Bedtime Stories

The last time I needed anything reading to me out loud was when I was three or four and I couldn't read for myself. And that was a long time ago. Three decades, if you must know. So I'm buggered if I'm going to sit on the end of the telephone listening to a bored junior account manager reading in monotone from a piece of paper describing a technology that they clearly don't understand and in which I am almost certainly not interested. Especially on a sunny Friday afternoon when I've only got one hour and 38 minutes left to run on my weekly sentence. One hour and 37 minutes now.

When will these people learn that it takes real skill to read something in such a way as to disguise the fact that you're reading it. Especially when the text is along the lines of the following:

“Have you got a minute to talk about my client? They’re kind of a leading Internet application performance management company. They provide automated intelligent diagnostics for web applications and web site performance problems. They’ve just launched the Performance Analyzer, which provides unparalleled diagnostic insight and for the first time prescribes specific, real-time actions for restoring peak performance in web-deployed environments.”

I don't know what that means, and neither do you. So let's stop messing around. Stick to topics you understand if you're going to phone me up. Otherwise it's disappointing and embarrassing for both of us. Like a night I once spent in a hotel room in Milan. Uggh. Still gives me the shivers. I'd have preferred a bed time story.

One hour and thirty minutes.