He Shoots, He Scores, It Is Probably An Own Goal

The upshot of this last communication, it turns out, is that we have a shipment arriving into Dublin today and the charges on it, some several thousand dollars, have to be paid before we can release it to the customer, who of course needs it urgently. The Boss is panicking because at this time of year a bank transfer could take until next week, and so the shipment would be delayed, the customer upset, and so on.

Now that I have figured out, after much ado, what in the flying fuck is going on, I have just rectified this entire panic attack by calling someone I know in the shipping line's local branch and asking very nicely "Hey, could you sort this out with your Dublin people for us please, so we have a credit account and can just pay for this in January?" to which the reply was "No bother mate, I'll sort that out for you, Happy New Year".

So some sort of GODAWFUL END OF THE WORLD BOSS PANIC is resolved by a simple friendly phone call, the downside of this being that when she comes in tomorrow, I already know in advance that she's going to be furious about me having done this in the quick, efficient and friendly way. She will, I already know, take great exception to this. Arse-biscuits. Honestly, I've had her on the bloody phone all day and "nails down the blackboard" doesn't even begin to cover it, it's the conversational equivalent of having my scrotum trapped inside a dot-matrix printer.