You know when you want to shake someone? When they are whining on about something but doing nothing to help themselves? When anything you suggest ‘won’t work’ or gets shrugged off even though they know it needs to be done? When you feel like shouting at them “FINE, DON’T DO ANYTHING THEN BUT STOP FUCKING TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT!”?
That is how I am feeling today.
The reason for this is Kirstie. Poor old, put upon Kirstie. Poor old, whiny, moaning Kirstie.
I know she is very stressed because she does a lot around this office and unfortunately for her a lot of this work is for a bunch of toss pots who can’t even wipe their own arses without coming to her first but she don’t half go on about it. AND she could do something about it – but she doesn’t. This is why I want to shout at her.
Some how Kirstie’s roll has developed into becoming Moon Monkey’s PA even though this is not in her contract anywhere and she never asked for it to be. She doesn’t seem to mind this too much though, it means she does stuff she is good at like organising and planning and making pretty complicated spreadsheets and ringing people and putting Moon Monkey in his place. The big drawback is that she still seems to be expected to do her old job as well, in addition, on top of this. Plus because she can be so good at spreadsheets and organising and is the lady in the know she gets a lot of random requests for other things. To put it simply, she is a very busy woman.
She also has a conscience so a lot of the time even though she wants to say “sod this” and leave early or head down the pub she won’t (luckily when it comes to work I am not blighted with this). Kirstie also has the inability to say ‘no’ to people as well. So as you can probably tell all of this ends up with her stressing and ranting and whining about people and bookings and work load.
“Talk to Moon Monkey!” I say. She needs to sort out things like what the heck her job is meant to be and her salary (she’s certainly not being paid a PA’s salary) and if he wants her to be his PA or not and if he does then to change her job title and get rid of all the other shit. “Yeah I know I will talk to him….” says Kirstie, but she doesn’t and I know she won’t. And he’ll let her go on struggling and keep piling on the work because she doesn’t complain and he’s too feckless to notice or care she is stressed.
So we have conversations like the one we had today on a weekly basis.
Kirstie: “Aggghhhhhhhh! For fucks sake!” slams down phone
Me: “Er, you ok?”
Kirstie: “I have had enough! I am so over this place!”
Me: “Too much going on or people pissing you off?”
Kirstie: “Ugh, fucking idiot people changing their minds all the time….rant, rant, rant” this lasts about 10 minutes
Me: “You need to start saying no to people”
Kirstie: “I know but, it needs to be done”
Me: “Well then sit down with Moon Monkey and say ‘either I am your PA and I don’t do this stuff or I do this stuff and am not your PA”
Kirstie: “Well it wouldn’t be a problem if people didn’t keep changing their minds”
Me: “Well they always will, you know that so that won’t change so something else has to”
Kirstie: “Yeah but….excuses, excuses, excuses….” She suddenly finds a taxi receipt on her desk she missed when doing MM expenses “Oh shit, I forgot this! Now I have to go back and do them all again!”
Me: “How much is it for?”
Kirstie: “£10”
Me: “Fuck it, just throw it away, he can afford £10 and he won’t even notice. He earns that just switching on his computer.”
Kirstie: I can see she is tempted but she can’t “oh no, it’s ok, I’ll do it”
Me: “FINE, DON’T DO ANYTHING THEN BUT STOP FUCKING TALKING TO ME ABOUT IT!”
OK so I might not have said that last sentence but I really wanted to.
Now we have reached the point where everything is pissing her off, phone’s ringing (not even hers), photocopiers, pens, her computer, people, paper clips, text messages, hot cups of tea, people walking up to her desk, her calendar not turning properly, I could go on. The whiny voice has also come into play, so it’s a sigh and a “hello…?” as she answers the phone. Jesus, I seem to be sat next to CJ again except Kirstie is actually doing some work.
I have a wooden spoon in my draw I may get out in a moment; it’s the wooden spoon I use to whack her with if she moans too much. I’ve been holding off but I think it’s about time….
Monday 28 June 2010
Friday 25 June 2010
It’s official
Got this email from Moon Monkey yesterday evening:
Dear All,
Just a short note to advise you that FB has completed her contract with Tullow Oil and now is no longer a member of the SCM team (WHOOOO!!!). FB asked me not to make any announcements or arrange anything for her whilst she was working through her last few days (because she knew we would all be as happy as fuck she was leaving and rubbing it in her face). Whilst I would have preferred to have arranged something for her leaving (yeah whatever Moon Face, I can hear the sarcasm coming through the interweb) I had to respect her wishes. She has left her private contact details with Harley should any of you wish to get in contact (oooh, me, me, me! NOT) and I am sure in a few weeks she will accept an offer of drinks or some other social gathering (if anyone were to offer one up which I am thinking as likely as me being sober in work on a Friday afternoon).
FB was a key contributor to the success of our department (really?) and we wish her all the best in her future role. We look forward to seeing her again soon (liar, liar pants on fire).
Kind Regards
Moon Monkey
I bumped into one of the guys in our team who sits round the corner in the kitchen this morning and he asked me who she was. She had been working here for 3 years. Shows how often she was actually in the fucking office.
Goodbye and good riddance.
Dear All,
Just a short note to advise you that FB has completed her contract with Tullow Oil and now is no longer a member of the SCM team (WHOOOO!!!). FB asked me not to make any announcements or arrange anything for her whilst she was working through her last few days (because she knew we would all be as happy as fuck she was leaving and rubbing it in her face). Whilst I would have preferred to have arranged something for her leaving (yeah whatever Moon Face, I can hear the sarcasm coming through the interweb) I had to respect her wishes. She has left her private contact details with Harley should any of you wish to get in contact (oooh, me, me, me! NOT) and I am sure in a few weeks she will accept an offer of drinks or some other social gathering (if anyone were to offer one up which I am thinking as likely as me being sober in work on a Friday afternoon).
FB was a key contributor to the success of our department (really?) and we wish her all the best in her future role. We look forward to seeing her again soon (liar, liar pants on fire).
Kind Regards
Moon Monkey
I bumped into one of the guys in our team who sits round the corner in the kitchen this morning and he asked me who she was. She had been working here for 3 years. Shows how often she was actually in the fucking office.
Goodbye and good riddance.
Thursday 24 June 2010
And the Saint of the day is….
Happy St John the Baptist day. Today we have cake!
Andre has been cooking again and I had a choice of Raspberry with Cream or Lemon Cake. I went with the raspberry and it was a good choice, she’d soaked some of it in cherry brandy and it was yummmmm. She of course donned her usual outfit (still don’t have a photo – must try harder!) and the trolley with the squeaky wheels came out as well. The cakes were massive! I reckon they were about 15cm tall!! Up baking all night apparently.
She is in training this week in one of the rooms next door so she took it in there during the tea break. We have external people in doing the training plus people from various other departments so who knows what they thought of this woman dressed as Maid Marion wheeling in a trolley of cake and grinning away. They got first dibs and then she came over to our part of the office. I heard her offering Moon Monkey a piece and he asked whose birthday it was and she told him and then he asked if that was a real person……
…………………………..
…………………………..
It worries me sometimes it really does.
Also for all you fact fans out there tomorrow is the anniversary of the death of Dogtanian. Hang on, no I mean d’Artagna – he of the 4 musketeers (apparently there were him and 3 others so it’s 4 not 3). Even Hermione was surprised that he actually existed because the guy who is in the books is based on a real life person. Wikipedia it innit.
See you learn new things here and we get cake – everyone’s a winner.
I’m thinking of commissioning a cake to celebrate the departure of FB, I wonder if Andre would make one for me. It would be big and have iced on the top of it “Fuck off and don’t come back”. I’ll have a word.
Andre has been cooking again and I had a choice of Raspberry with Cream or Lemon Cake. I went with the raspberry and it was a good choice, she’d soaked some of it in cherry brandy and it was yummmmm. She of course donned her usual outfit (still don’t have a photo – must try harder!) and the trolley with the squeaky wheels came out as well. The cakes were massive! I reckon they were about 15cm tall!! Up baking all night apparently.
She is in training this week in one of the rooms next door so she took it in there during the tea break. We have external people in doing the training plus people from various other departments so who knows what they thought of this woman dressed as Maid Marion wheeling in a trolley of cake and grinning away. They got first dibs and then she came over to our part of the office. I heard her offering Moon Monkey a piece and he asked whose birthday it was and she told him and then he asked if that was a real person……
…………………………..
…………………………..
It worries me sometimes it really does.
Also for all you fact fans out there tomorrow is the anniversary of the death of Dogtanian. Hang on, no I mean d’Artagna – he of the 4 musketeers (apparently there were him and 3 others so it’s 4 not 3). Even Hermione was surprised that he actually existed because the guy who is in the books is based on a real life person. Wikipedia it innit.
See you learn new things here and we get cake – everyone’s a winner.
I’m thinking of commissioning a cake to celebrate the departure of FB, I wonder if Andre would make one for me. It would be big and have iced on the top of it “Fuck off and don’t come back”. I’ll have a word.
Tuesday 22 June 2010
You’re goin’ home…
Have I had a rant about the football yet? Don’t think so. Well here we go then…
We have had an email round at work from the head honcho’s PA saying that “those interested can take some time out to watch the game.” By ‘game’ they of course mean the England v Slovenia (I just had to look up who they are playing – for those who are interested I also saw that South Africa are beating France 2-0 at half time, Saffa will be pleased) World Cup football match that’s being played tomorrow at 3pm. Personally I have tomorrow booked off work anyway as I’m off in the depths of a Berkshire forest and no where near a TV but if I wasn’t do you think they would let me leave just before 3pm to sod off and do something else?
“You coming to watch the football Nancy?”
“No I’m going home to watch the tennis.”
“Oh well, I’m not sure you can leave early if you’re going to watch the tennis….”
