Tuesday, 18 August 2015
Disconnected
By michaelgcasey
Disconnected ©
By Michael Casey
There are many kinds of disconnected, from faith, from hope, from love, from reality, from pain. Today I feel nearly all of them, my chest and arthritis pain have decided to come out to play, I’m breathless with pain and it’s hard to think straight. Relax, I’m not going to bore you with all this, the disconnected I’m going to talk about is far more important, disconnected from the Internet.
I can hear you all scream, or your children scream at least, how can kids live without their internet. How can I live without the internet. For kids it’s everything, anybody with kids will tell you that, I have two daughters so I know all about it. Phones are in fact little tiny computers, this connects your daughters with the world, their world and not the real world. Their world is Tumblrand Instagram and Postit or is it Pinterest, anyway it’s a load of stuff most people have never ever heard of. Some 20 something girl on UTube who has millions of followers, which makes her millions, she is pretty vacuous but her bank manager loves her and holds the door to her Bentley open when she comes by.
Homework is forgotten and vids just have to be watched because they are so good. My girls are great students so far but other girls are probably much more addicted to the joys of Mandy or Brandy or Candy explaining everything to her millions of fans. I hope I don’t sound envious, I did make a little video and put it on my writer’s page on Amazon. I have an audio site, http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com but I don’t have millions of fans yet. I’m more Radio than anything else, so how could I possible compete. I’m also a writer http://www.michaelgcasey,wordpress.com so words are my medium. Perhaps I should make loads of small videos, but that would need the internet to load them to.
Only I don’t have any internet, I’m internet free, I’m back in the Stone Age, well today at any rate. I cannot get my desktop to connect to the Internet, my daughters can connect via their phones, my wife can connect on her tablet, but me and the family computer, I’m frozen out. It’s like being barred from the nudist beach because you have the wrong sandals on. You are so eager to frolic and relax and let it all hang out, and to feel the breeze on your, on your, but you just get a message saying cannot connect. I suppose it really is like a form of contraceptive, a kind of wall, a firewall of sorts, I just cannot get on the internet.
The Internet is great for everybody, you can chat and email and read the Daily Telegraph, especially if you can get past the paywall, and there are ways. It’s a bit like voting in the Labour Leadership Election, everybody wants to do it, just to screw up the Labour party, and a few actually believe in this new Messiah. Though for balance some may say voting Tory has already screwed the country for the next 5 years. Perhaps I should mention Liberals, but they are too few to mention. As for the Scot Nats, I think the canny Scots will have the last word, and that will surprise everybody, especially the Scot Nats.
Yes I like reading my DT, though I do look at several papers online, or should I say I normally. Today has been a quiet day, well apart from the pain. It feels like a fridge which is empty, I go to the fridge and it is empty, just like Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. Without my internet, without my daily routine, I’m a bit at a loss. I miss deleting all the emails from companies telling me of their sales, the emails I delete without opening. I miss deleting those mad emails from scammers, as if anybody would leave me 2,000,000 in any currency. As if I’m impressed by Dr, or Barrister in the title. In America you are a Dr for 10USD, these emails are just from fakers in Africa and USSR.
I also get people from search optimise companies, so I thank them for their email and insert a silly photo and return their email with my Elevator Ad. I also get companies in China advertising their wares, so I reply I have a Shanghai wife and I send them my Elevator Ad as well, but all the best with their marketing.
Today none of this to punctuate my day. I went on my daily walk with no internet to fill me, to amuse me, to set me thinking about what I could use as an idea. All I need is a seed and away I go, I can provide my own water, and with the state of my kidneys I’m a frequent waterer. I suppose I could have used this as a day of prayer, but Oh God take this pain away is today’s only prayer. Yesterday was a good day, today is medium to bad day, it’s like the curves on a woman’s body, beautiful but also very dangerous, it can either be pleasure or pain. I could use a male metaphor for balance but if I described my own body you would all heave, so I’ll not mention pain any more in any metaphor.
So I tried loads of things to get my internet back, but no dice, as the wife was making egg fried rice. So I went and had a nap, with Totoro scratching on my bedroom door, she likes sitting in the windows. When I got up, and this involves going from naked to covered up, as Totoro is a Ninja cat and if she scratched my scars I’d be in agony, when I got up I thought I have one last try at getting my internet back.
Still my internet did not work, but I had another idea, I’d write a story called Disconnected, and explain my pain, the pain caused by lack of internet, and this is what you have been reading.
