Sunday bloody sunday

I don't normally work on Sundays but these days nothing that happens at my work is deemed 'normal'. Getting 2 days off is a welcomed miracle.

After bailing on my mates cocktail party sober & way too early last night, it was with a heavy heart I dragged my sorry ass out of bed this morning & trundled into the office at 545am. Seriously working on Sunday's should so be illegal.

Sunday morning is an amusing time to be at my work. Between the hours of 6am-8am most of the calls we receive are from people who hooked up with a random in a drunken haze the previous eve & have woken up to find they don't know where they are. We then proceed to play a trivia game to see if we can work out where they are. I am quite good at this game seeing as I've had plenty of practice.

In my past life, pre-husband & much younger, it was not uncommon for me to be caught in this awkward situation. Usually I was smart enough to bolt before the sun came up as to avoid the 'what's your address' question whilst phoning a taxi. Because I didn't want to have to talk to them.

Some people actually have their one night standee ring for them & order the taxi. They know their own address so it makes sense right? On more than one occasion I've asked the caller what the passengers name is, to which I hear them actually asking their drunken hump of choice 'what's your name again?'. I honestly clap with glee because I find it so entertaining.

Then we have the walk of shamers. They all know where our office is. So once up, dressed  & gathered all their belonging from the foreign bedroom floor, they do the walk of shame through town to our office & fall asleep on the couch in our reception while they wait for a taxi. They always look sick & slightly sheepish cos they know I know what they've been up to. I want to shake their hands & ask them how it was for them but manners stop me from doing so.

This morning I had a guy ring me who'd obviously had a big night. He told me he felt like shit & wasn't entirely sure where he was but he could hear the ocean. After a few well worded questions I figured my mystery man was staying in a suburb near the beach. He was so happy I had the magic powers to find him that he claimed I was the nicest thing next to Jesus & he loved my soul. I gotta tell ya, these young guys have really got creative with the one liners. He then asked me if I was single & what I was up to this fine morning. It was then that I told him his cab would be there shortly & hung up. God loves a trier.

If you ever wake up on a Sunday morning lying beside someone you don't know, feeling like a bucket of ass with carpet tongue, & you really have no idea where you are.... give me a call. It's highly likely with my telepathic/elite questioning skills I will be able to find you & make sure you get home with the least shame possible.

Bx