I’m not a total grouch, I get that this only happens once every 4 years and that the country for some reason gets all patriotic for about 3 weeks (well that seems to be the average time England spend in the World Cup), waving flags, piling out of pubs shouting “come on England!” and “Roooooooney!” – It’s so heart-warming it brings a tear to my eye. But why does it warrant an afternoon off of work? Now you know me, I’m always up for any time spent away from the office but why football? How come no one has emailed round saying we can have some time off when Murray is playing at Wimbledon? I never saw anyone asking to be excused to watch the rugby World Cup either and surely we have a better chance of winning that?!
What about the other half of the population that doesn’t want to go down a pub and be rammed into a corner by sweaty bodies, spilling beer on your head and chanting incomprehensible shat about Posh and Becks and all you can see is the back of the person in front of you head? Perhaps catching a glimpse of a tackle (easy) or throw in on the plasma screen the other end of the room. Sounds wonderful, count me in and why don’t you chuck in a fight at the end of it all when we lose and people can’t live with the fact the other team kicked more balls into the net than we did.
It’s just a game. * ducks to avoid swinging punches *
Gunner is of course wetting his pants over the World Cup in general and the game tomorrow. Even before the email he was planning on heading off to catch the game at home or down the local here. He’s been waiting for this email all week – “they’re not going to expect anyone to be here Wednesday afternoon are they?” Er well maybe seeing as it is a working day and er people have work to do? Christ, bet you thought you’d never hear me say that! It’s just the assumption that everyone will want to watch the game which annoys me. I find you get that with football fans, they can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like football. Let me count the ways….
So I’ve of course been in on the email sent round by Gunner soon after the one from the head honcho asking if I’d be joining him down the pub tomorrow afternoon. I had to let him down gently.
“No, I’ve actually got the day off tomorrow”
“Oh good planning!”
“I’m not going to be anywhere near a TV though, I’ll be in a forest in Bracknell.”
Silence. Look of utter disbelief.
You’d think he’d have given up on me by now with my complete lack of interest. Maybe he sees me as a bit of a challenge. I tell you what, I’ll promise him that I will come and watch England play in this world cup if we reach the final. I should be on to a safe bet there! Now you watch that one backfire in my face.
We have had an email round at work from the head honcho’s PA saying that “those interested can take some time out to watch the game.” By ‘game’ they of course mean the England v Slovenia (I just had to look up who they are playing – for those who are interested I also saw that South Africa are beating France 2-0 at half time, Saffa will be pleased) World Cup football match that’s being played tomorrow at 3pm. Personally I have tomorrow booked off work anyway as I’m off in the depths of a Berkshire forest and no where near a TV but if I wasn’t do you think they would let me leave just before 3pm to sod off and do something else?
“You coming to watch the football Nancy?”
“No I’m going home to watch the tennis.”
“Oh well, I’m not sure you can leave early if you’re going to watch the tennis….”
I’m not a total grouch, I get that this only happens once every 4 years and that the country for some reason gets all patriotic for about 3 weeks (well that seems to be the average time England spend in the World Cup), waving flags, piling out of pubs shouting “come on England!” and “Roooooooney!” – It’s so heart-warming it brings a tear to my eye. But why does it warrant an afternoon off of work? Now you know me, I’m always up for any time spent away from the office but why football? How come no one has emailed round saying we can have some time off when Murray is playing at Wimbledon? I never saw anyone asking to be excused to watch the rugby World Cup either and surely we have a better chance of winning that?!
What about the other half of the population that doesn’t want to go down a pub and be rammed into a corner by sweaty bodies, spilling beer on your head and chanting incomprehensible shat about Posh and Becks and all you can see is the back of the person in front of you head? Perhaps catching a glimpse of a tackle (easy) or throw in on the plasma screen the other end of the room. Sounds wonderful, count me in and why don’t you chuck in a fight at the end of it all when we lose and people can’t live with the fact the other team kicked more balls into the net than we did.
It’s just a game. * ducks to avoid swinging punches *
Gunner is of course wetting his pants over the World Cup in general and the game tomorrow. Even before the email he was planning on heading off to catch the game at home or down the local here. He’s been waiting for this email all week – “they’re not going to expect anyone to be here Wednesday afternoon are they?” Er well maybe seeing as it is a working day and er people have work to do? Christ, bet you thought you’d never hear me say that! It’s just the assumption that everyone will want to watch the game which annoys me. I find you get that with football fans, they can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like football. Let me count the ways….
So I’ve of course been in on the email sent round by Gunner soon after the one from the head honcho asking if I’d be joining him down the pub tomorrow afternoon. I had to let him down gently.
“No, I’ve actually got the day off tomorrow”
“Oh good planning!”
“I’m not going to be anywhere near a TV though, I’ll be in a forest in Bracknell.”
Silence. Look of utter disbelief.
You’d think he’d have given up on me by now with my complete lack of interest. Maybe he sees me as a bit of a challenge. I tell you what, I’ll promise him that I will come and watch England play in this world cup if we reach the final. I should be on to a safe bet there! Now you watch that one backfire in my face.
Monday 21 June 2010
Everybody conga, everybody conga….
I’m back from sunny Dorset, so glad I took off Friday as well or it would have been a right old bugger being in the office then. It’s bad enough today I tell you. I returned to find some freak has been using my computer and desk for the week and re-arranged all my stuff. Like my bowling trophy and ‘give blood’ teddy – weird. It also appears that Kirstie has put me down as a contact while she suns herself on a beach somewhere so I have emails about flights, meetings with Moonface – what is all of this? Delete, delete, delete…..
Back to reality with a bump then. However, there is always a silver lining isn’t there? You remember those secret snippets of information I gleamed from Swim? Well I can tell you about at least one of them; in fact I will delight and rejoice in telling you. I will rub my hands in glee and do a little jig.
What is it? Nancy tell us! Put us out of our misery!!
FB is out.
That’s right, she’s gawn, outta here, kaput, kicked off the team, let go, hasta la vista bitch face.
I learnt this piece of information in the cab on the way to Fawlty Towers:
Swim: “So what do you think about FB going then?”
Me and Ginger: “Er what now?”
Swim: “Don’t you know? Oh well you didn’t hear this from me then!”
Me: “So you mean she’s leaving?”
Swim: “Yeah kicked out, they’re not renewing her contract. I knew she didn’t want it to be common knowledge but assumed she’d tell her team.”
Me: “No she didn’t mention anything – I’m not surprised. Swim you have just made my day.”
Turns out Moon Monkey thinks she’s too much of a liability (FINALLY someone has seen through the bull shit and used their common sense) and told her to gerrout! Be gone foul creature! Mwahahahahaha! So no new contract for her and in fact she has gone already. Swim said she goes at the end of the month but is unlikely to be back in the office. No sign of her today so I think she might be right!
One word – karma.
I think I might organise some leaving drinks for FB. I won’t invite her of course but it will give everyone else a chance to celebrate.
Back to reality with a bump then. However, there is always a silver lining isn’t there? You remember those secret snippets of information I gleamed from Swim? Well I can tell you about at least one of them; in fact I will delight and rejoice in telling you. I will rub my hands in glee and do a little jig.
What is it? Nancy tell us! Put us out of our misery!!
FB is out.
That’s right, she’s gawn, outta here, kaput, kicked off the team, let go, hasta la vista bitch face.
I learnt this piece of information in the cab on the way to Fawlty Towers:
Swim: “So what do you think about FB going then?”
Me and Ginger: “Er what now?”
Swim: “Don’t you know? Oh well you didn’t hear this from me then!”
Me: “So you mean she’s leaving?”
Swim: “Yeah kicked out, they’re not renewing her contract. I knew she didn’t want it to be common knowledge but assumed she’d tell her team.”
Me: “No she didn’t mention anything – I’m not surprised. Swim you have just made my day.”
Turns out Moon Monkey thinks she’s too much of a liability (FINALLY someone has seen through the bull shit and used their common sense) and told her to gerrout! Be gone foul creature! Mwahahahahaha! So no new contract for her and in fact she has gone already. Swim said she goes at the end of the month but is unlikely to be back in the office. No sign of her today so I think she might be right!
One word – karma.
I think I might organise some leaving drinks for FB. I won’t invite her of course but it will give everyone else a chance to celebrate.
Wednesday 16 June 2010
Listen to me carefully, I shall only say this once
I am drunk and therefore this shall be short.
A good day was had by all, even the whingers. Here follows a short synopsis of events:
I slept well, even bereft of my Primarni pyjamas, the bed was good, pillows firm and duvet soft.
When showering I noticed a distinct lack of green slime in the base of my shower and also discovered a ‘steam room’ option which I then accidentally left on and managed to steam out my entire bathroom. Still I was impressed.
Breakfast, whilst a rushed affair (Richard A was waiting outside, tapping his toe by the raptor-mobile) was delish. We all dined thoroughly.
The morning course was good but quite confusing as I find my brain is not one for science, 3D graphs or numbers. But I enjoyed the colouring in.
Swim whined a lot throughout the morning due to tiredness (even thought she slept well), headaches and the fact that “I don’t get any of this” – maybe listen for once instead of texting your boyfriend and you might.
Lunch was again 2 rounds of sandwiches, mainly cheese based but was enjoyed walking through the forest at the base of a Normandy castle (or some era like that – history innit).
A goat threw a rock at me. No really, it did.
The afternoon was spent on beaches and cliff tops in the glorious sunshine looking at various things and stamping on the sand to make it smell like eggy farts.
I found a fossil. It’s well old innit.
In the afternoon Swim didn’t moan so much and in fact almost allowed herself to start enjoying it. Almost.
This evening we have been to a local Italian restaurant with the whole class, paid for by the tutor. Bring on the wine. The food was good but it was no Michelin star dining experience so we did miss our Restaurant With Rooms somewhat but beggars can’t be choosers.