Posted by Michael Casey at 04:40 No comments:
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14/08/2015 A life with printers ©
By Michael Casey
Our Kodak home printer died today, so I’ve left it outside in the street for street burial, this is like sky burial but the scrap guy comes for it, and not an eagle. The Kodak really worked hard, though it was a bit noisy. The amount of pages per ribbon, or should I say cartridge was really good. That’s why I bought it in the first place. I had used it to print all my handouts when I was teaching Esol English.
We upgraded to Windows 10 on launch day, a couple of weeks ago, so I had to play with my Kodak software, to make sure everything was ok. It was, but then the Kodak decided to die. I had tried to explain to my teenage daughter how you problem solve printer problems. Her idea is to replace the ribbons immediately with new ones. This is great if you have lots of money, even though Kodak cartridges are not too expensive. I was trying to teach her what I learnt in computer rooms back in 1978 onwards.
Finally in the end we had to give up the ghost, we could not fix the old Kodak, so it went into the street for sky burial, or street burial. I should add that I call printer cartridges ribbons because in the old day that was what printers used. It was more like a scroll with ink on it.
My first memory was standing in between two barrel printers which had scroll ribbons, I had to try and stack standard continuous special paper. We were printing research forms for contraceptives, our main work was market research into alcohol sales, but we also covered contraceptives. And as people were covering each other and using contraceptives, we did the market research for that too.
I also remember Al saying that Alcopops would not catch on, this was literally when they first appeared on the market. I was scared of Al he was the same build as a troll with matching moustache. In reality he was a very kind man, though I was always scared of him.
I spent years stacking paper in a noisy computer room, we were in the same room as the printers and their dust. Years later we had a separate print room built, we also had self-stacking printers. This was a big big deal, we were very impressed. With all these volumes of paper the morning team in CAD as it was called were more like CID, working out which paper matched which run sheet.
After 21 years with ACNielsen as we had become I went and worked the graveyard shift for city hall in Oldbury, the story was we were built on a former graveyard. I worked till 2.30 and then I went home. I printed the payslips for the council workforce, including my own. The toner was like an artillery shell I seem to remember. It was very old kit that had been bought 2nd hand. The print room was new as big as a school gym.
Let’s say my time there was eventful, I even got married while I was there. I walked down the street at about 3am and got a taxi home every night. So by the time I went to bed it was 4am. Though one good thing did result, we conceived our first daughter, fertility rates must be high in the wee small hours.
My taxi driver died of alcoholism as well, and we both could have died as we were nearly totalled by a huge lorry delivering to the supermarkets in the wee small hours. It’s all very strange in the predawn hours, I should add I have done over 14 years of night shifts.
I was offered a 2nd one year contract, but I decided not to, as my daughter was due and I wanted a normal life, no more night shifts. So I ended up working for a 4 star deluxe business hotel, CPNEC, no printers involved but plenty of carrying. My chest size went up two inches and my neck size went up one inch, and as the hotel food was so good my belly went up 2 inches too. It was the best 3 years of my life.
I did get back to printers when I ended up as a life insurance underwriter non-medical, this involved printing loads of forms and posting them out to potential clients. What diseases do you have, what dangerous sports do you enjoy, if enjoy is the correct word. Which recreational drugs do you use, and so on. I hated this job as I was sat down all day in front of a PC apart from when I printed a very intrusive questionnaire. At the hotel I was walking around all day, maybe 5miles every day, just to get to the train station was 2 miles every day, 1 mile each way.
I promised myself I would leave that job once we came back from our Florida holiday to meet my wife’s uncle, the patriarch of the family. So I came back and left. The job was not for me, it was not for many people as the staff turnover was very high and they had 5 trainers constantly training.
I ended up at a law firm, they were a great company to work for, I was in the print room, back with my printers again. These were industrial size photo copier. Five beasts which were as long as a sideboard. They had hoppers for 1000s of pages of paper, and stackers for thousands more. We never sat down in the print room, we just kind of perched, it could reach 30 degrees once all the printers/copiers were all fired up. Our room, the print room was next door to the law library, it so quiet and us so noisy, so I hid a copy of my comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker in amongst the law books.
The best thing about the print room was the scrap paper, as if the paper got creased in any way it could not be used in the machines so it was recycled. I asked and was allowed to take some scrap paper home, and that is why my daughters are such good artists, because of the kindness of the law firm, and all the scrap paper.
