Shaun says: 'I live in Sheffield ... but hope exists

The alarm went off and I slept through it, woke up in a panic five minutes before work, rolled out of bed and logged on to the computer. No time for breakfast, just long enough to splash my face with water and throw some clothes on.

Friday, 26th March 2021, 11:13 am
Shaun Doane, frontman of Everly Pregnant Brothers

It begins; the systems are running slow, the phone lines are playing up, my headset is held together with duct tape, I need a coffee, I’ll get one in a bit. The lines are busy, call after call after call and everyone today is in a BAD mood. 9.30, I’ve been at work for ninety minutes and I’ve been hung up on, sworn at, called an idiot, and generally been the butt of frustration and anger. I’m not taking it personally, it happens.

Break time, 10 minutes to grab a bite and a drink, we’re almost out of bread, just a slice of toast then, and a glass of squash.

Back on the phones, more anger, more frustration, more annoyance, and that’s just me trying to log back into the system so I can get shouted at again.

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Guiness

Lunchtime, I’m so tired, I go for a lie down instead of going for lunch, then I’m surprised with a chip butty, this is very welcome, and is inhaled in five minutes flat. Back to lie down for 20 minutes.

Alarm goes off, I don’t sleep through it this time. Back to my desk. Meeting cancelled, rescheduled for tomorrow, on with busy work, in between calls.

Much nicer this afternoon, I think everyone has been for a nap and had a chip butty, this is great news.

Watching the clock ticking down, approaching the end of the day. One more call to make, wrong number. Get the right number. Call again. Lovely person on the line, a very enjoyable conversation and we’re helping them on their way. Tidy up and log off.

Same again tomorrow. And tomorrow, and tomorrow…

This has been our reality for a year now, days melting into each other and for everyone working from home, only the weather outside has changed.

More and more people are being vaccinated, less people are dying, and hopefully less people are being infected.

There’s a growing light at the end of the tunnel, I can almost taste the first pint of Guinness and the first curry eaten sitting inside a restaurant.

I don’t live in Hope, I live in Sheffield … but hope exists.