I had a banana split. It was very retro.
I discovered some very top secret information about the company and HR that I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy, have to kill you if I told you an all that.
Very amusing cab journey on the way home with Kenneth doing some animal impressions (he does an excellent monkey).
Our Restaurant with Rooms seems to be overtaken by drunken Ascot Races people; they’re just kicking out now. SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!
Tomorrow is the last day of the course and there is talk of a presentation. I’m concerned, we’re all concerned. We may have to actually remember things we were told between the meals and walks on the beach...
This may be my last communication with you until next week. I’ll try and write tomorrow but I can’t promise anything and wouldn’t like to in case I disappoint. So farewell from the Jurassic Coastline and I shall speak to you again when I am on concreted, polluted soil.
A good day was had by all, even the whingers. Here follows a short synopsis of events:
I slept well, even bereft of my Primarni pyjamas, the bed was good, pillows firm and duvet soft.
When showering I noticed a distinct lack of green slime in the base of my shower and also discovered a ‘steam room’ option which I then accidentally left on and managed to steam out my entire bathroom. Still I was impressed.
Breakfast, whilst a rushed affair (Richard A was waiting outside, tapping his toe by the raptor-mobile) was delish. We all dined thoroughly.
The morning course was good but quite confusing as I find my brain is not one for science, 3D graphs or numbers. But I enjoyed the colouring in.
Swim whined a lot throughout the morning due to tiredness (even thought she slept well), headaches and the fact that “I don’t get any of this” – maybe listen for once instead of texting your boyfriend and you might.
Lunch was again 2 rounds of sandwiches, mainly cheese based but was enjoyed walking through the forest at the base of a Normandy castle (or some era like that – history innit).
A goat threw a rock at me. No really, it did.
The afternoon was spent on beaches and cliff tops in the glorious sunshine looking at various things and stamping on the sand to make it smell like eggy farts.
I found a fossil. It’s well old innit.
In the afternoon Swim didn’t moan so much and in fact almost allowed herself to start enjoying it. Almost.
This evening we have been to a local Italian restaurant with the whole class, paid for by the tutor. Bring on the wine. The food was good but it was no Michelin star dining experience so we did miss our Restaurant With Rooms somewhat but beggars can’t be choosers.
I had a banana split. It was very retro.
I discovered some very top secret information about the company and HR that I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy, have to kill you if I told you an all that.
Very amusing cab journey on the way home with Kenneth doing some animal impressions (he does an excellent monkey).
Our Restaurant with Rooms seems to be overtaken by drunken Ascot Races people; they’re just kicking out now. SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!
Tomorrow is the last day of the course and there is talk of a presentation. I’m concerned, we’re all concerned. We may have to actually remember things we were told between the meals and walks on the beach...
This may be my last communication with you until next week. I’ll try and write tomorrow but I can’t promise anything and wouldn’t like to in case I disappoint. So farewell from the Jurassic Coastline and I shall speak to you again when I am on concreted, polluted soil.
Tuesday 15 June 2010
Roomy Restaurant
Well we’ve had quite a day, there’s been good and bad and dinosaur taxi’s everywhere.
I didn’t sleep that well but not as badly as the rest of the gang it seems. Poor Kenneth was up at 2.30am trying to buy a bottle of water at the bar and looked very bleary eyed in the cab. My shower was as expected and it appears that the shower head had been discarded in the base because if you hung it up it leaked water quite noisily and ferociously. The ‘power shower’ was more like a dribble and I had to lift the shower door on to the base to try and shut it, which it didn’t. Breakfast arrived and was 2 pieces of cold toast, some marmalade, corn flakes and warm milk. Mmmmm, the breakfast of kings!
In the cab people were not happy and the bitch fest started. To be honest as much as I went on yesterday I think Fawlty Towers is pretty hilarious and apart from being a bit skanky, well I’ve stayed in worse that’s for sure. Not the most ideal place with it’s location, broken lift and breakfast that stars when we have to leave but there we go. However, the other 3 seemed outraged that the company would put us up in such a pit and that it would never have happened if we were even middle level management (they have a point there). I don’t think it helped matters that between us we’d probably had about 3-4 hours sleep either and with a pregnant lady in the car, well tensions were high.
To rub salt into the wounds when we rocked up at the spa hotel where the course is it was a lovely place, amazing grounds, nice foyer, tea, coffee and buns in the lounge area and not a drape in sight. Also we were told after arriving at 8.15am that the course started at 9am. Like the attachment had said and like I argued the toss about with Fuckwit. Score another one up to the HR retard.
Anyway accommodation aside the course is great, I’m really enjoying it and the tutor is wicked. We spent all afternoon and early evening walking along the coast line here and on beaches and up hills – I’m in my element. Plus the weather is cracking (t-shirt tan is developing) so it was shorts all round. However, my concentration was hampered by Swim and her continuous complaints about Fawlty Towers and then the walking and then the lunch and then everything else. I know she’s preggers and hasn’t slept or eaten properly but FFS cheer up luv! Ginger and Kenneth were egging her on somewhat as well and at one point sitting on a cliff I heard one of the other people on the course say “I only got half of what he (the tutor) was saying as I was listening to a conversation over there about a hotel....” I think we may be starting to piss people off here, let’s give it a rest eh?
But no, Swim is still on the case and texting everyone she knows in HR about it. So we get a call from Fuckwit while we’re in the mini bus. Swim lays it on thick and plays the pregnancy card and it works and we’re booked into another place for that evening. A ‘Restaurant with Rooms’, ok sounds a bit different, at least we know we’ll be fed, whatever, I am beyond caring now I’ll go with the majority.
After we arrive back at the spa our cab (this is the dinosaur link, they are ‘Jurassic Cabs’ and have the Jurassic Park logo on the side with ‘cabs’ instead of ‘park’ – stupendous, I love it) takes us back to Le Shitole and we pack up and book out in 5 minutes flat (I hate being rushed), back in the cab and off to the next place. It’s 45 minutes away in Poole, can we get any further from this course venue? Maybe just drop me in London and I’ll commute in every morning?! We rock up at 8pm and it’s like someone’s house in the middle of nowhere. No where. Looks ok, nice grounds, big gravel drive way.
We’re welcomed very warmly and our bags are taken to our rooms on the 1st floor and we’re personally shown our rooms. Well. Let’s just say that currently I am sat in bed in my complimentary robe on the free Wi Fi after having eaten the most amazing 5 course meal (2 Michelin stars), showered in my walk in, massive shower and watched a bit of my wide screen TV.
Check it: www.lesbouviers.co.uk
I think that probably says it all.
Ironically Fuckwit will have now had to of forked out twice as much on these rooms after paying for the other rooms anyway and she could have just put us up in the decent hotel she had lined up originally before Basil and Sybil popped up on her Google search. She’s going to be in so much trouble.
So now the moaning and whinging has ceased. I’m hoping tomorrow will be slightly less stressful and our fellow course members will want to sit next to us at lunch and not be in fear of being bored with the ‘crap accommodation’ conversation again.
Although I will have one little moan. In my rush to pack and get back down to Richard Attenborough and his people carrier I forgot my pyjama’s which must have been neatly stashed away under my pillows or duvet when my bed was made. Or maybe they stole them out of spite. I’ll try claiming them back on expenses if I can find the Primark receipt from 2 years ago....
I didn’t sleep that well but not as badly as the rest of the gang it seems. Poor Kenneth was up at 2.30am trying to buy a bottle of water at the bar and looked very bleary eyed in the cab. My shower was as expected and it appears that the shower head had been discarded in the base because if you hung it up it leaked water quite noisily and ferociously. The ‘power shower’ was more like a dribble and I had to lift the shower door on to the base to try and shut it, which it didn’t. Breakfast arrived and was 2 pieces of cold toast, some marmalade, corn flakes and warm milk. Mmmmm, the breakfast of kings!
In the cab people were not happy and the bitch fest started. To be honest as much as I went on yesterday I think Fawlty Towers is pretty hilarious and apart from being a bit skanky, well I’ve stayed in worse that’s for sure. Not the most ideal place with it’s location, broken lift and breakfast that stars when we have to leave but there we go. However, the other 3 seemed outraged that the company would put us up in such a pit and that it would never have happened if we were even middle level management (they have a point there). I don’t think it helped matters that between us we’d probably had about 3-4 hours sleep either and with a pregnant lady in the car, well tensions were high.
To rub salt into the wounds when we rocked up at the spa hotel where the course is it was a lovely place, amazing grounds, nice foyer, tea, coffee and buns in the lounge area and not a drape in sight. Also we were told after arriving at 8.15am that the course started at 9am. Like the attachment had said and like I argued the toss about with Fuckwit. Score another one up to the HR retard.
Anyway accommodation aside the course is great, I’m really enjoying it and the tutor is wicked. We spent all afternoon and early evening walking along the coast line here and on beaches and up hills – I’m in my element. Plus the weather is cracking (t-shirt tan is developing) so it was shorts all round. However, my concentration was hampered by Swim and her continuous complaints about Fawlty Towers and then the walking and then the lunch and then everything else. I know she’s preggers and hasn’t slept or eaten properly but FFS cheer up luv! Ginger and Kenneth were egging her on somewhat as well and at one point sitting on a cliff I heard one of the other people on the course say “I only got half of what he (the tutor) was saying as I was listening to a conversation over there about a hotel....” I think we may be starting to piss people off here, let’s give it a rest eh?
But no, Swim is still on the case and texting everyone she knows in HR about it. So we get a call from Fuckwit while we’re in the mini bus. Swim lays it on thick and plays the pregnancy card and it works and we’re booked into another place for that evening. A ‘Restaurant with Rooms’, ok sounds a bit different, at least we know we’ll be fed, whatever, I am beyond caring now I’ll go with the majority.