I am a writer so that involves paper too, though I just want people to buy paper, books that have my words on. Nine books on Amazon now. Our cat Totoro like paper too, if you scrunch up paper she comes running because she can play football with the paper. If you scrunch up a banknote she will come running too, a writer’s cat loves paper. I just hope one day I sell my stories, so that the cat can come running to the sound of banknotes.
Posted by Michael Casey at 04:38 No comments:
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Wednesday, 5 August 2015
All Wired Up ©
By Michael Casey
I was all wired up for a day, no nothing to do with 50 Shades of Michael or any other colour, I mean wired up for an ambulatory cardiac monitor. Its 6 months since I had my unplanned triple bypass, and it turns out that it was 4 grafts, so it was an unplanned quadruple. Anyway thanks to City and QE hospitals here in Birmingham. Now what does ambulatory mean you are all asking. I remember 1st year Latin, ambulo, ambulas, ambulat and we all know the word ambulance, so ambulatory means walking.
So you go to the hospital and a nurse shaves your chest, it seems every nurse wants to shave my chest. Then they attach 3 jump leads, they are not jump leads, but they do look like them, they are sensors. You are have a little machine with it, as big as an alarm clock, you put that in your pocket and then you go home. They also give you a piece of paper so you can write a diary of your activities.
I was tempted to write rock climbing, and base jumping, followed by horse riding and marathon running. It would make it more interesting for consultant when he views the results. Michael Casey must be an Olympic athlete he would say. When I worked at CPNEC ten years ago we had an Olympic athlete staying, so every time we had a guest enter the gym I’d say as used by Olympic athletes.
Instead on the diary you write, having a pooh ten mins of training or straining, but that’s Olympic athletes again. You write went to the corner shop, 10 mins. Went to Aldi half an hour.Reading 2 hours, I do read a lot on the computer, Daily Telegraph and a smattering of Daily Mail and the Daily Express, and a look at the Sun and the Mirror, even the Guardian too. If any of these people have a corner on their websites I’d be more than happy to fill it. Though the editors might say I’d be like a cat, leaving mess in the corner. People can be so cruel, until you are popular and then they wish they’d stroked that cat and have it purr for them.
Being all wired up is no problem at all, that is until it’s time to go to bed. I sleep in the nude, ever since I left home many years ago. Pause, take a deep breath and have a stiff drink if the thought offends you. So where do I put the electronic box of tricks, I need something with a pocket and I want keep the wires under control. So the answer is to wear pyjamas in bed. My sister bought me some 6 months ago when I was in hospital, they are nearly worn out in the ar(*** as I toss and turn in my sleep.
My bedroom is like an oven as the way our central heating works the radiator in the room always gets some heat even if you are only heating hot water. Being South Facing adds to the heat, so if you are then wearing pyjamas and you are a nudist like me it all feels like a sauna. In a sauna I’d be naked, but as I’m wearing a cardiac monitor I’m just a pig sweating. A good looking pig, but a pig none the less. Ok, you can decide for yourselves what I look like, metaphor away, be my guest.
So the night passes and I awake every 2 hours. I used to sleep on my belly and then move about like a chicken on a rotisserie, but as I have a 12 inch scar on my belly from my heart operation I cannot sleep in my preferred position. I tend to sleep on my right side, they say sleep on your back but I’ve never been good in that position.
I got up for a drink and I wondered should I write that down in the diary, does your heart beat change when you go downstairs to the fridge and back upstairs again? I didn’t put that down, maybe I should have. I did have a few minor twinges so I put them down. Sometimes I scream in the night but that’s from my scars on my legs where veins were harvested. Or if I’m stupid and brush the sheet again my left chest, then I scream and the neighbours can hear it. Mind you they may think it’s the local Sadomasochism Club. Though sometimes I have had a day of pain, or several days of pain, it’s the chest healing where it was cut in half.
In the morning it’s time to remove the sensors which are stuck to my chest, remember just how sensitive it is. Gingerly I remove them, and then I write down the time I got out of bed and removed them. Now I can have a wash, did I tell you, you cannot wash for 24 hours. So you have a 2 day shower before breakfast and going back to the hospital and handing in the cardiac monitor.
The moral of the story, eat your greens and have a balanced diet. I was walking 20 miles a week before this suddenly can upon me. I am now walking 10 to 15 miles a week. I have given up meat and frozen food since I came out of hospital in January 2015. I live on chicken and salmon and eggs, I have lost maybe 10kilos.I never smoked in my life and was almost teetotal, all our lodgers were alcoholics, hence alcohol never interested me. However you can still get coronary heart disease through other factors.
