Google Plus Me Google Plus You

Google Plus Me Google Plus You ©

By Michael Casey

The thing about the Internet is that strange things can and do happen, if it can happen it will happen. Murphy’s Law or Sod’s Law is the fancy name for it. I did work in computer rooms for 25 years or so, which means I know all about crashes and disasters. When I started back in 1978, before I had any white hair, computers were as big as washing machines and you had tape decks as big as wardrobes.

So that was the past, before everybody had a PC, before mobile phones were invented, and before a mobile phone only slightly bigger than a pack of fags, fags means cigarettes in England by the way,  before a mobile could be used to surf the  Internet. I can remember when nobody used the words surf the Internet. You would have been thinking about the Beach Boys if anybody said surf.

So now we all use the internet and email, I’ve been using email on a daily basis since 1999 or maybe a couple of years before that, so that’s 16 years plus. Now we have Google Plus it’s a more confusing version of Facebook, and there is Linkedin which is supposed to be posh Facebook for business people. So the Internet connects people, it also allows scammers to send you rubbish.

A stolen image is used as a front, my own image might be used somewhere. Then a stolen name or even a variant of the real name that goes with the picture is added. Then the scammer is in business, they friend you or add you to their circle. Then the fun begins. You are offered sex, drugs and rock and roll. All kinds of everything, whatever they think will catch you.

We all have received scam emails, but scamming via Facebook or Linkedin or Google Plus, is more fun for them. I delete everything that does not have a decent subject line, but with social media they are already in your front room so to speak. They’ll strike up a conversation, they are Barrister this or Barrister that, they are a holy person, a good christian or muslim or whatever, and then in the very next sentence they want you to do money laundering for them.

$10,000,000 to share with you. They forget they are sending emails to England and still say dollars or euros, which proves the mass produced nature of their scams, they could not be bothered to change the currency. Oh I forgot they are dying of cancer too, in reality they are in a swanky hotel, better than James Bond’s hotels.

On social media they can watch your posts and stalk you, pretend this and pretend that. Comment on and upvote your posts. They are an Australian mining magnate who wants to give you money. In this case I had never even heard of her name, I googled it and smiled, yet another scamming ploy. Why would a billionaire want to give me money, or they are a senior military figure, a general even….

The reality is, they are all full of BS as the Americans say, just trying to con anybody. Just sent us 100dollars and that will cover expenses and in return we will send you $10,000,000 by return of post. Sadly the scammers trick some people into doing this. Me I don’t need money, Health and an end to pain  is all I desire. Though if any billionaires are out there a nice bigger house would be nice. Rupert Murdoch may be in England for the rugby on Saturday so I assume he’ll email or leave a message on my Google Plus. And of course it really will be him. He’ll publish my books and use my radio stories too, www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  

And if I believed that then I’d believe in Fairies, though I do believe in Fairies I do I do, as the film said. So what should I advise you all? Don’t believe anything you find on the Internet. Yes there are a few nice people, I have stumbled over one or two, but the majority are hoaxers and scammers. It may just be I am a magnet for rubbish, or the pain I’ve been having these past two years has made me more cynical, but as they used to say on Hill Street Blues, be careful out there.

Sales Pitch

Sales Pitch ©

By Michael Casey

Let me start by saying I’ve never worked in Sales, that’s SALES but I have sold things. It’s always easy to offer advice than to do the actual job, but you are at a distance from the problem so you can see the wood for the trees. I have in my past lives worked at a 4 star deluxe business hotel for 3 years, in fact I opened the hotel. I ended up as Employee of the Year, a very close runner up…. So let’s take it as read that I knew what I was doing.

My pitch was to tell everybody who entered the hotel just how great it was and what we had to offer, immediately you can see by me using the word WE I felt invested in the Hotel. The training was good, and I was desperate to please as I had a wife and toddlers to feed, starvation always encourages hard work. I really enjoyed the job and it was the most fun, and the hardest work I did in my life.

I must have spoken to 100,000 people over those 3 years I just did not stop talking. My chest size went up 2 inches and my neck size 1 inch due to all the talking, and bag carrying I did. You must be confident and just keep on talking non-stop, having micro conversations with as many people as possible. As soon as anybody entered our lobby I was talking to them within 30 seconds. Our manager Jonathan Walker once went to a rival hotel and he was stood there 20mins before anybody bothered to talk to him. He was horrified, to be honest normally I was like a trap sprung within 15 seconds of any guest arrival, 30 seconds was if I was being lazy or stopped to pick up a speck of dust on the way to my booming Hello and Welcome to CPNEC Birmingham.

