Friday Afternoon Syndrome

Ever had a workman visit your house to do a job on a Friday afternoon and he’s made you wish you’d never contacted his company in the first place? It’s amazing how many workers are affected by Friday Afternoon Syndrome. They’re ratty, impatient, unhelpful, they’ve had enough, the weekend can’t come soon enough and they really don’t want to be bothered.

First one I remember was the fella who came to install Sky tv. He was putting up the dish outside in the rain and I’d planned to make him a nice hot cuppa to make him feel a bit better, but when he came inside he made it clear he was in no mood for niceties. He should have had a sign hanging round his neck with ‘do not disturb’ written on it. I was sitting in my own living room and I hardly dared to speak. Of course when he got it all set up he didn’t want to explain how it worked. I said “Do you have written instructions?” He said “Yes in the van”. I said “Ok I’ll find out how to work it from that.” I think he realized at that point that I’d had enough of his attitude. I took the booklet and shut the door on him. Miserable twat.

I planned to have a wall of concrete panels erected at the back of my house and someone from a fencing company was coming round on the Friday to price the job up. I’d already got one quote of £250. He arrived and said “I’ve had a rotten day.” I said ” I’ve had days like that too.” He didn’t say another word to me. He looked at the area where I wanted the job done, for about five seconds, took a piece of paper out of his pocket, wrote something on it, handed it to me and walked off. He’d written £350. I wouldn’t have given him the job even if his quote had been competitive.

The doctor diagnosed sciatica and sent me to see a physiotherapist, who turned out to be a polite young man called Seb. He asked me questions like how long I’d had the pain, when did I see my GP etc. He then provided a length of latex which he tied in a knot at one end and showed me how to use it to do remedial exercises. So far so good. The next appointment was on a Friday afternoon and this time he was wearing a mask. When I told him there had been no improvement he seemed to lose patience with me, as though his exercises were supposed to be some kind of miracle cure. He started to fire questions at me in quick succession, the same ones I’d answered on my first visit. He then said “Have you done the exercises with a towel?” I said “No I’ve done them with the thing you gave me.” He said “You should have done them with a towel, it’s firmer.” I said “I don’t remember you telling me to use a towel.” He then accused me of being argumentative. I said “I’m not arguing with you, I’m telling you what I remember.” I asked him if he was the same therapist I’d seen before and he said yes. I thought well you could have fooled me. He asked if I wanted another appointment and I said no. I left the building and was so annoyed, I walked fifty yards up the street before I realized I’d left my car in the car park!

If I make appointments with anyone these days, I make sure they’re on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays or Thursdays.

to-done.com

Nominated by Allan.

36 thoughts on “Friday Afternoon Syndrome

  1. I’m amazed they turn up any afternoon! Loads I’ve had the displeasure of don’t bother 😩 how they keep in business is baffling, then again the hordes that are coming into the kingdom should alleviate the problem seeing as most are fully skilled tradesmen 👍

    • Not my experience.
      We had an appointment booked last Friday for 3:10pm.
      To have the gas fire in our lounge serviced.
      Workman turned up 20 minutes early.
      Good. No problem.
      Got on with the job immediately, took about 40 minutes.
      Nice fella.
      We had a mug of tea afterwards.
      Asked his professional opinion of Smart Meters.
      They’re shite (obviously).
      Advised us to avoid getting one as long as possible.
      Presumably, my experience was the exception that proves the rule.
      Whatever the fuck that means.

      • Aaaarrggh!

        Exceptions do not prove rules.

        “exceptio probat regulam” in latin.

        Exceptions _test_ rules.

        Makes far more sense.

        Apokogies but a real anathema to me.

        TLC

      • No problem. 👍
        PS:
        Thanks for the information.
        Never give a sucker an even break.
        Every time he’s breaking through to a new level of consciousness,
        There always seems to be more obstacles in the way.
        What you gain on the hobby horse,
        You lose on the swings.
        I like mine over easy.
        You can have yours sunny side up.
        Don’t want to quibble over insignificant details.
        I know I should look before I leap.
        He who believes first will be later.
        He who believes later will be first.
        Every time I take two steps forward
        I end up having to take three back.
        Thanks for the information.
        A bird in the hand is worth two in her bush.
        Thanks for the mammaries.

