I worry about how much 10 years of dealing with shit PR's is affecting me.
Take today. Now the front door on the block of flats where I live has been broken since May and despite various emails and phone calls from myself and my neighbours to the housing association which is the freeholder nothing has been done about it.
The defect has become more serious in recent days because the lock has taken to occasionally sticking so you can't get (it's the only fire escape route out of the block unless you jump out a window).
Armed with the fact that they could possible be responsible for people being burned to death (little melodrama always helps I find) I've managed to get them to promise to send someone out on Monday morning.
This afternoon at work, bearing in mind I'm having a very stressful day, I get a call:
Caller: "Is that 20 C. Grove"
Me: No its the resident of 20 C. Grove
Caller: You have a repair booked for Monday morning but we have a repairman in your area and wondered if he could pop around to fix the door lock?
Me: Does he need someone to let him in because I am at work
Caller: Yes he does, could you let him in?
Me: No I'm at work.
Caller: Do you know if anyone else is in
Me: I'm sat at my desk, in my office, in central London, how am I supposed to know if any of my neighbours are at home to let the repairman in
A little unnecessary and a little harsh, she was just trying to help and speed up the repair after all but I spend so much of my working life being asked stupid questions, bombarded by shit information and generally hassled by PR's, my irritability threshold is getting so low it spills over into everyday life.
I don't like being rude to people, apart from PR's on occasions, but I fear I'm well on the road to becoming a grumpy old woman.