We like to think that certain people in this life manage to have it relatively together. They are not the types to overlook a skirt that’s quietly riding up and giving passers-by an excellent flash of one’s knickers. They don’t forget to have change with them in order to always be able to feed the voracious monster that is the parking meter. They never make ill-advised posts on social media to reveal to the whole world how backward their views on certain topics are (I refuse to let on how many of these occurrences have happened to me of late).
For example, charities are warm and cuddly entities that are striving to make the world that little bit shinier. They’re organised and earnest in their crusade for betterment. They’d never do anything remotely reprehensible like deploy shark-like salespeople to do their bidding.
You know, the type of person that accosts you on the street with a planet sized grin slapped across their face. Yes, you’re running late for a doctor’s appointment to sort out that nasty rash that’s been bothering you but what about the tiny fluffy penguins suffering from head colds? What are you going to do to help them?
And then there are the donkeys who need rehabilitating to get that back into the workplace. Just a tenner from you per month will provide physical therapy sessions to sort out their repetitive strain injury in order for them to return to their secretarial responsibilities. Don’t worry if you haven’t got the time right now to hear about it. We’ll give you a call later. While you’re on the loo or making dinner (possibly both if we’re really lucky).
Commuters are a special kind of stress head. They don’t like being confronted with the failures of others. Especially charities. Because the average commuter salivates over the possibility of jacking in the day job of data entry and going to work for a nice relaxed non-profit. In this utopian workplace there will always be a brew on and biscuits. Nice ones with chocolate. Ah, bliss.