Call Centres, and What They Drive You To

I s'pose this'd be my first blog entry then. And I s'pose hello's always a good place to start. I'm Jim Hutcheon, I'm a 21 year-old currently kicking up a stink as best I can in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and I have once again been ensnared by the slimy tedrils of call centre work.
Apparently the Northern Irish accent is one which the Enlgish, used of course as they are to being spoken to all day in that mangled, braying quack in which their compatriots communicate, will readily trust, and apparently buy things from, the Irish. I don't understand this. Surely if the world relates one thing to the Irish race, it's drunkenly trying to flog shoddy merchandise or labour? Who among you can say truthfully, that when someone says the word 'Irish', you don't immediately form a mental image of a red-haired, profoundly bladdered man, wearing a grubby overcoat with a pig under his arm? I know I do. But apparently there are enough people willing to trust a race who've spent the last century or two scamming our colonisers and the richer peoples of the world to warrant a burgeoning trade in outsourced call centres. It's so easy to get a job in one of these establishments, where one can do anything from broadband tech support to selling legal books that I, a self-confessed malingering bastard, have never had to actually try and get a job. I swanned into the interview for this one half-cut, and now sell holidays to the general population. No-one seems to have a problem with this.
There is, of course, a downside. The downside to this particular job, aside from having to listen to the English nyam at me all day, is that I have a little too much time on my hands. And being as the good people who run this joint don't let you read- heaven forfend - anything but The Sun's website, I might as well keep my hands occupied and tap some scribblings into a computer. This may even become a regular occurence if I could be arsed. You have been warned.
Fuckit, a manager approaches. Time to look busy. Although not too busy. That's how they know you're not working.

Anyways, all the best

-Jim