After we arrive back at the spa our cab (this is the dinosaur link, they are ‘Jurassic Cabs’ and have the Jurassic Park logo on the side with ‘cabs’ instead of ‘park’ – stupendous, I love it) takes us back to Le Shitole and we pack up and book out in 5 minutes flat (I hate being rushed), back in the cab and off to the next place. It’s 45 minutes away in Poole, can we get any further from this course venue? Maybe just drop me in London and I’ll commute in every morning?! We rock up at 8pm and it’s like someone’s house in the middle of nowhere. No where. Looks ok, nice grounds, big gravel drive way.
We’re welcomed very warmly and our bags are taken to our rooms on the 1st floor and we’re personally shown our rooms. Well. Let’s just say that currently I am sat in bed in my complimentary robe on the free Wi Fi after having eaten the most amazing 5 course meal (2 Michelin stars), showered in my walk in, massive shower and watched a bit of my wide screen TV.
Check it: www.lesbouviers.co.uk
I think that probably says it all.
Ironically Fuckwit will have now had to of forked out twice as much on these rooms after paying for the other rooms anyway and she could have just put us up in the decent hotel she had lined up originally before Basil and Sybil popped up on her Google search. She’s going to be in so much trouble.
So now the moaning and whinging has ceased. I’m hoping tomorrow will be slightly less stressful and our fellow course members will want to sit next to us at lunch and not be in fear of being bored with the ‘crap accommodation’ conversation again.
Although I will have one little moan. In my rush to pack and get back down to Richard Attenborough and his people carrier I forgot my pyjama’s which must have been neatly stashed away under my pillows or duvet when my bed was made. Or maybe they stole them out of spite. I’ll try claiming them back on expenses if I can find the Primark receipt from 2 years ago....
Monday 14 June 2010
Time Warp
Help me, I seem to have slipped into a time warp and travelled back to the 70’s. I’ve also somehow managed to walk into Fawlty Towers – no joke – Manuel took my bags up to my room, Basil is manning reception and Sybil served me my dinner. Welcome to The Grand Hotel in Swanage.
So it all seemed to start off well, our cabbie Gary picked us up at 3pm at work assuring us he could get us to the hotel in 2 ½ hours. There was me, Ginger, the chick from HR (not Fuckwit) who’s expecting (a baby) who actually already has a nick name “Swim” so I’ll stick to that and a guy from Finance whom none of us knew but seems like a sound guy. He’s a Saffa but he’s camp as Christmas with a wicked sense of humour so I’ll call him Kenneth.
I fell asleep for most of the journey and none of us really perked up until the cabbie started to get lost around Poole. He was relying on the sat nav which seemed to be taking him anywhere but the place he wanted to go (at one point we turned into a pub car park and not the motorway – I mean I haven’t done ‘The Knowledge’ but even I know the difference between the M3 and a Harvester) and eventually rocked up at a ferry port. After enquiring from a guy in the queue we discovered that you could get to Swanage across the water so Gary took a chance and we hopped on board. Then followed a 10 minute journey through noman’s land with Gary joking that every shack we passed was our hotel and Swim asking if we were in Wales (she got a bit confused and thought we were going to Swansea....)
Finally we pull up at The Grand. Hmmmm, maybe back in 1968 it would be classed as that but nowadays I think it’s somewhat lacking in living up to its name. The sign outside boasts 3 stars no less, again, not sure when that was awarded. Gary found this all rather hilarious and was still laughing as he got back in his cab to start his journey back to civilisation. He’s meant to be picking us up on Thursday as well but he may still be driving round the countryside trying to find the ferry port at that point.
At check in we discover we are all on the 3rd (top floor) and that the lift is broken. Joy. Also breakfast is served at 8am – the time when we are meant to be collected by our cab to take us to the venue for the course. Great. Oh but we can request a continental breakfast in our rooms before then – toast and cereal for me then. Fuck that, I want my full English, even if it does make me feel queasy at 7.30am. Manuel helps us to our rooms as we make our way up the grand staircase with drapes and some amazing art work on the walls. We’re trying not to laugh too much at the whicker chairs on the stairwells and the creaking floor boards. I hope my room has a sea view....
I enter my room which smells....old. You know, musty, mouldy, damp, like death. I am thrown back to the hotel rooms we stayed in in Wollocombe Bay when I was 8 and nothing has changed. I have taken some photo’s on my phone and will try my hardest to get them on to my computer but can’t promise anything. For now you’ll have to do with a detailed description:
As you come in the room to the right is my dressing table with the most retro hair dryer I have ever seen. Kenneth thought it was a lamp. I also have the standard tea tray with coffee etc on it and a box of tissues. To the left is a very nice green chair with coverings on it like the ones you get at weddings. I have a wardrobe and what appears to be a Hobbit’s wardrobe as well. The bed seems ok but I threw the scatter cushions on the floor, worried what stains and bed bugs might be festering in them. On the bed side table is a lovely, tobacco stained radio alarm clock and some wonderful matching furniture.
The bathroom has a slanting ceiling (as we are living in the roof) which I keep banging my head on. My shower is the highlight of the room – green on the base with the shower head thrown nonchalantly onto the floor. I’m scared to get into the shower, I think I might come out dirtier than when I got in. I don’t even want to put my shampoo bottle in there.
About 5 minutes later Ginger is knocking on my door, she’s not happy. Whilst she doesn’t have a green shower her toilet doesn’t appear to flush and she is worried she might catch something nasty from walking around barefoot in her room. I am hysterically laughing at this point – well if you don’t laugh?
Fuck unpacking, I’m not hanging anything in that Hobbit cupboard so we hot foot it down to the bar where the lady serving seems confused over everything she is asked for. The guy before me asks for a Fosters top and she starts pouring out a bitter which he has to point out she is doing. I order Ginger a vodka and diet coke and she starts opening a bottle of tonic water...
On the plus side the view from the ‘conservatory’ is lovely, an amazing beach and seafront but it is pissing it with rain. Another thing is that this place is the most boiling hot place I have ever stayed. They seem to have the heating up full for the middle of June. I had to open all the windows in my room just so I could breathe and have been walking round in a t-shirt all evening.
Dinner was actually really good and we all took advantage and had the 3 courses. Also, the drinkers had a glass of wine with the meal which they asked if we wanted ‘put on our room tab’ – er ok. At the end of the meal I questioned reception and discovered work had paid for the meal but no drinks with it. Soon put a fucking fix to that, Swim will be on the case in the morning to Fuckwit to warn her she will be paying for our meal drinks minimum. Otherwise I am kicking off again, she has us in this hole the least she can do is shout me a glass of wine with my steak (oh yes I am ordering all of the most expensive meals).
Swim and Ginger went to bed at 9.30pm and me and Kenneth had another drink in the bar and he went off at 10pm. Part-ay. At the moment I am sat here making the most of the free Wi-Fi (only available in the ‘lounge’ (literally, I tried it in the next room 3 foot away and it didn’t work) with “Sealed With a Kiss” playing drearily in the background. All the OAPs have finished watching the football and gone to bed and I am alone apart from a group of suits having a business meeting and a Spanish family.
I should go to bed as my ‘continental’ breakfast is being brought to my room at 7.30am but I don’t want to go back up there. Don’t make me. I’m sure someone probably died in my bed at some point and from the look of it something is living in my shower.
I’ll report back tomorrow on Day 2 if I haven’t been murdered in my sleep or knocked myself out on the ceiling in my bathroom.
So it all seemed to start off well, our cabbie Gary picked us up at 3pm at work assuring us he could get us to the hotel in 2 ½ hours. There was me, Ginger, the chick from HR (not Fuckwit) who’s expecting (a baby) who actually already has a nick name “Swim” so I’ll stick to that and a guy from Finance whom none of us knew but seems like a sound guy. He’s a Saffa but he’s camp as Christmas with a wicked sense of humour so I’ll call him Kenneth.
I fell asleep for most of the journey and none of us really perked up until the cabbie started to get lost around Poole. He was relying on the sat nav which seemed to be taking him anywhere but the place he wanted to go (at one point we turned into a pub car park and not the motorway – I mean I haven’t done ‘The Knowledge’ but even I know the difference between the M3 and a Harvester) and eventually rocked up at a ferry port. After enquiring from a guy in the queue we discovered that you could get to Swanage across the water so Gary took a chance and we hopped on board. Then followed a 10 minute journey through noman’s land with Gary joking that every shack we passed was our hotel and Swim asking if we were in Wales (she got a bit confused and thought we were going to Swansea....)
Finally we pull up at The Grand. Hmmmm, maybe back in 1968 it would be classed as that but nowadays I think it’s somewhat lacking in living up to its name. The sign outside boasts 3 stars no less, again, not sure when that was awarded. Gary found this all rather hilarious and was still laughing as he got back in his cab to start his journey back to civilisation. He’s meant to be picking us up on Thursday as well but he may still be driving round the countryside trying to find the ferry port at that point.
At check in we discover we are all on the 3rd (top floor) and that the lift is broken. Joy. Also breakfast is served at 8am – the time when we are meant to be collected by our cab to take us to the venue for the course. Great. Oh but we can request a continental breakfast in our rooms before then – toast and cereal for me then. Fuck that, I want my full English, even if it does make me feel queasy at 7.30am. Manuel helps us to our rooms as we make our way up the grand staircase with drapes and some amazing art work on the walls. We’re trying not to laugh too much at the whicker chairs on the stairwells and the creaking floor boards. I hope my room has a sea view....