  2. Sometimes you don’t get a choice of who to use.

    When I do have the choice I ignore English tradesmen as they have invented themselves as experts on the plane over from Gatwick.

    Spanish are lazy and unreliable.

    I have found that Estonians are the best.
    Punctual and hard working, putting in a 12 hour day.
    Their skills and attention to details are astonishing.
    Young guys, in their early 20’s who are experts.

    I have leaned that there are plenty of vocational colleges in Estonia.

    Much better than going to a university for a media studies degree and ending up working in McDonald’s.

    • I’m with the workmen.
      You always get some dozy Ill prepared cunt mithering on a Friday.

      You’ve grafted your arse off all week, feel pissed up your that tired,
      Your looking forward to the weekend,
      Few light ales
      Time with family

      And the last customer?

      Lifts not working ,
      3rd floor,
      “Oh I’ve got a treble wardrobe too”

      Well here’s a screwdriver you dick.
      You strip it.
      And your bills just gone up.

      Fuckin Friday nuisances.

  3. The snail-munching Frogs are even worse Allan. They’re masters of the 4-day weekend.
    1. The National Sport of Going on Strike always happens on Mondays and Fridays.
    2. Several public holidays land on a Thursday, so they take the Friday off as well.

    No joking.

  4. Fri afternoon? I start winding down Weds afternoon once over the hump.
    And it takes me till Tuesday afternoon to get up to full speed after the weekend.
    Going on strike soon because I have to go into the office twice a week. It’s inhumane is what it is. What about my human rights and delicate disposition?

  5. No fucker does anything when they say they will. Can’t be fucking arsed, cunts. It is pointless making appointments, it is all pretend. A sort of game that you always lose, but if you want the plumbing fixed, or the roof repaired you have no choice but to take part in the charade. Don’t even get me started on estimates, quotations and out turn!

    ‘See you next Tuesday, then.’ Yeah, right.

    • Years ago I wanted to change my consumer unit. To this day I remember I rang 12 electricians, not one of them answered the phone, only 3 rang back, 2 of them didn’t want to know and the last one made an appointment and never showed up. Cunts all of them. I never did get it changed.

  6. No such thing as a Friday when you work shifts… especially night shifts….!

    Still, I got to retire at 55…😁

    Shove your winter fuel payments up your reamed out ring piece Starmers…!

    • Just what I was thinking as well ZM. I worked the most ungodly hours for decades, time of day, weekends, bank holidays all pretty meaningless really. Met police called me out at 3am one Christmas day and once I was in the false ceiling at Oxford services on the M40 fixing a router in the early hours of Christmas day. Still, suited me I guess as I worked until I was 69. I suppose it helped that I enjoyed driving anything up to 1,000 miles a week especially in inclement weather and I must say if I had had to work full time in some of the places I visited I would have cut my wrists.

  7. I just find it a symptom of the country on the whole. No wonder it’s dying on its arse. I find it a lot in the office environment too especially the younger ones. Many a time I hear them say “It’s too difficult, I’m leaving that”. Yes, leave it to me you the idle twat, until I gave them a bollocking after I’d had enough. Back into the nom, some of them that have come to my house to quote, they act as if you’ve bothered and hassled them asking for a fucking quote! Changed their tune since Covid haven’t they! There’s a lack of pride in the Country as a whole, litter all over, graffiti, run down buildings, shit infrastructure. To me the nom is another to add to that list.

    • It’s about time those cunts who like to throw coppers under the bus just to appease the dark types were pulled up, the appeal said the initial verdict was bullshit.
      The car had blacked out windows so how could the police know who was driving useless there was drill music playing at full blast.
      Just like that ‘I am the chosen one’ Dawn Butler claimed she was stopped because she was black when she wasn’t actually driving and the bloke who was driving must have been the whitest black man ever

      They are all cunts

  8. Good nom Allan and I can go further, not only Fridayitis but every dayitis.

    We had some work done to our house a few years back and was forced by my wife’s family to use ‘the family building business’ to do the work (against my protesting). At that time The Father-in-law was looking to pass the beacon to his useless, fat, bell-end of a son (my brother in law unfortunately) who clearly used the work he did in our house as training on the job.