So you can see I have experience and ability in the talking side of things. I also spent 3 years at a major law firm here in Birmingham, talking to cleaners, secretaries and lawyers not forgetting all the Tonys on security. It’s all about not being shy but getting up and talking. Back in 1998 I went on a presenting course, it was fun. The next day I was in the Czech Republic and my penfriend asked could I speak to her English language students. So I said yes, totally unexpectedly I was talking to a class of 25, I did 90mins off the top of my head.

Using this experience I was able to teach Esol English to classes from 30 to 120, I got 2 excellents and an exemplary for my external assessment of my teaching skills. Now I’m telling you all this so that you may listen to me when I give you my 2 penny worth about Selling. I could also say that my play Shoplife was accepted for production by a professional theatre back in 1989, you can buy a copy on Amazon. It will teach you how not to behave in a shop, while you laugh your head off.

The first thing to say about selling is that it is all about talking, and not being shy. It’s also about listening. What I hate is seeing sales staff talking to each other huddled up a corner. If you want to talk you can always stand back to back like dualists, that way you can watch 360 degrees of the shop and don’t appear lazy. Chewing gum is a no no too, as is combing your hair or playing with your crotch. 

Stand by the door and drag the customer in with wit and laughter, say how beautiful their dog is, or baby or granddad. Anything within reason to start up a conversation and get them to enter the shop. Walking past the shop doesn’t pay you wages, get them through that door. Be knowledgeable about what you are selling, if its light bulbs or the latest fashion. If you don’t know then say you know a man or woman who does know. Don’t lie or bluff it, you will be found out.

Phil at CPNEC Birmingham was the man I’d ring on the dec phone and I’d point to him at the other side of the car park as he walked in and solved any problem I couldn’t solve myself. It was seamless, it was theatre, it was fluid, it was professional. The guest got what they wanted, and I looked like a ringmaster, then Phil the true hero went back to car park patrol. The system worked because we were a team.  Later on I’d join Phil in the car park to pick up the litter after I’d finished talking to millionaires.

So sales is all about confidence, or acting confident and keeping on talking. In a shop you must be engaging and try and entice them in and then get them to buy something. If you haven’t got what they want you offer something else. If they wanted black you offer brown or grey if that’s all you have. You don’t just say no, no and no again. It is fun talking to people and filling you day with laughter, we laughed loads at the hotel, and worked our butts off.

If you hide in the corner and say you are bored and why has the boss given you one month’s notice and why is the next renter measuring up the shop, then you only have yourself to blame. Active and Proactive are nice words, but in sales they are the words you should live by. The thing you are selling the most is not the actual product, the shoes, the clothes, the makeup or whatever, it’s you. If you are nice and people like you, then they will be more likely to buy from you. It’s as simple as that.

Do you like being with grumpy people, or do you like Marie because she is a laugh, or do you like Michael because he is sensitive, or do you hate the sight of Peter. If you can be that nice warm person you enjoy being with, then you will be a good salesperson, you will be a natural. So I’ll leave it there for tonight, the answers are always inside you, just listen to yourself. And then talk to everybody. 

Message to Spammers

Message to Spammers

By michaelgcasey

I’m fed up of idiots putting spam comments/adverts attached to what I write. On my other sites their comments don’t even get read as they have to be approved, and I just delete them    un-approve them

so here’s a comment I added to a spammer on my previous DT, knowing your audience post.  Can the moderator also delete her account, she an American spammer.

Hey, or should I say hello as we are in England. You really don’t know your audience. You are probably a little old lady of 87 with no teeth and plenty of body smell, WE don’t believe your are the girl or the name in the picture. I HOPE THE MODERATOR DELETES YOUR PROFILE, YOUR EVER SO SECRET PROFILE. DT readers earn that kind of money already. Its a newspaper for clever successful people, would you cut and paste your rubbish into the Washington Post? The poorest person is me, just waiting for the Undertaker to get me.Whatever your name is please desist, STOP< CEASE< or just GIVE UP as nobody reads your rubbish. Any comments posted to my sites do NOT get seen as I have a filter,ME and I just delete them UNREAD, and they do not LITTER my site. So go do yourself a favour, and that;s how we spell over here we use OUR not OR, just read a book, or write one, and AMAZE us with your wit and intelligencce. Then maybe one day TROLLS, that what we call people like you over here, maybe a TROLL like you will be as Big as James Bond, and yes that’s my Day Job. I am 007.

Michael Casey 007 ©

By Michael Casey

I had a security pass with 007 on it, so it got me thinking. What if I was in a Bond film. There will be a new film and Daniel Craig will be the man again.