I enter my room which smells....old. You know, musty, mouldy, damp, like death. I am thrown back to the hotel rooms we stayed in in Wollocombe Bay when I was 8 and nothing has changed. I have taken some photo’s on my phone and will try my hardest to get them on to my computer but can’t promise anything. For now you’ll have to do with a detailed description:
As you come in the room to the right is my dressing table with the most retro hair dryer I have ever seen. Kenneth thought it was a lamp. I also have the standard tea tray with coffee etc on it and a box of tissues. To the left is a very nice green chair with coverings on it like the ones you get at weddings. I have a wardrobe and what appears to be a Hobbit’s wardrobe as well. The bed seems ok but I threw the scatter cushions on the floor, worried what stains and bed bugs might be festering in them. On the bed side table is a lovely, tobacco stained radio alarm clock and some wonderful matching furniture.
The bathroom has a slanting ceiling (as we are living in the roof) which I keep banging my head on. My shower is the highlight of the room – green on the base with the shower head thrown nonchalantly onto the floor. I’m scared to get into the shower, I think I might come out dirtier than when I got in. I don’t even want to put my shampoo bottle in there.
About 5 minutes later Ginger is knocking on my door, she’s not happy. Whilst she doesn’t have a green shower her toilet doesn’t appear to flush and she is worried she might catch something nasty from walking around barefoot in her room. I am hysterically laughing at this point – well if you don’t laugh?
Fuck unpacking, I’m not hanging anything in that Hobbit cupboard so we hot foot it down to the bar where the lady serving seems confused over everything she is asked for. The guy before me asks for a Fosters top and she starts pouring out a bitter which he has to point out she is doing. I order Ginger a vodka and diet coke and she starts opening a bottle of tonic water...
On the plus side the view from the ‘conservatory’ is lovely, an amazing beach and seafront but it is pissing it with rain. Another thing is that this place is the most boiling hot place I have ever stayed. They seem to have the heating up full for the middle of June. I had to open all the windows in my room just so I could breathe and have been walking round in a t-shirt all evening.
Dinner was actually really good and we all took advantage and had the 3 courses. Also, the drinkers had a glass of wine with the meal which they asked if we wanted ‘put on our room tab’ – er ok. At the end of the meal I questioned reception and discovered work had paid for the meal but no drinks with it. Soon put a fucking fix to that, Swim will be on the case in the morning to Fuckwit to warn her she will be paying for our meal drinks minimum. Otherwise I am kicking off again, she has us in this hole the least she can do is shout me a glass of wine with my steak (oh yes I am ordering all of the most expensive meals).
Swim and Ginger went to bed at 9.30pm and me and Kenneth had another drink in the bar and he went off at 10pm. Part-ay. At the moment I am sat here making the most of the free Wi-Fi (only available in the ‘lounge’ (literally, I tried it in the next room 3 foot away and it didn’t work) with “Sealed With a Kiss” playing drearily in the background. All the OAPs have finished watching the football and gone to bed and I am alone apart from a group of suits having a business meeting and a Spanish family.
I should go to bed as my ‘continental’ breakfast is being brought to my room at 7.30am but I don’t want to go back up there. Don’t make me. I’m sure someone probably died in my bed at some point and from the look of it something is living in my shower.
I’ll report back tomorrow on Day 2 if I haven’t been murdered in my sleep or knocked myself out on the ceiling in my bathroom.
Friday 11 June 2010
Lune de la Singe
Just found out that Moon Monkey is taking French lessons!
Pause for hysterical laughter and clutching of ribs and hyperventilating……oohh….oohhhh….it hurts….
A lady in casual wear was shown into one of the meeting rooms by Lune de la Singe (apologies in advance for my butchering of the language of lurve) and so I asked Kirstie who she was. After a quick check of his diary and a jogging of her brain she realised this was in fact his French teacher!
Once again pause for hysterical laughter and clutching of ribs and hyperventilating……oohh….oohhhh….it still hurts….
Oh to be a fly on the wall in that classroom! I can barely understand him in English half the time because he mumbles so much and that thick Irish accent so we can but only imagine what he is sounding like in French! I long to secretly place a dictaphone in the room with them and record his struggled attempts at verbs, simple greetings and asking the way to the library (why was that always such an important key phrase to learn?). As he is scolded by his teacher for his mispronunciation and his frustration at his 27th attempt to tell us how his name is Moon Monkey and he has a pet rabbit called Gerald.
We assume he is learning la French because of the many business trips to said country and others that have this as their native tongue. When I mentioned it to my friend she offered up the idea he might want to have some private conversations with FB. That for some reason had never crossed my mind – probably because I subconsciously block her out. It’s a possibility though, she has been very chatty with him today (in fact she has barely shut up, it’s like she’s swallowed a tape recorder or something – “oh la la!”) and flirting and bum sucking outrageously. It’s a horrific sight to behold and I have been close at certain points in the day to walking over, slapping her and screaming “HAVE YOU NO SHAME YOU HIDEOUS PIXIE TROLL DEMON WOMAN?!” Luckily she predictably snuck out as soon as Moon Monkey had headed off to the airport so the afternoon has been a lot more peaceful.
I have a feeling that if MM does intend to use French to woo FB then he might fail terribly in his quest.
“Er, vou….vou….voulezz vous coucheeeerrrr av….av…ave…..er with moi to be sure?”
No doubt she pretend he had conquered her native tongue (ew I just read that back, it sounds very wrong), that his dulcet tones were comparable to Gerard Depardieu and jump into the sack with him anyway.
“No, no Lune de la Singe, do not speak, just…take me!!”
Barf. You guys have the luck of not knowing what either of these people look like and so can not begin to imagine the rank scene playing out in my head. MAKE IT STOP! Shudder.
Funnily enough after the lesson I asked him to sign something for me and totally unintentionally said “merci!” when he did it. He mumbled a badly pronounced “beaucoup” with no attempt at a French accent and said “see I am learning!” Bless. I just nodded sympathetically and walked away.
Au revoir!
Pause for hysterical laughter and clutching of ribs and hyperventilating……oohh….oohhhh….it hurts….
A lady in casual wear was shown into one of the meeting rooms by Lune de la Singe (apologies in advance for my butchering of the language of lurve) and so I asked Kirstie who she was. After a quick check of his diary and a jogging of her brain she realised this was in fact his French teacher!
Once again pause for hysterical laughter and clutching of ribs and hyperventilating……oohh….oohhhh….it still hurts….
Oh to be a fly on the wall in that classroom! I can barely understand him in English half the time because he mumbles so much and that thick Irish accent so we can but only imagine what he is sounding like in French! I long to secretly place a dictaphone in the room with them and record his struggled attempts at verbs, simple greetings and asking the way to the library (why was that always such an important key phrase to learn?). As he is scolded by his teacher for his mispronunciation and his frustration at his 27th attempt to tell us how his name is Moon Monkey and he has a pet rabbit called Gerald.
We assume he is learning la French because of the many business trips to said country and others that have this as their native tongue. When I mentioned it to my friend she offered up the idea he might want to have some private conversations with FB. That for some reason had never crossed my mind – probably because I subconsciously block her out. It’s a possibility though, she has been very chatty with him today (in fact she has barely shut up, it’s like she’s swallowed a tape recorder or something – “oh la la!”) and flirting and bum sucking outrageously. It’s a horrific sight to behold and I have been close at certain points in the day to walking over, slapping her and screaming “HAVE YOU NO SHAME YOU HIDEOUS PIXIE TROLL DEMON WOMAN?!” Luckily she predictably snuck out as soon as Moon Monkey had headed off to the airport so the afternoon has been a lot more peaceful.
I have a feeling that if MM does intend to use French to woo FB then he might fail terribly in his quest.
“Er, vou….vou….voulezz vous coucheeeerrrr av….av…ave…..er with moi to be sure?”
No doubt she pretend he had conquered her native tongue (ew I just read that back, it sounds very wrong), that his dulcet tones were comparable to Gerard Depardieu and jump into the sack with him anyway.
“No, no Lune de la Singe, do not speak, just…take me!!”
Barf. You guys have the luck of not knowing what either of these people look like and so can not begin to imagine the rank scene playing out in my head. MAKE IT STOP! Shudder.
Funnily enough after the lesson I asked him to sign something for me and totally unintentionally said “merci!” when he did it. He mumbled a badly pronounced “beaucoup” with no attempt at a French accent and said “see I am learning!” Bless. I just nodded sympathetically and walked away.
Au revoir!
Thursday 10 June 2010
Grump
Moody City here today, including yours truly. Maybe it’s catching as I actually walked into the office in quite a good mood this morning? Kirstie is being a right old whinger and keeps getting me to smack her with a wooden spoon every time she does (don’t ask). She’s very busy but we all know this and it’s starting to hack me off every time she opens her mouth to complain about someone or stress about something. I think she might even be sighing louder than CJ.
CJ is off this week so it could be the lack of her whinging means everyone feels they have to up the anti to compensate for the lack of negativity in the room. Gunner and Ginger have been ranting all day about this new system the big wigs are installing and how they want them to transfer over 1000’s of lines of information from the old system. Gunner can be quite ‘old school’ for a young(er) guy in the office, one of those people who fears change, so any talk of the system and it’s all moan, moan, “it won’t work” etc etc. Yes it’s shit but just shut up and get on with it because the moaning is only going to lengthen the process and make it all the more painful. But they don’t, they hope it will all go away and be forgotten about – which I know from experience never happens.
I feel for them as I have been on data entry duty today. Another factor for my mood I think, data entry tends to suck the life and soul from me and leave me bereft of caring. Today so much in fact that I have been deleting emails from companies who haven’t given me enough information for the database. “No address? No website? Fuck off then!” I can’t bring the enthusiasm to pen an email asking for this information and they look like some dodgy company run off the back of a wagon so sod it. Makes my job a whole lot quicker. It’s partly my fault as I have let the emails build up from about 4 weeks ago and just ignored them. So when I logged in today there was 50 plus to go through. Oh how my heart sank. I have been busy though rather than procrastinating as usual.