    We were told we would get family rates and be able to save on certain taxes. What transpired what an orchestra of fucks up, wonky flooring, lack of attention to detail, a shorter than planned for extension and and all round ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’.

    Back to the point, the cunt never turned up on a Friday as he needed to sleep becuase he was also a part time DJ cunt.

    We ended up paying probably £6K more than we needed to (having people to come in and rectify things) and there was no ownership of the fuck ups.

    Needless to say all these years on and he knows I think he’s a cunt.

    I can’t see how he’s still running the famileeeee business and he’s a lazy cunt, you can tell becuase he’s a chunky cunt as he waddles like a duck being fattened up for pate.

  9. I’ve got sciatica.

    Hurts like fuck.
    Like your leg has come lose,
    One arse cheek numb like Huw Edwards has had you.

    Normally get it after a heavy week of work,
    Trick is to keep moving about.
    Do a few stretches.

    It’s a big nerve that runs down your back getting trapped apparently?

    Don’t see the doctor though.

    Them cunts answer to everything is to take 5pints of blood,
    An give you a flu jab.

    • You have my sympathy Mis, I’ve tried it. It’s no joke. A medic told me that three conditions with the potential for the greatest pain were sciatica, kidney stones and childbirth. I’ve tried two of ’em, safe from the third at least.

      • That kidney stones is meant to smart a fair bit Arfur?

        Don’t fancy that!

        Sciatica I can live with.
        You know it’s not going to last.

    • Me too, Mis.

      I used to manage the attacks with a combination of paracetamol and ibuprofen. Double dose to start off, then alternating doses of paras ( every four hours) and Ibuprofen ( every six hours).

      Then I developed a heart condition, and can only take paracetamol, and codeine. Try and get codeine prescribed! It’s like trying to find rocking horse shit.

      I buy it on line.

      It’s the only thing that really works, and I hoard it like diamonds for really severe attacks.
      Yes, it gets worse as you get older.

  10. Friday syndrome, it happens on the roads too and usually starts around 4.30pm. With the trucks we get a front row seat to watch it all unfolding on the big screen. Tailgating, stupid overtaking, anger, horns blasting, non-regulation hand signals, etc. Not that this doesn’t go on at any other time, but it’s noticeably intense on Friday afternoons. We’ve had dash cams fitted recently, always good for a laugh later – “Watch this cunt look, here he comes…fucks sake what a twat”.

    • If you are buying a new car, always check what day it rolled off the production line.

      Monday morning / Friday afternoon cars were notorious for flaws.

  11. Monday morning or Friday afternoon total cuntfest and I know this to be a fact cos it’s exactly how I was
    Most of my gripe was with the boss as he always used to say don’t wanna be late finishing on a Friday yet it always ended up being the latest day of the fucking week!

  12. If I ever have someone come to do a job, and they really go above and beyond ( yes, it does happen sometimes), I make a point of leaving a five star review for that person.

    After all, we’re quick to complain about sub standard work, and surly bastards being awkward for sport, aren’t we?

    I’ve had a couple of occasions when I could have kissed the feet of the worker, like the bloke who came out within an hour to replace my broken shower unit, as I have no bath to use as an alternative, or the Lass from my energy supplier, who worked through torrential rain to fix a malfunctioning gas supply. Absolutely drenched, and still apologised for dripping on the floor.
    I wouldn’t have blamed he for sitting in her van until it eased off, and you can be sure both got a glowing testimonial from me.

    • Good for you Jeezum mate! I was one of those people who used to whizz around the country fixing things for folks. On occasion I had people call into the office to express gratitude for my efforts. However sometimes people complained for reasons I couldn’t fathom. One I will always remember was a job in Rotherhithe where I knocked on the head an intermittent fault which had come in several times and within half an hour of me leaving the guy on site phoned my boss to tell him that he thought I didn’t know what I was doing! FFS!

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