I have extra time now, so I don’t want to waste it, so if any opportunities come along I will grab them, but being able to see my daughters grow up IS the greatest gift. The gift of life itself.
Posted by Michael Casey at 07:35 No comments:
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Saturday, 1 August 2015
Customer Service for All ©
By Michael Casey
Before I start let me tell you that I speak from experience, as a worker and as a teacher. So I hope you have an open mind, and that you really want to polish your skills to be even better.
If you are like me you watch everything around you, you are a people watcher, as well as a tv watcher or a film watcher. By observing you can learn so much. So what makes you happy when you watch a film, a good actor, a pretty actress, lots of action, or all of these things?
Customer Service, Great Customer Service does make a difference. By watching a Duty Manager in a Hotel you can observe just how polished he is when he handles people, when he communicates with people.
The secret is LISTENING, let the customer TELL YOU WHAT THEY WANT.
Then you can give the customer what they want. If they ask for trousers you don’t tell them about hats. You tell them about trousers.
You never say NO to a customer, you say LET ME FIND OUT, I’ll let you know.
Example1: The customer wants black shoes, BUT you don’t have any.
What do you say?
We don’t have black shoes bye, and you end contact with customer.
NO, what you say is SORRY we don’t have black shoes at the moment, but we do have some nice brown shoes, and various other colours.
WHY do you say this?
Because if you just say NO all the time you’ll never make any Sales.
BY saying SORRY and OFFERING an alternative you MIGHT still make a Sale.
ALWAYS OFFER ALTERNATIVES. ALWAYS BE VERY POLITE AS IF THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND IS ON THE OTHER END OF THE PHONE OR EMAIL.
Why is it important to be POLITE ALWAYS?
Because TODAY everybody can BUY everything from ANYWHERE in the World.
IF you are RUDE then the Customers will vote with their feet, they will SHOP Elsewhere. Also it is a SALES FACT, if your Customer Service is BAD then the Customer will tell TEN (10) People that YOUR COMPANY IS RUBBISH. This will lead to lack of sales and in the end YOUR COMPANY WILL CLOSE and you have no JOB and no MONEY.
IF you offer GREAT CUSTOMER SERVICE then the company will get BIGGER and there will be more jobs and WAGES for the Workers. ALSO the Company will get a bigger Reputation and the Customer will tell FOUR (4) Friends to Shop with your company.
As you can see BAD customer service is advertised times 10.
Good Customer Service is advertised times 4.
That’s why you should NEVER give Bad Customer Service.
Bad news travels faster.
Example 2 A customer wants black shoes and would like something else but has not made up her mind what.
So you say that we have socks that can go with the shoes and you tell the customer what kind of socks we have. By knowing your stock you can HELP the customer buy more items. If we have a SALE of certain other items then you can GENTLY LEAD the shopper towards the SALES items.
We also have trousers and shirts in Toddler size, your toddler can dress just like Prince George in England. Is what you MIGHT say.
You LISTEN to the customer and IF they are interested then you can LEAD them towards more ITEMS.
It is like fishing, you have to be gentle and patience, never FORCE the customer, this way the CUSTOMER will not REGRET what they have bought.
IF you have LISTENED then you have increased the sale from one item to several.
AND THEN THE CUSTOMER might tell all her friends just how great your company is, and they will buy more things from the company.
Example3 Problem Solving
If you have PROBLEM, what do you do?
Ignore it, hope it will go away.
NEVER.
SORRY, I cannot help you at the moment but I will CONSULT with my colleague, I apologise for the inconvenience, I’m very SORRY, I will CONTACT you as soon as I have an Answer.
YOU SHOULD NEVER BE BLUNT, Remember there are 1000s of companies on the Internet why should the Customer waste their time on a RUDE and LAZY person who does not want to BOTHER to HELP the customer.
The fancy way of thinking about it is HOW WOULD YOU WANT TO BE TREATED IF YOU HAD JUST WON £10,000,000 ON THE LOTTERY and it was you who was buying clothes for your child.
WOULD YOU PUT UP WITH A RUDE AND LAZY PERSON WHO WAS CHEWING GUM ON THE PHONE AND YAWNING AS THEY SPOKE TO YOU, OR WAS LISTENING TO LOUD MUSIC AND NOT TO YOU?
You would expect to be treated like an Emperor or the President of your country. So if you expect that then you should treat ALL your customers as if they are the President or the Emperor.
