Mr. XY's Anchor Remedy

Unless you really know the place, and even if you do, setting off in search of a few meters of unspoiled seashore on the southern part Costa Brave, is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Over 50 years of wanton mass destruction (referred to here as construction) have left little more than Jerry built apartment blocks and vast car parks, adjoining otherwise beautiful beaches. Soviet ugliness at it's bleakest. And there seems to be no stopping it's vile, cancerous spread. What can one expect from a tourist industry based on cheap booze and fags? Thankfully my part is in the north. The abrupt rocky nature of parts of the southern coastline means certain coves are all but inaccessible, though not from the sea. Some of them are miniature fjords of crystal-clear water, which on reaching land, sensually lick the hem of sandy beaches no bigger than a bullfighter's cape. It takes Mr XY a good 40 minutes' walk to make his way down to such an idyllic spot, whose name and whereabouts he prefers to keep to himself. He goes in for his 1st dip at about 9.30 in the morning. The water is still chilly but incredibly invigorating, and nothing beats drying off in the sun before it gets too hot. For years his summer routine. On this particular day, he was lying on the sand, when a mechanical din suddenly drown out the sibilant silence of tiny waves over shingle. Manned by a young couple posing for Dolce & Gabbana advert, a motor boat was chugging it's way toward him. Without switching off the confounded engine, they shouted and pranced about for quite some time and then threw out the anchor. The stern came to rest not a meter from the shore. A nasty looking motor launch appeared. The mannequins aboard both vessels used their mobile phones to engage in an exchange of shrill greetings. They ignored Mr XY completely. So when XY went in again for a swim, he dived down and tied the 2 anchors together in a devilishly complicated knot. It's anybody's guess what happened later. Tags:beach,motorlaunch,anchor

Mouse Balls & The Inspector

I don't know how they wrote this with a straight face. This was a real memo sent out by IBM to its employees in all seriousness. It went to all field engineers about a computer peripheral problem. The author of this memo was quite genuine. The engineers rolled on the floor! Especially note the last couple of sentences.

'If a mouse fails to operate or should it perform erratically, it may need a ball replacement. Mouse balls are now available as FRU (Field Replacement Units). Because of the delicate nature of this procedure, a replacement of mouse balls should only be attempted by properly trained personnel.

Before proceeding, determine the type of mouse balls by examining the underside of the mouse. Domestic balls will be larger and harder than foreign balls.

Ball removal procedures differ depending upon the manufacturer of the mouse. Foreign balls can be replaced using the pop off method. Domestic balls are replaced by using the twist off method.

Mouse balls are not usually static sensitive. However, excessive handling can result in sudden discharge.

Upon completion of ball replacement, the mouse may be used immediately. It is recommended that each person have a pair of spare balls for maintaining optimum customer satisfaction.

Any customer missing his balls should contact the local personnel in charge of removing and replacing these necessary items.

Please keep in mind that a customer without properly working balls is an unhappy customer.

Taqs:MouseBalls,Inspector,Customer

All About A Cheque Book

I went to my bank to get a new cheque book this morning. The new cashier who must have just taken up the post and didn't know me at all, gave me a weird look that says " Where have you been hiding all this time? Chequebook?". Apparently, while I was not looking, chequebooks are not issued any more, at least, as I was told then, only to companies, not to any individuals. It may seem behind the times, but occasionally I do need to use a couple of cheques for certain payments, for instance, the guy who came to my house recently to put up a new heater for me, the charge of his time and labour came up to more cash than I had at the time, and he had no machine on him to accept a credit card payment. I never did find out exactly why the bank won't give me a chequebook, but a story came to mind of somebody else's account on the same subject. For years and years, whenever Carlos (now Carles or Charlie) needed a new chequebook, he would simply cross the street, open the doors of his bank, walk up to the cashier and tell him so. The cashier, known then as Manolo, later Manuel, would take out a machine the size of a toaster with a row of keys along one side, and placed it on the counter. By rotating a series of cogs with his thumb, Manolo would soon have Charlie's account number lined up. He would then place a virgin chequebook in a groove at the top of the monotype. After that he would press the keys, pull down a lever and "Voila". Manolo would hand Charlie his new chequebook. The whole operation took 2 minutes. All good things come to an end, as they say. One day, it must have been in the 80's, when Charlie crossed his street to the bank and asked Manolo for a new chequebook, he was told to leave the old one and come back in 2 days. Two days? But he needed it immediately! Manolo, an ecstatic converted to the religion of modern technology, explained that that dirty old contraption he used to keep under the counter had been replaced by a gleaming computer whose brain - now get this - was in Santander!!! Nothing short of a miracle. The above incident took place on a Thursday, the day he applied for it, nor the weekend counted, so it won't be at his disposal till the following Tuesday! As far as Charlie is concerned, the world has never been the same since. He was often left high and dry because there was a black-out or the computer went on the blink. A few years later, an enthusiastic Manuel (Manolo too belonged to the past) told him all about automatic cash dispensers and gave him his code and showed him how they worked. Not long after, Manuel was forced to accept retirement. Since then, he spends his days feeding fruit-machines with his meagre pension.    Tag:chequebook,contraption