Could I be a baddie? No I couldn’t possible do that, I mean I don’t look like a baddie do I? My girls wouldn ‘t like it either,  daddy couldn’t possible be a baddie, and as for the wife, I was her Panzi after all. Panzi meaning Fat Fat Boy in Chinese.

So what could I be in a James Bond film? I could carry his bags, I did work in a 4star business hotel for 3 years. So I have the practice. I could carry James Bond’s bags up to his room and knock a few things over, or spill things on James Bond and try to wipe him down with a towel, so James Bond pushes me over the balcony into the pool.

Then the next day Bond lounging by the pool, and me/the porter trips over him so Bond throws me in the pool again. Later in the day I knock his Aston Martin with my trolley, so I get thrown in the pool again.

Finally I/the porter annoys him again, so this time he shoots me. And Bond says “I never believed in tipping.”

Now if Lee Evans is not available for the above then I’d do it. Wouldn’t we all love to be in a Bond film, just think how much they could charge for the privilege.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

   

don't spam just buy and read my books

Knowing your audience

Knowing your Audience ©

By Michael Casey

If you ever look at my words http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/ is one place you’ll find them and www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com is another place too, what you’ll discover is my mainly comic view of the world, a few typos too as I tend to write late at night after I’ve laughed at the Press Review on Sky News. I hope I amuse you enough so that you come back, eventually you might even buy my 9 books on Amazon.

It’s strange for me to look at the viewing figures and see where my readers live, or rather where their IP says they live. You can hide and disguise your IP so that you appear in a different country. Who knows President Xi may be a fan of mine, or even Putin and Obama. They ring each other at night and ask did they see my latest story, Pope Francis reads my stuff first of course, I did predict Francis would be the name of the next Pope, IF only I had put money on it, but the Love of money is the root of all evil, a card just fell off the hifi behind me, made me jump. I get the message anyway.

This past week I’ve had viewers/readers from:- Russia, Ukraine, USA, Portugal, France, Belgium, and here in England. So what are they doing, or are they all hackers? Does the humour travel, judging by the map it must do, it has reached Far Flung Places or Palaces, which sounds like one of our Chinese relatives.

It will be interesting to see if the Political Correct Brigade suddenly appear to condemn me for the last sentence. I’ll draw to their attention that my Chinese nickname is Panzi which I was told meant Fat Fat Boy, by my Shanghai wife, now more than a decade and a half later I am told by my Birmingham/Shanghai daughter that it really means PIG.        So who is being more Politically Correct? I hope that puts political correctness to bed.

As I write I don’t think this will appeal to the French or the Russians, I hope the commonality in my stories crosses all frontiers. I won’t quote Shakespeare and be all pretentious about him, I will say Falstaff is probably the character I have most in common with. I did in fact study Henry IV Part One for my Eng Lit O level a long long time ago. I even did a year of Shakespeare at Open Uni. All I’ll say is that the good bits are great and well worth watching on Sky Arts or wherever you find them.

However I will ask why do schools kill Literature by the way they study it. My daughter has started her GCSE English course and I remember how I was taught it 40 years ago. Can they just give the kids 2 weeks to read the set texts on their own, and then watch the video, before they start the line by line Postmortem of the book.

Now you see I’ve got side-tracked, because words are important to me and I just want people to enjoy words, not to see them as Castor Oil that nurse forces you to take, or English Literature forced down your throat. Words should bring joy, and if they don’t then the teaching is wrong. Discuss.

 Now back to you, my audience, even if it’s just one lonely person reading by a torch in the confessional while waiting to confess the next sinner. Francis your secret is safe with me, you are my number one fan in the Vatican, did Benedict forward my email to you when he resigned?

Anyway, you can connect with one person by talking about something they are interested in, as a Concierge+ for 3 years I spoke to 100,000 people all told, so I had plenty of practice at talking and breaking down barriers. When I write I speak about what interests me and hopefully by writing in an entertaining way I can get and keep the audience’s attention.

A singer has his set list, and from his experience knows what works and what does not. Certain songs work better in different cities, and countries. I spent years in a Folk club drinking in the corner, I also migrated to Trad Jazz as well. A feel for music even if  you can’t sing a note means that you can spot a good singer from 100 yards, and a bad snger from 1000 yards. You see stagecraft good, bad and indifferent.