I think the break er, I mean training in Dorset next week will be a nice break from the norm. Hell I’d rather sit in a cab for the entire duration of the course rather than sit here typing names and addresses I can’t find into little boxes. Getting some fresh air (undoubtedly in the torrential rain) along the coast line on field trips and seeing the sights of Swanage with the odd cream tea and deck chair thrown in. Hopefully I won’t need my wooden spoon. I shall return refreshed and raring to go! Full of industry knowledge! Bring on the data!
I think I might be slightly delirious, I can see spreadsheets swimming in front of my eyes and phrases such as “Dear Sirs and Madams” and “I am hoping you are good health and life!” going round in my head. Time for a jaffa cake.
CJ is off this week so it could be the lack of her whinging means everyone feels they have to up the anti to compensate for the lack of negativity in the room. Gunner and Ginger have been ranting all day about this new system the big wigs are installing and how they want them to transfer over 1000’s of lines of information from the old system. Gunner can be quite ‘old school’ for a young(er) guy in the office, one of those people who fears change, so any talk of the system and it’s all moan, moan, “it won’t work” etc etc. Yes it’s shit but just shut up and get on with it because the moaning is only going to lengthen the process and make it all the more painful. But they don’t, they hope it will all go away and be forgotten about – which I know from experience never happens.
I feel for them as I have been on data entry duty today. Another factor for my mood I think, data entry tends to suck the life and soul from me and leave me bereft of caring. Today so much in fact that I have been deleting emails from companies who haven’t given me enough information for the database. “No address? No website? Fuck off then!” I can’t bring the enthusiasm to pen an email asking for this information and they look like some dodgy company run off the back of a wagon so sod it. Makes my job a whole lot quicker. It’s partly my fault as I have let the emails build up from about 4 weeks ago and just ignored them. So when I logged in today there was 50 plus to go through. Oh how my heart sank. I have been busy though rather than procrastinating as usual.
I think the break er, I mean training in Dorset next week will be a nice break from the norm. Hell I’d rather sit in a cab for the entire duration of the course rather than sit here typing names and addresses I can’t find into little boxes. Getting some fresh air (undoubtedly in the torrential rain) along the coast line on field trips and seeing the sights of Swanage with the odd cream tea and deck chair thrown in. Hopefully I won’t need my wooden spoon. I shall return refreshed and raring to go! Full of industry knowledge! Bring on the data!
I think I might be slightly delirious, I can see spreadsheets swimming in front of my eyes and phrases such as “Dear Sirs and Madams” and “I am hoping you are good health and life!” going round in my head. Time for a jaffa cake.
Wednesday 9 June 2010
Piss up in a brewery? She’d have trouble planning one
Busy few days at the office darling, sorry I haven’t been home for dinner or in time to tuck the kids up in bed – you know how it is. I’m here now though, that’s the important thing.
Bit of a trauma over this residential course I’m going to next week. Yes, next week, it’s snuck up on us hasn’t it? After all of the originally hoo ha over who was going when and we thankfully got rid of CJ (she’s on annual leave this week painting her fence or some other such enthralling activity) I thought it was sorted but it turns out I was very wrong. I shall enlighten you the events of the past 24 hours….
Last week I emailed the girl in HR organising the course for us plebs to attend, I’ll call her Fuckwit (oh how amusing, the word fuckwit doesn’t appear to get spell-checked, anyway I digress…) because that will give you a good idea of her working skills, brain capacity and general personality. I did a first aid course with her earlier this year and let’s just say she doesn’t catch on quickly and I hope I’m never the victim of a work-based accident when she’s around. The girl’s qualified to operate a defibulator for Christ’s sakes! Scary. Fuckwit was asked to put me and Ginger on this course in Dorset back in April. We never got a confirmation for this but she did email me telling me to ‘pencil it in my diary’. Seeing as it wasn’t a booking for a holiday to the Maldives or tickets for Reading Festival I didn’t bother to check any further – no skin off my nose if I don’t go. Ginger and I hear nothing further from Fuckwit or anyone in HR so last week this email I sent was asking her for an itinerary and travel information. Things we probably should have received a while back.
So I wait and Ginger waits and we hear nothing. I try calling Fuckwit but no answer, Ginger sends her an email and still nothing. Ginger emails AGAIN and still nothing and she’s not responding to calls. Yesterday I say to Ginger I’ll give Fuckwit until Thursday and then I’m kicking off. In the afternoon an email arrives:
Dear all
You are now registered to attend the above course, on the 15-17 June. The course starts at 8:30am in Dorset on Tuesday 15th, so I’d recommend travelling down the day before – in the past; attendees have left the office for 3pm, aiming to get to the hotel for dinner.
(Damn, there go my plans for Monday night – thanks for the heads up Fuckwit)
I’ve booked you accommodation at a nearby hotel, but please note that the course will be held at a different venue.
(Er, I’m sorry? Why aren’t we staying at the hotel it’s being held in? WTF?)
Please note that accommodation has been booked for you for three nights, checking in on Monday 14th June, and checking out on Thursday 17th June - we've pre-paid for dinner B&B, but you will need to pay for extra’s (drinks at the bar, newspapers, etc).
(Hotel priced drinks out of my own pocket? Well there goes the piss up unless there’s a Morrisons near by….)
I doubt the hotel will have a cash point nearby,
(or any form of civilisation?)
so if you need cash for any reason, please take some with you.
Taxi’s
The nearest rail station to both venues is Wareham Rail. There isn’t a taxi rank when you arrive at the station, so please pre-book taxi’s using the number on the attachment.
(Is that not your job Fuckwit? Hang on, rail station? So you want me to book a train ticket down there now as well? What happened to the cabs we were promised?)
I’ve booked cabs to transport you between the hotel and training venue, on these dates and times (the driver will wait for you just by reception):
· Tuesday – 8am pick up at the Hotel to Training Venue, 6:45pm pick up at the Training Venue to the Hotel
· Wednesday - 8am pick up at the Hotel to Training Venue, 6pm pick up at the Training Venue to the Hotel
· Thursday - 8am pick up at the Hotel to Training Venue, 3pm pick up at the Training Venue to Wareham Rail
(8am cabs?! How far away is this hotel from the training venue? Are we staying in London?!)
Joining Instructions
The course provider has sent through the attached joining instructions. Given the daily field trips, I wanted to highlight that the dress code is definitely casual. Please read the joining instructions!
(Which she clearly didn’t as they contradict everything in this email)
Any questions let me know. I’m passing on my personal mobile number – just in case you need to get hold of me.
(Or maybe send threatening text messages?)
Thanks, and have fun.
Fuckwit
Right then, lets regroup here. We’re staying a different hotel, where’s that then? Oh look it’s in Swanage 11 miles away. And why are we staying in a hotel 11 miles away when the course provider has very kindly given the names and numbers of many hotels within a 2 mile radius of the training venue? Because apparently Fuckwit forgot all about this course until my email arrived in her inbox last week and has been flying around trying to book accommodation because the training venue and all those other hotels are booked up (I have an inside contact in HR who is also coming to Dorset). Great, slow hand clap for her then.
In the attachment from the course provider they also mention a meal for all the delegates on the Wednesday night yet Fuckwit has us being ferried back to Swanage a 6pm. We’re not allowed to go then are we? And why does this attachment say we start at 9am not 8.30am? And finish at 4pm on Thursday and not 3pm? Time for an email again….
Now all of this I can kind of deal with, it’s not the end of the world after all. It’s annoying and unorganised and knowing that it’s only because Fuckwit wasn’t doing her job irritates the shit out of me but there we are, at least we’re in a nice hotel on the beach (although it does look as though the rest of the guests staying there will be 65+ and having cream teas on deckchairs). But what I am really not happy about is having to book a train ticket less than a week before we go. After a quick search on the web I discover this will set me back £100+ Money I would eventually get back on expenses but money I don’t have in my pocket to fork out in the first place. I am now ranting at Ginger about this who agrees whole heartedly having just bought a house that it’s cash she doesn’t have.
Luckily Kirstie overhears all this and asks if I want her to find out how much a cab is. Sure, why not? There are 4 of us going so as long as it’s close to £400 return then it’s still ok right? She comes back to me with a quote of £275 each way, shit. But Kirstie isn’t done so she has the receptionist put it to the head of facilities. Meanwhile I’m emailing my inside contact in HR and she responds with “ooh the head of facilities has just dragged Fuckwit into a meeting room”.
10 minutes later we get this email:
Hi all – apologies for all the emails.
I’ve now booked a car for you for the journey to and from Dorset which will collect you from in front of the office at 3pm on Monday and drop you back here on Thursday after the course is finished.
This car has been pre-paid for the journey.
Thanks
Fuckwit
Seems like Kirstie’s cab enquiry has got back to the big bosses and they have asked Fuckwit why travel hasn’t been arranged in advance. In other words she’s got a bollocking and had to arrange a return cab journey for us 4 for £550 – ouch! Too feckin’ right, dopey cow – what did she expect?
I plan to get down there, find out the actual times for the course, where this evening meal is being held and re-arrange all the cab bookings to suit. I’m also going to take full advantage of the free health club and gym in our hotel and drink as much free wine as is possible during the evening meals (and breakfast if it’s on offer). I also plan to take my laptop (wi-fi available for a modest charge according to the website) so I shall try to keep you updated on the days events and our various cab journeys, pending my alcoholic state each evening.
What’s the betting we turn up Monday night, aren’t booked in at the hotel and have to sleep on the beach?
Bit of a trauma over this residential course I’m going to next week. Yes, next week, it’s snuck up on us hasn’t it? After all of the originally hoo ha over who was going when and we thankfully got rid of CJ (she’s on annual leave this week painting her fence or some other such enthralling activity) I thought it was sorted but it turns out I was very wrong. I shall enlighten you the events of the past 24 hours….
