohooo tho as it also means that we're leaving Mr. Nice Guy behind. he's now found peace with the people dealing with ETMs, which is more his speciality. but as we leave him, we also leave fat b*st*rd behind as well (which is obviously a hoooraayyyy waiting to happen), who doesn't seem quite happy as he now has a team of only 3: 2 processing debit card payments and one who is so far up his ass fat b*st*rd can't see him anyway. so he drops by now and again(and again and again and again) to check on us who've moved to pastures anew.

in this new department I have decided to kill myself two days of the week by coming in as early as 9am and leaving at 5pm with squares for eyes, a cricked neck and dodgy wrists. nothing short of a horror movie. I tried wearing glasses instead of contacts on Thursday so that I wouldn't go home with dry square eyes like I did on Wednesday--only that I left with partial vision and had to squint to see instead. I need new glasses, pronto. curse that day I tried bigbro's glasses in 1993!!

we are now responsible for spewing lightly disguised sarcasm in words no less than a hundred to disgruntled customers who feel that shouting and swearing down the phone is not enough. our target is 45 letters per hour. I have managed to rustle up a good score for my first week, on average, I did 40/hour. only I know if I want to come out alive and still resembling a human being from this place, it will have to go down to maybe 30/hour. I got my stats by not taking a break so often like the others in the team, and it is true: Ruby only got 22/hour, George a.k.a Mr I-Love-My-Wife-So-Much-It's-A-Wonder-I-Don't-Make-Myself-Sick managed 14. bleehhhhh.

and the letters that come in are so funny and so bizarre and so surreal at times, you just can't help it but laugh and point and share it with your team. just one example (partly coz I'm a bit tired now and I think I've gone on for too long), are the numerous letters we get from people writing in to say there's a gas leak, I'm quite sure there is, and it's an emergency, of that I am sure, and I think I'm getting quite dizzy and breathless as I write this letter, even Rover is not quite his normal rowdy self, and would someone please come to inspect my leak as soon as they bloody get this? sent in using second class stamps, which takes at least 4days to get to their destination.

surely by the time we get the letter we would know for a fact if there was indeed a leak by watching the news.

and they sign off in true Brit fashion: awaiting your reply with fervent obligation,

Mr James Smith

ever so polite even in times of despair and light-headedness.