Sweet Words Always
Your favourite singer is pretty and speaks SO NICE, would you listen to her or him if he sounded like a thief and spat in the street all the time. Your tone on the phone and in emails DOES MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
Who would you like to listen to? A rough voice who sounds like a thief or a sweet voice who you’d like to marry.
For FUN you can try closing your eyes and listen as you each try different voices and see which makes you Laugh, or be Afraid, or which is Sweet. By doing this you will realise the IMPRESSION the customer gets of YOU over the phone. A bad voice is more like something from a Horror film. A good voice will be REASSURING and fill the Customer with CONFIDENCE.
Try it for yourself in the office, then you will realise I speak from EXPERIENCE. I can reveal I did win awards for my Customer Service.
For the company we want it to succeed and expand.
How do we do this?
WE listen. We are never Blunt. We are kind in the way we speak or Email.
We treat the Customers as if they are our own Grandmother.
We offer Alternatives, we Politely tell the customer about offers we have and extra items that might compliment what the customer is already buying.
We are never rude and blunt, always remember the customer is paying our wages.
Customer Service means putting the Customer first ALWAYS.
**************
I’ve written this in Janet and John style for somebody who needs a push.
this is me in my CPNEC hotel days
Posted by Michael Casey at 07:04 No comments:
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Wednesday, 29 July 2015
Windows Eight Doors Two ©
By Michael Casey
Today is 29th July 2015 its Windows 10 rollout day, so Bill Gates is sat at his PC answering emails and cut and pasting the new operation system into each letter, so that when he replies the world population gets their free copy. His fingers will be bleeding by the time he finishes, that’ll teach him to be not so popular. He could have employed a few of his friends to answer all those emails and cut and paste Windows 10 into the emails and hit RETURN.
He could have had a Windows 10 party, like a Sleepover, but for geeks. He could have invited his Google friends over too, they’d tell him just how trendy he was, though the idea of Bill Gates being trendy is a bit beyond belief. I’d spend a bit more on clothes if I was him, and get some that are a better fit, not the bargain bin from Macys. Though I am like a pot calling the kettle black. However since I’ve lost all this weight after my operation and giving up meat and frozen food I can now fit into clothes at the back of the wardrobe, it was like Narnia back there.
It is exciting I suppose getting Windows 10, and for FREE, it says worth 100quid on the icon, or 99 something, which is 100quid in real money. Perhaps I could pay in Bitcoins, if I had any, though silver paper covered chocolate may have higher value. I have got up early to switch my computer on and be ready, like a kid waiting to go on holiday. A computer is a very important thing, I use mine to write on, as my penmanship as Americans call it, is so bad being able to type is a godsend. I’m hoping the music function is great, I have background music constantly.
I’ve got Crowded House playing, I’ve got 4 hours of their music, so they will be there to welcome Windows 10 to our house. Totoro our cat is dancing around the house, chasing some scrunched up paper. A writer’s cat adores paper and comes running if you squeeze paper, sounds daft but it’s true, my cat just loves paper, if I scrunch up the till receipt when I come home from Aldi then Totoro loves to play football with it.
Windows Eight Doors Two, that’s the number of windows in our house, I just spotted another one so I’ve just changed the title of this piece, I had forgotten the window above the front door, and as for doors we have two. I was going to write in one direction and I ended up going in another. That’s the joy of writing you can start one way and then take it another way, like being pollen blown by the wind, or the windmills of your mind, which is my favourite song.
So Bill I hope your day wasn’t too tiring, a couple of pints of Stella Artois to wash down your chicken dinner should sort you out. Just get Melissa to walk all over your back, but make sure she takes down the washing from the indoor washing line and scrubs down the kitchen table first. Otherwise while she’s walking on your back while holding onto the washing line she’ll bring down your Y fronts on top of you. And if she if she hasn’t wiped the kitchen table first then with all the extra virgin olive oil on the table you’ll just slip off the table.
All the best with “God’s work” Bill, my nine books may amuse you and your kindle, if not you can use them as kindling, but don’t get too close to the fire or you’ll burn with all the extra virgin olive oil on you, just like a modern day witch.
http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com
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9 books on Amazon
Posted by Michael Casey at 03:22 No comments:
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Saturday, 25 July 2015
A Typical Saturday in Our House ©
By Michael Casey
Today 25th July 2015 is a Saturday, its Totoro our cat’s 4 month Birthday. My chest pain is reminding me that heart bypass has a price, to make me well, to stave off a potential fatal heart attack I had the Triple Heart Bypass 6 months ago now. Only I was told a few days ago that actually they did 4 grafts. I felt perfectly well before the op, I was reading Don Camillo. Now I feel 50% the man I was before the operation, then there is the chest pain. However in the end I’m not pushing up the daisies. I’m telling you all this as it’s hard to concentrate when you are in pain, and sometimes your very breath is taken away. So forgive me if I stumble as I tell the tale.
