This Way Hombre's in 2014: The Year That Was

I’m gonna design weapons of mass-destruction with Queso’s claws for the blueprint! They may not be super powers per say but they’re certainly super powered! An hour later…oh hell, still hurting.

You can tell from a distance I’m not a native Spanaird.
No beard.
Ah si.

Today’s been pretty non-descript. Ventured into Sol with an urge for shoes and socks.
Should the shop assistant find it quite so funny when I ask for 47s?
But my big-ass, clown-feet found a new home thanks to the lovely chica in one store who told me to pop back in 10 whilst she ran to the other shop for my size.
Perfecto.

That was rather good. What wasn’t? Traveling the escalators to each floor and failing to ID the men’s department. Only on reaching the top of the mall (the 9th floor no less) did I realise that un hombre was in the basement!

Not much to report but I’ll report back anyway. I’m in professional limbo as I wait for the official confirmation to my Madrid extension till April. Then Madmax (the guy who runs the IT side of the Madrid office) sat me down Friday gone to offer me the Manager position and 45,000 euros. I’m struggling to get my mind around taking a pay-cut for a higher position. But when you factor in the cost of living in Spain compared to the UK? Well it’s not too shabby, though hardly obese.

The 1st part of the transition finished this month. That’s one milestone accomplished. So damn tired and really rather exhausted I make it to the Friday’s with a dose of Happy Mondays. And of course, with so much Doom in my step I can’t help but bop to the beat. The fizz went flat when I started listening to recorded calls the desk have taken. Fuuuuuuck. Of my team of 14 I’ve language concerns around 3 of them, and customer service concerns with one of the 3, and an extra guy to boot. I literally cringed hearing some of the conversations.

I’m here talking to myself, and you of course, and Queso. With my freshly shaven, face, head, and nuts, I’m a lazy invigoration waiting for my hash.

I guess I’ll mention going out for dinner Thursday night. 9 of us went out to wish Ed all the best as he was going back to London. He’d been here for a month helping to train. As I’ve yet to master pizza etiquette I went with a far more respectable calabresa which I washed down with a glass of roja and a couple of cerversa. The whole bill came to 160 euros, it was nice to tell the guys to keep their wallet in their pants as, ‘I’ve got this. Wanted to say a big thanks to Ed for all his efforts this month, and to you guys too who’ve completed the 3 month transition and are now the UK Service Desk.’
I think it went down well? I presume so as Too Kind mentioned the guys told her whilst we engaged in our morning banter the next day.

I watched The Interview. There’s nothing worse than a comedy that isn’t funny.
Of course there are many things actually worse (catching the fruit in the shutters, stubbing ones toe, piles) but none of those predicaments actually prevent laughter unlike a group of actors and actresses masturbating their own egos.

This day could be any other. So I’ll hold my finger on fast forward to cut out the commercial breaks.
Which leads rather full-circle back to scratching.