Let`s not kid ourselves, Call Centres are for the Service Provider`s convenience and not the Client.

Call centres; I abhor them with a vengeance.
They go against everything Mecannylad has ever been taught about putting the customer first.

The number of obscure options they give you. Hell, it’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire all over again ! When you finally plump for your preferred option you are still likely to get yet another four bloody sub-choices and only then (without resorting to asking the audience) might you be lucky enough to finally speak to an actual person. But wait for it …. the person on the other end of your telephone will have such an effected accent you won`t be able to bloody understand them anyway !!

And all this of course after you’ve been listening to fifteen minutes of Rachmaninov`s 3rd piano concerto in D minor ….it’s a reassuring touch to be told intermittently “your call is important to us”.

Really? …. they are having a laugh !

MECANNYLAD : THE EARLY YEARS

And so it passed, Mecannylad was born amongst the bullrushes on the banks of the River Tyne in the Geordie citadel of Byker.

And it begat they first thought I might have musical tendancies as all my mother did during her pregnanacy was listen to Sing Something Simple on the wireless.They were wrong.

Times were tough but even if I have to say it myself I was a pretty bright kid at school. I remember passing my eleven-plus when I was ten, passing my GCE's at fifteen ..... and passing water in my sleep when I was sixteen.

This personal plumbing problem coupled with south facing bedroom windows and hot chimney breasts meant there always seemed to be a rainbow around my shoulder.

When I was nineteen I went to Oxford ..... to see my beloved Newcastle United lose to Oxford United. My education was completed in the toilet on the Flying Scotsman back home to Newcastle by an ambidextrous woman I`d met in the buffet bar.

Fast forward forty six years ......

MECANNYLAD NOW

Everyone knows everybody elses`s business here in the glorious Peak District village of Eyam. Infact, each and every villager seems to have the right to know everyone else`s bloody business ..... and woe betide anyone who thinks otherwise.

Mecannylad can go into the pub on a Friday night wearing a new pair of socks.
By Saturday morning all the locals out on the High Street will know not just what colour they are, but what size they are too ... and how much they cost !

Everybody and everything is fair game. There are no bloody secrets around here. None whatsoever !

SO WHAT EXACTLY IS A CANNY LAD THEN ?

In and around the North East of England it is vaguely complimentary to be considered `canny`.

A `cannylad` or a `cannylass` would have something good about them. They might be pleasant, kind, fun, caring, loving, careful ... good looking even!
Nobody is quite sure what nevertheless!!

A `Geordie` is a native of Newcastle upon Tyne .... and of course a `Townie` strangely enjoys the feeling of concrete under their feet rather than grass.

Not a lot of people know that the majestic Peak District, where Mecannylad is now undertaking his voluntary missionary work, is the second most visited National Park in the world - yes, the world - with an estimated twenty two million visitors every year.