Last week I emailed the girl in HR organising the course for us plebs to attend, I’ll call her Fuckwit (oh how amusing, the word fuckwit doesn’t appear to get spell-checked, anyway I digress…) because that will give you a good idea of her working skills, brain capacity and general personality. I did a first aid course with her earlier this year and let’s just say she doesn’t catch on quickly and I hope I’m never the victim of a work-based accident when she’s around. The girl’s qualified to operate a defibulator for Christ’s sakes! Scary. Fuckwit was asked to put me and Ginger on this course in Dorset back in April. We never got a confirmation for this but she did email me telling me to ‘pencil it in my diary’. Seeing as it wasn’t a booking for a holiday to the Maldives or tickets for Reading Festival I didn’t bother to check any further – no skin off my nose if I don’t go. Ginger and I hear nothing further from Fuckwit or anyone in HR so last week this email I sent was asking her for an itinerary and travel information. Things we probably should have received a while back.
So I wait and Ginger waits and we hear nothing. I try calling Fuckwit but no answer, Ginger sends her an email and still nothing. Ginger emails AGAIN and still nothing and she’s not responding to calls. Yesterday I say to Ginger I’ll give Fuckwit until Thursday and then I’m kicking off. In the afternoon an email arrives:
Dear all
You are now registered to attend the above course, on the 15-17 June. The course starts at 8:30am in Dorset on Tuesday 15th, so I’d recommend travelling down the day before – in the past; attendees have left the office for 3pm, aiming to get to the hotel for dinner.
(Damn, there go my plans for Monday night – thanks for the heads up Fuckwit)
I’ve booked you accommodation at a nearby hotel, but please note that the course will be held at a different venue.
(Er, I’m sorry? Why aren’t we staying at the hotel it’s being held in? WTF?)
Please note that accommodation has been booked for you for three nights, checking in on Monday 14th June, and checking out on Thursday 17th June - we've pre-paid for dinner B&B, but you will need to pay for extra’s (drinks at the bar, newspapers, etc).
(Hotel priced drinks out of my own pocket? Well there goes the piss up unless there’s a Morrisons near by….)
I doubt the hotel will have a cash point nearby,
(or any form of civilisation?)
so if you need cash for any reason, please take some with you.
Taxi’s
The nearest rail station to both venues is Wareham Rail. There isn’t a taxi rank when you arrive at the station, so please pre-book taxi’s using the number on the attachment.
(Is that not your job Fuckwit? Hang on, rail station? So you want me to book a train ticket down there now as well? What happened to the cabs we were promised?)
I’ve booked cabs to transport you between the hotel and training venue, on these dates and times (the driver will wait for you just by reception):
· Tuesday – 8am pick up at the Hotel to Training Venue, 6:45pm pick up at the Training Venue to the Hotel
· Wednesday - 8am pick up at the Hotel to Training Venue, 6pm pick up at the Training Venue to the Hotel
· Thursday - 8am pick up at the Hotel to Training Venue, 3pm pick up at the Training Venue to Wareham Rail
(8am cabs?! How far away is this hotel from the training venue? Are we staying in London?!)
Joining Instructions
The course provider has sent through the attached joining instructions. Given the daily field trips, I wanted to highlight that the dress code is definitely casual. Please read the joining instructions!
(Which she clearly didn’t as they contradict everything in this email)
Any questions let me know. I’m passing on my personal mobile number – just in case you need to get hold of me.
(Or maybe send threatening text messages?)
Thanks, and have fun.
Fuckwit
Right then, lets regroup here. We’re staying a different hotel, where’s that then? Oh look it’s in Swanage 11 miles away. And why are we staying in a hotel 11 miles away when the course provider has very kindly given the names and numbers of many hotels within a 2 mile radius of the training venue? Because apparently Fuckwit forgot all about this course until my email arrived in her inbox last week and has been flying around trying to book accommodation because the training venue and all those other hotels are booked up (I have an inside contact in HR who is also coming to Dorset). Great, slow hand clap for her then.
In the attachment from the course provider they also mention a meal for all the delegates on the Wednesday night yet Fuckwit has us being ferried back to Swanage a 6pm. We’re not allowed to go then are we? And why does this attachment say we start at 9am not 8.30am? And finish at 4pm on Thursday and not 3pm? Time for an email again….
Now all of this I can kind of deal with, it’s not the end of the world after all. It’s annoying and unorganised and knowing that it’s only because Fuckwit wasn’t doing her job irritates the shit out of me but there we are, at least we’re in a nice hotel on the beach (although it does look as though the rest of the guests staying there will be 65+ and having cream teas on deckchairs). But what I am really not happy about is having to book a train ticket less than a week before we go. After a quick search on the web I discover this will set me back £100+ Money I would eventually get back on expenses but money I don’t have in my pocket to fork out in the first place. I am now ranting at Ginger about this who agrees whole heartedly having just bought a house that it’s cash she doesn’t have.
Luckily Kirstie overhears all this and asks if I want her to find out how much a cab is. Sure, why not? There are 4 of us going so as long as it’s close to £400 return then it’s still ok right? She comes back to me with a quote of £275 each way, shit. But Kirstie isn’t done so she has the receptionist put it to the head of facilities. Meanwhile I’m emailing my inside contact in HR and she responds with “ooh the head of facilities has just dragged Fuckwit into a meeting room”.
10 minutes later we get this email:
Hi all – apologies for all the emails.
I’ve now booked a car for you for the journey to and from Dorset which will collect you from in front of the office at 3pm on Monday and drop you back here on Thursday after the course is finished.
This car has been pre-paid for the journey.
Thanks
Fuckwit
Seems like Kirstie’s cab enquiry has got back to the big bosses and they have asked Fuckwit why travel hasn’t been arranged in advance. In other words she’s got a bollocking and had to arrange a return cab journey for us 4 for £550 – ouch! Too feckin’ right, dopey cow – what did she expect?
I plan to get down there, find out the actual times for the course, where this evening meal is being held and re-arrange all the cab bookings to suit. I’m also going to take full advantage of the free health club and gym in our hotel and drink as much free wine as is possible during the evening meals (and breakfast if it’s on offer). I also plan to take my laptop (wi-fi available for a modest charge according to the website) so I shall try to keep you updated on the days events and our various cab journeys, pending my alcoholic state each evening.
What’s the betting we turn up Monday night, aren’t booked in at the hotel and have to sleep on the beach?
Friday 4 June 2010
I wish I could turn back time….
The stalking has come to an end (hopefully) and I must say I’m quite glad. As hilarious as Chan’s messages have been I am starting to get concerned at his psycho comments and perseverance. Some people have offered to ‘sort him out’ for me which I think is a little unnecessary but I’m holding that in reserve just in case he goes all single, Asian male on me.
The parting message was sent to me last night titled: “I should have come to my senses a long time ago.” Do read on and please check out the link to the song he has posted, it will be worth your while, but possibly not 8 minutes of your life (so I’m told)….
This song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BioGt4BY-fI&feature=related can express some of the things I wanted to say. However, it is a rather sad song and it might upset you. Beg a pardon for giving you nothing but trouble. Now, I just want to go get a job and get a life.
& Thanks, for you have been kind to me in some ways :) so wish you well.
Chan
Unfortunately at work I have no sound from my computer (the fascists have disabled it) and so can’t listen to this ‘upsetting tune’. I forwarded it to a friend who emailed me back saying “Do you know when you blow a funny fuse? When something is so funny, that you can’t laugh? That is what has just happened to me.” So now I am DESPERATE to hear this song!! I shall be firing up the lap top when I get home and tuning in that’s for sure. Apparently it sounds like someone has written and recorded it in their bedroom and is very, very bad. Some woman singing to the same tune repeated over and over again. The same mate has kindly typed out some of the lyrics from the first verse for me to give me a flavour of the serious stalkiness of this tune:
I let you down…
Been a fool to myself….
Through the hurt and pain …
Time for me to respect the ones you love more than anything…
Best thing I could do was end it all and leave foooorrreeeeeevvver
I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN, my love is ending
I wish I could turn back time….
Jesus, I think maybe I do have something to worry about! “My love is ending?”, “I wish I could turn back time?” – maybe I should be watching my back….
In a kind of flip sided way I have actually been dumped by my stalker. How sad is that? I didn’t even get to tell him to get lost, he’s given me the boot and moved on to a new obsession. I feel kind of hard done by, dumped by a FB message. Sigh.
The parting message was sent to me last night titled: “I should have come to my senses a long time ago.” Do read on and please check out the link to the song he has posted, it will be worth your while, but possibly not 8 minutes of your life (so I’m told)….
This song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BioGt4BY-fI&feature=related can express some of the things I wanted to say. However, it is a rather sad song and it might upset you. Beg a pardon for giving you nothing but trouble. Now, I just want to go get a job and get a life.
& Thanks, for you have been kind to me in some ways :) so wish you well.
Chan
Unfortunately at work I have no sound from my computer (the fascists have disabled it) and so can’t listen to this ‘upsetting tune’. I forwarded it to a friend who emailed me back saying “Do you know when you blow a funny fuse? When something is so funny, that you can’t laugh? That is what has just happened to me.” So now I am DESPERATE to hear this song!! I shall be firing up the lap top when I get home and tuning in that’s for sure. Apparently it sounds like someone has written and recorded it in their bedroom and is very, very bad. Some woman singing to the same tune repeated over and over again. The same mate has kindly typed out some of the lyrics from the first verse for me to give me a flavour of the serious stalkiness of this tune:
I let you down…
Been a fool to myself….
Through the hurt and pain …
Time for me to respect the ones you love more than anything…
Best thing I could do was end it all and leave foooorrreeeeeevvver
I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN, my love is ending
I wish I could turn back time….