Watch the cat, or he’ll sneak out, so we shut the back door, so she’ll not sneak out. Our cat has confused gender, we were told she was a he when we got him, but he was not a him, but a she. If you find and count the nipples under the fur you have the final proof, Totoro is a girl.
Who wants tea, I ask like a dirty spoon chef, no reply so I ask again, nobody answers me, none of my 4 girls. Then the cat sneaks up and rubs himself, sorry herself against me, this both frightens and alarms me. I have scars up both of my legs where the surgeon harvested veins for my heart bypass. They are still very tender even after 6 months.
My left chest is still extremely tender too, if I brush the sheet against it while in bed then I scream. Getting up in the night means getting out of my bed naked, then getting dressed in pyjamas to avoid a Ninja Cat assault when I go downstairs. Totoro has discovered the fridge, she jumps on top of it so that she has high ground, 6 feet, from where she can pounce on anything that comes downstairs in the night.
But now it is morning and I’ve made my own breakfast, I am in fact chewing the 1st piece of my toast as I pop my 7 morning pills. You have to have them with food so my pharmacist told me, it’s a morning ritual now, a bag full of pills. My wife chirps up, can you give Eve her breakfast, she wants French Toast. Yes Daddy, you make it better than mum. And what are you doing? I ask. I’m reading the Bible is her reply, and so she is a big green covered on, printed in Mandarin. Converts will be the death of us.
So I get my daughter to get 2 eggs from the fridge, the cat having vacated her high vantage point. Then while she gets a bowl to mix the Polish eggs in I wolf down the last of my toast which has a covering of garlic and herbs mixed in the reduced fat cheese spread. The Polish eggs are like the Maltese eggs, the yolk is very bright yellow, not anaemic like some supermarket eggs.
My small daughter is pleased as she can now reach higher into the cupboard, in fact soon the cupboard door will hit her on the head, this is great news as it proves she is finally growing, at 11. Now I have the tools so I can get on with the job. French Toast for one, crack and whisk the egg in the bowl, add a splash of milk and a dab of butter. Then just stir.
Being a Shanghai Birmingham family once the bread is soaked in the egg I put it into the wok for cooking. We only had wholemeal bread in the house, so it was a new experience of French Toast a la wholemeal. Luckily my small daughter liked it, otherwise she would have been lumping it.
Twenty different conversations going on at the same time, the girls are off singing at a wedding later on, so a few lines of this hymn and that hymn. I’m just happy that my small daughter is getting taller, the plan is for my wife to be the midget of the family, my small daughter just has to out-grow her.
I think they sound worse than seagulls, another protected species, so I take refuge in the Italian barbers. I decided to give the Russian one a miss and go back to the Italian. I had tried the Polish barber before as well, I even had the mad witch Shanghai wife cut my hair a few times too. If only I could be Rapunzel, and not have to cut my fast growing but fine hair, which is everso everso silver.
The Italian was busy with a customer so I had to wait my turn, it was only 10.30am. It’s always interesting to listen in to conversations, you are sharing, or even stealing part of somebody else’s life. The Conversation Thief could be a future book title of mine, while I have that thought in my mind The Book Thief, the book, is the greatest book I have ever read, I would just love to have a pint of Stella Artois with the author.
So the customer was talking about Sky packages and how he nagged them and got a few deals out of it. His gripe was that long serving customers did not get the new deals. Which reminds me, Sky I’ve had you for 16 years plus now. It was the fact that my satellite had Phoenix Chinese tv which encouraged a young girl to come to my house.
So I should “blame” Sky for my wife and 2 bilingual daughters. Anyway Sky how about giving me, our house a free package of Sky. I’ll even write for Sky too, though Rupert will have to pay me for my words.www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to HEAR 50 examples.
But back to the barber, a half bald guy had his hair washed and cut before it was my turn. I told the Italian to shear me like a sheep, it’s the quickest way. He was very quiet at first then I told him my tale. He may not have seen me for a year. It turned out that his mother had died back home in Italy.