Speaking of music I’d love to go drinking with Putin, imagine me and Putin have a couple of pints of Stella Artois in a back street bar in Birmingham. A singer starts singing at the piano in the corner, Putin is really really enjoying it. So he gets up to dance, I’ve had too much Stella Artois so I get up to dance too, me. Putin and the FSB. The lights come on, we all in a Gay Bar and its Elton John at the piano. Elton comes over with the biggest bottle of Polish Vodka you’ve ever seen in your life. Putin drinks it all, and spends the night dancing while Elton plays Abba songs.

I’ve side-tracked myself again now, but at least any gay readers and any Russian readers might be both amused and asking Santa for my stupid idea to come to pass. That’s the thing with writing, anything is possible. If you know my own story you won’t believe it either, but I assure you it all really happened that way.

Finding a Plumber

Finding a Plumber ©

By Michael Casey

As we all know a good plumber is worth more than Gold itself, and the prices they charge are of that order too. Last week we heard a drip drip drip but could not discover the origin, we went outside to put something in the bins and all was revealed, the overflow of water was coming from the upstairs central heating feeder tank. So now all we had to do was find a plumber. But hang on our central heating was covered by insurance, or so I thought.

Insurance is a strange thing, you are covered or you are not covered, it’s like your boyfriend stealing the duvet, sometimes your bum is exposed and a target, other times you are totally covered and as snug as a bug in a rug, while he shivers on a mountain ledge. So your insurance cover is like that, various degrees of coverage or exposure. So joyfully I rung my insurance company, I assumed I had total coverage, only it turned out my bum was exposed, and no joyful target for my wife, it was exposed and not covered by my insurance company.

In plain English, my new boiler was covered by my boiler insurance, but my header tanker and its float, they could have been on the Moon. They were not covered, but the insurance company could cover them, if I had them fixed first. As for my radiators they were not covered either, apart from my pants covering them while they dried and filled the room with steam. So now you know.

So the hunt for a plumber began, which was almost as difficult as Stanley’s quest for                 Dr Livingstone. You always go on recommendation for plumbers and builders and maybe even priests. So we got a recommendation for Peter, who  I thought was the same Peter who did my sister’s central heating. Only it wasn’t, it was cool West Indian lad, who said “later” which was supposed to be an hour later, but turned out to be never. Maybe he had something to do, but not for us. Then we had another plumber in mind, an Indian guy who’d done up several houses in the neighborhood and fixed our kitchen gutter. He was going to do a garden gate for us as well, but the cost was too much in my opinion. So I made a garden gate myself, out of the old slats from my pine bed. As for the Indian his phone was no longer receiving calls, so option 2 had gone.

Option 3 was look online, so I found a fancy plumber and told them what I wanted, a quote for a new float in my feeder tank. They replied with an automatic email, they even had a wonderful website, telling on a ticker whose toilet had been unblocked.  Only my job was too small for them as I never heard back from them.

Time had passed and my hair had grown longer, no I hadn’t turned into Rapunzel, maybe more like the Wolfman, so I gave in to my  Shanghai wife’s nagging and went for a haircut. We are blessed with maybe 13 hairdressers where I live, half being for women and half for men. So I went to the Italian barber, only he was shut. So then I went to the Russian barber, only she was shut too. I had spotted a new Pakistani barbers while I was trying to have my haircut, so I decided to go there. He had a certificate on the wall proving he’d had some college training in hairdressing skills.

I was pleased as his hairdressing skills matched the certificate on the wall, so that was great. We got talking and he told me how his cousin encourage him to try barbering. I was about to guess what he’d done previously when he told me, taxi driver. I smiled I remembered all my taxi drivers when I’d been working at CPNEC Birmingham, we had had a great relationship, they came in fast and I got them out ever faster. Keep the customer satisfied was my policy, get our guests where they wanted to be, and keep the drivers happy too. Most of my drivers were Pakistani lads.

As my hair was cut and the years fell away I asked on impulse, do you know any plumbers? He picked up a card from the shelf in from of him, plumbers. So my quest to find a plumber had ended, in the barbers shop with my ½ price haircut. I rung the number on the card and then 2 days later the plumber arrived.

The plumber Mr J was young and strong, he needed be, as my header tank was in a strange position, it was in my bedroom about 8 feet off the floor. Mr J had to remove my mattress and part-dismantle the bed so he could get the ladder up under the tank. As I’ve still not fully recovered after my bypass and my arthritis means I cannot exert myself too much. Mr J did the business and my central heating header tank float was replaced. And my bed put back together again. All for £50 and in one hour.

I did offer him a cup of tea, he couldn’t stop, so he said maybe next time, I said I hoped I never saw him, we laughed. I wasn’t laughing the night before, some bastard had tried to break into our home, but that’s another story.