So I offered sympathy and suggested that he talk to her photo on Sundays, which was the normal time he phoned her back home in Italy. She was 98, but as he said , your mama is your mama, even if she was a million years old. He showed me the photo of his mama on his mobile phone. This was a touching moment for him, and me too. This week a family friend a contemporary of my dad has just died, aged 90. The older generation, the war generation, the better generation, is dying out.
I came home shorn of my hair, looking years younger, apart from the fact that I needed a shave. So I had a shave and trimmed my eyebrows, we have a scissors with teeth in the bathroom. It’s a very dangerous thing, but I survived.
Aldi is next on my list, I have to shop everyday as I cannot carry tons of stuff anymore. It’s also a way of getting my exercise, a trip up the road and see if I can raise a laugh from the staff on the tills. Aldi staff really really work hard, that’s why they have “high” rates of pay. I asked the guy on the till was the manager slumming it by working the till next to him.
Then I get out my conversation starter purse, yes purse. A GorJuss purse, with a girl riding a horse printed on it. My daughter gave me it when my wallet sprung a leak. I always say it’s my daughter’s purse but my money. I did have my wife’s purse, then I said it’s my wife’s purse but it’s my money. Before that for years I had a plastic 35mm film canister, see how I have progressed, and digital cameras have taken over.
The guy on the till is smiling, so my mission is complete, so I balance out the weight of my shopping and prance home just like the horse on my purse. My dad, a blacksmith and a steel worker had a purse too, made from tick material, so I suppose it’s a family tradition.
I get home and cat jumps down from the fridge giving me a fright, if she ever gets inside the fridge it will be her having the fright. Then it’s the madness of getting ready for the Wedding, and reminding mum they need a lift to the church, its 2 miles away.
They drive off and the morning madness is over, just me and Totoro the cat home alone. Totoro decides to go and have a sleep in her basket, I feel tired too now, so I have a rest. Totoro purring in her sleep and me talking in mine. If only Sky gave me a free package and Rupert used my 9 books over 2901 pages, him paying me, now that’s something to sleep on.
me and my clarks shoes
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Friday, 24 July 2015
Here’s my Elevator Ad as they call them in USA, I hope it makes you laugh.
THIS IS MY ELEVATOR AD
Hello , how about a Verbal Cartoon for Radio and all other media
I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the blankets and listen when we should have been fast asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and improved my intellect.
Today after 20 years of radio and 25 years of writing, 45 years in total I think I’m a good writer, and thank God so do others. Yes I’m 55 now, in my head I’m 20, though my wife would say 12.
I met my Shanghai wife in the old people’s home, she was cleaning my dad’s room. I was positively vetted by a Chinese Ballerina from the Birmingham Royal Ballet, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters. I am the token male and English speaker in the family.
Now here’s a few samples, what I’d like to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained 19,208 views on Funny or Die for a sample
1st chapter of Tears for a Butcher which will be my 8th book. Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts 300 and Not OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 530+ shorts, enough for over a year. I have recorded 207 of them so far, 11 hours plus of audio. I have nearly 150,000 views on Google+ as well
I have started recording all my Shorts and have put 50+ of them onwww.michaelgcasey.typepad.com I have a new mike now too, so listen in reverse order.
My 7 books are on Amazon Kindle
http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
and www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com is my site.
Here’s the samples for radio or print.
LinkedIn Profile and CV ©
By
Michael Casey
We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn, we get to know people and make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about connections and maybe business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile, my LinkedIn profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are these Profiles?
I am a born leader.
Means he was the firstborn boy in a family of 11 girls.
I created the supply chain structure.
Means he decided to use a clipboard and notepad instead of just his memory.
I optimised the sales among target audiences.
He chatted up all the girls, he was kind to seniors and went to church.
I was inventive and creative in gaining new sales.
Means he designed a flyer and went street to street delivering them.
I was never afraid of going the extra mile for the business.
Means there was a street gang chasing him after he was at the bank
I am great at communicating the business message.
He just would not shut up, so the boss got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.
I always try and improve myself.
Means he has no friends so he reads a lot.
I created the new scheme to optimise the business cash flow.
Means he took the store’s cash and put the money on a horse.
I am now looking for new opportunities to excel
Means he got fired, cops not called as the owner married to his sister
I created a great new idea for centralising purchasing delivery.
Means he was a guard for the money delivery company, crash helmet and visor.
I created my own start-up company
Means he stole the money from the cash delivery company and started his own company.
I am now on a learning sabbatical before resuming my career
Means he is in jail, working in the library.
So when you read those LinkedIn profiles or reading a CV or resume think what do they really mean. Check the photos out too, the reality can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20 years old, and they are. Dig deeper.
Me, I google and check people out, as far as you can on Google. Google me(michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for yourself. I am on a sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have plenty of books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes and makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of you laugh, as I Google everybody.
Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let widows’ sighs be my conscience
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be always remembered in your prayers
The Dead and The Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old, my father said not
to worry as the dead are the same as the living, only the laughter
has left them, the sparkle has gone from their eyes, the worry has
been lifted from their shoulders, and their voice has vanished to
eternity.
In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the
stars, the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and
the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter.
I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living,
though I find the deceased are always more polite. My father also
had a few words to say about the living.
He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet
they think their existence is everything, that they know everything
because they experience many things with their senses.
What the living don’t acknowledge is that their time is short and
when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without
them, without their strong, without their weak, without their
beautiful or even ugly temporary form, to where I cannot say, only
that it is a better place.
Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin, the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
Sleepover©
By
Michael Casey
Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids invading your house, and driving you out of your minds. Well not always, but it is very distracting. You can’t remember what you were doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the 2nd time I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the story died or rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting something different.
Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of invade it for a night. You do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my room. Not because you have anything worth stealing, but they are stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have daughters in your house.
Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates everywhere, its worse than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up the stairs, open all the windows fully, what about your room, dad? Especially mine.
Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their friends to help them open the window. They see the Teddy Bear that you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader laughs. She also sees the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.
Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t eat this or she doesn’t eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is horrified, so you relent and flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the chips. So a compromise is achieved.
You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to build underground stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see Rooney when they arrive back chip laden. Her friend just loves the ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please watch that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy murderer even for suggesting it.
So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv, while you retreat to watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never tell you about this at parenting classes, just how to change nappies. Let’s hope William and Kate are told.
After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what were you doing in their room on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits is switched on their dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the big screen.
Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in your house, including the cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave. Only your last razor has been used to save somebody’s legs.
So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you sleep soundly. Until 3am, when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo, she’s having a nightmare, it must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half waking up and forgetting where she was.
So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm everybody down, and answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour from neighbourhood watch has rung them. So the police come in and have a look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book. As you let the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your teddy bear, its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.
How do Men Shop? ©
By Michael Casey
There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it. But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly exploding the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.
If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the same all in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.
This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker does, without any passion. A man gets home and puts his shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all uniform.
As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into his ear and listens to the football while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.
This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks your view, so you miss seeing why your side was relegated. Normal life in homes up and down the country.
The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.
All Things Bright and Beautiful ©
By Michael Casey
I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.
Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3 stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders 48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be a more accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black and white, blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair. As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.
I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if we have good health, I long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”
Cheese and Chorizo ©
By Michael Casey
The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.
Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got none. They were the ones I really like, its always the ones you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me, I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me where the biscuits were, a new hiding place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.
Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they can cut them down to make a dress or even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER. You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.
Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so it disappears. When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.
So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have daughters. If you want your favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t have daughters. If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.
From A to B from Sat Nav to Blocked Sink ©
By Michael Casey
Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues. In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He’d done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.
Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for good measure.
Bus drivers know their route, so once they’ve done it a while its automatic, they know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange directions.
Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years ago.
So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going further back they say people only knew a six block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant sea man, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai
Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and more ago.
Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down, in English.
She’s busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.
My other idea is a book of shorts, 40 stories with 40 translations
on facing page plus 40 audio of me reading my stories on usb stick.
Perfect to teach English as a 2nd language, via humour.
I was an Esol English teacher and gained
2 Excellents and an Exemplary on my external Assessment
As I have written 550+ stories this would be a series of 10 plus books
So we could have Mandarin/Japanese/Urdu/Spanish/Hindi/Russian etc
This would be a world wide hit, angel investors needed
Thanks for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come close and not got a cigar many times in my life, so I decided to try you. Radio is the medium for my words, 90 seconds with Michael, could go nationwide, it’s a simple idea, with great words, mine if I can be boastful. I have already recorded 200 of my 1300+ shorts, 11 hours plus of audio.
some can be heard at www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com
Cheerio, Michael Casey
Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
w
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com
to hear 50+ stories
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
8 ebooks and 3 Printed on Paper Books
http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
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Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 162 countries so far 
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