Jesus, I think maybe I do have something to worry about! “My love is ending?”, “I wish I could turn back time?” – maybe I should be watching my back….
In a kind of flip sided way I have actually been dumped by my stalker. How sad is that? I didn’t even get to tell him to get lost, he’s given me the boot and moved on to a new obsession. I feel kind of hard done by, dumped by a FB message. Sigh.
Thursday 3 June 2010
Different types of pains in my arse
I ache today. I think it is the culmination of a lot of exercise over the past 3 days, including 2 games of netball yesterday. Ouch. Saffa is walking round like a cowboy as well and blaming the netball, although she did mention it could be something else….. Well she made Kirstie blush which is quite an achievement!
No Moon Monkey on the bench as yet, I can’t see that ever happening to be honest. Shame as I think it would be feckin’ hi-larious to see him bouncing about the court and getting the whistle blown at him every 10 seconds.
Not much else going on in the office currently, my new desk means I am far, far away from old CJ (she came round to see me yesterday asking if I was missing my old desk to which I said a resounding “no”) and so my stress levels have lifted somewhat, hence the lack of ranting recently. I know, I know you miss the ranting! Don’t worry I’m sure something new to rant about will pop up soon. Sitting next to Kirstie is quite comedy as she tends to sing random songs, make funny comments and gladly distract me from my work on a regular basis. She’s enjoying the saga of my Face Book stalker too (he asked me to go see Toy Story 3 with him today) but feels a bit sorry for poor Mr Chan. After she has stopped laughing at his messages that is.
FB seems to have disappeared this week. We’re not sure where to. It could be that last week was her week of trying to impress by turning up for work before 10am and sitting at her desk diligently (checking her emails and FB all day if what Kirstie saw when she walked past is anything to go by) and now this week she has fallen back into her usual routine of ‘working from home’. An odd thing happened when Kirstie went to talk to Moon Monkey about the office move we are having at Christmas (we’re moving buildings again – next door) and asked if she could sit closer to him in the new building to save her walking across the office every 3 minutes. He said “you can sit there” and gestured to FB’s desk so Kirstie said “but that’s FB’s desk” and he shrugged.
So now we’re wondering if this means a) she’s not coming back to use her desk, b) MM hates her that much that he would like to see her things moved without her knowing about it and Kirstie parked in there instead or c) he’s just a management retard who has no idea about office politics and that it might be deemed as ‘rude’ to just uproot a colleague because you like their chair and position by the window. I’m hoping for a, would love for b to happen just to see the look on FB’s face but am expecting c.
If she’s not coming back I’m sure this won’t be announced to the rest of us plebs for a good few weeks yet. Maybe I passing as an AOB point in next months team meeting. I would have loved the opportunity to say goodbye to her, give her a card, a gift, a hug, a smack in the face. She probably just sidled off because she knew no one would go to her leaving party. Ahhh, well I can carry on fantasising, I expect she will walk in the door any minute now.
No Moon Monkey on the bench as yet, I can’t see that ever happening to be honest. Shame as I think it would be feckin’ hi-larious to see him bouncing about the court and getting the whistle blown at him every 10 seconds.
Not much else going on in the office currently, my new desk means I am far, far away from old CJ (she came round to see me yesterday asking if I was missing my old desk to which I said a resounding “no”) and so my stress levels have lifted somewhat, hence the lack of ranting recently. I know, I know you miss the ranting! Don’t worry I’m sure something new to rant about will pop up soon. Sitting next to Kirstie is quite comedy as she tends to sing random songs, make funny comments and gladly distract me from my work on a regular basis. She’s enjoying the saga of my Face Book stalker too (he asked me to go see Toy Story 3 with him today) but feels a bit sorry for poor Mr Chan. After she has stopped laughing at his messages that is.
FB seems to have disappeared this week. We’re not sure where to. It could be that last week was her week of trying to impress by turning up for work before 10am and sitting at her desk diligently (checking her emails and FB all day if what Kirstie saw when she walked past is anything to go by) and now this week she has fallen back into her usual routine of ‘working from home’. An odd thing happened when Kirstie went to talk to Moon Monkey about the office move we are having at Christmas (we’re moving buildings again – next door) and asked if she could sit closer to him in the new building to save her walking across the office every 3 minutes. He said “you can sit there” and gestured to FB’s desk so Kirstie said “but that’s FB’s desk” and he shrugged.
So now we’re wondering if this means a) she’s not coming back to use her desk, b) MM hates her that much that he would like to see her things moved without her knowing about it and Kirstie parked in there instead or c) he’s just a management retard who has no idea about office politics and that it might be deemed as ‘rude’ to just uproot a colleague because you like their chair and position by the window. I’m hoping for a, would love for b to happen just to see the look on FB’s face but am expecting c.
If she’s not coming back I’m sure this won’t be announced to the rest of us plebs for a good few weeks yet. Maybe I passing as an AOB point in next months team meeting. I would have loved the opportunity to say goodbye to her, give her a card, a gift, a hug, a smack in the face. She probably just sidled off because she knew no one would go to her leaving party. Ahhh, well I can carry on fantasising, I expect she will walk in the door any minute now.
Wednesday 2 June 2010
Chan is back
I have received another Face Ache message from the ever attentive Mr Chan:
Watched a TV program called "The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister" with my sis (I am da young brother). Lots of things in my mind.
Wanted to be true to my feelings but got selfish. Yet I guess I am hoping for a second chance.
Chan
Now this made no sense whatsoever to me initially but then a friend emailed me a link to the TV program he mentions (purely coincidentally) and then some of it started to make sense, but not really. If you’re not in the know about Miss Anne Lister then Google her and you’ll find the BBC have just done a TV drama about her. Big old lesbian. In a nutshell.
So does he think I am a lesbian now or is he hoping I am so he can get together with me and my lady lover? Ew. Scrap that last thought. What was on his mind and why is it important I know that he was watching it with his sister? Double ew. This gets more creepy.
And what’s going on with that last sentence? “Wanted to be true to my feelings but got selfish.” Is he speaking in some kind of coded romantic lingo I’m not aware of? Anyone out there speak loved up geek?
As for hoping for a 2nd chance, when was his first chance? This guy is not taking the old “ignoring you for a reason” hint is he? Well this may mean I get some regular messages to keep me chuckling and then when he gets annoying there’s the good old block button which I do plan to use at some stage.
Although I’m not exactly batting them away with a stick at the moment, maybe I should keep my options open……?
Watched a TV program called "The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister" with my sis (I am da young brother). Lots of things in my mind.
Wanted to be true to my feelings but got selfish. Yet I guess I am hoping for a second chance.
Chan
Now this made no sense whatsoever to me initially but then a friend emailed me a link to the TV program he mentions (purely coincidentally) and then some of it started to make sense, but not really. If you’re not in the know about Miss Anne Lister then Google her and you’ll find the BBC have just done a TV drama about her. Big old lesbian. In a nutshell.
So does he think I am a lesbian now or is he hoping I am so he can get together with me and my lady lover? Ew. Scrap that last thought. What was on his mind and why is it important I know that he was watching it with his sister? Double ew. This gets more creepy.
And what’s going on with that last sentence? “Wanted to be true to my feelings but got selfish.” Is he speaking in some kind of coded romantic lingo I’m not aware of? Anyone out there speak loved up geek?
As for hoping for a 2nd chance, when was his first chance? This guy is not taking the old “ignoring you for a reason” hint is he? Well this may mean I get some regular messages to keep me chuckling and then when he gets annoying there’s the good old block button which I do plan to use at some stage.
Although I’m not exactly batting them away with a stick at the moment, maybe I should keep my options open……?
Tuesday 1 June 2010
“Give me an N!”
Tomorrow is the 2nd game of the season for the netball team here. Myself and Curly have discovered that it actually does take up quite a lot of your time captaining and managing a netball team, especially one that seems to have grown to 24 players. We have some keen people in the office this year and it seems everyone wants in on the action.
Normally I wouldn’t mind all the distraction, something to do, something to get my teeth into but I’m so busy with the day to day stuff it’s starting to get in the way of everything else. What’s that all about?! I mean yes it keeps me occupied and the day whizzes by and I’m at least using some of my brain cells again but then it’s also interfering with other activities such as my personal emails, checking of the book of face (I haven’t even been on the site today yet!), the all important writing of the blog, organising my social life and now the netball team to boot. This just won’t do, I’m going to have to start prioritising my workload as follows:
1) Emails to friends/family/non work-related matters
2) Blog writing
3) Planning my weekend
4) Checking Face Book at hourly intervals
5) Drinking tea
6) Netball
7) Actual work
At the moment 7 seems to have bumped itself up to 1 and 6 to 2. How many emails do you need to send about a netball game?! Many apparently. Curly also got quite excited about the new team t-shirts which we ended up designing a logo for and have arrived today; in fact she is really getting into it whereas I am starting to wish I had just agreed to play. See this is why I wouldn’t ever go for management, I seem to naturally shy away from responsibility and positions of power. I don’t think it’s genetic so maybe I am just lazy or too laid back for my own good? Probably. I’ll be the first to admit it. Curly’s all up for organising Monday night training now and that means staying late after work and putting together training sessions. Neither of us has put together or taken a training session in our lives! We reckon we can find most of it on the interweb anyway and I said to her I only foresee a handful of people rocking up to training anyway. Although one guy on the team has bought his own netball net! They’ll be expecting us to win games next!
It’s all very worrying, before you know it I’ll be up for employee of the month or something equally shocking.
Any hints or tips on running a netball team would be very welcome. Any hints and tips on how to get our of running a netball team even more so.
Normally I wouldn’t mind all the distraction, something to do, something to get my teeth into but I’m so busy with the day to day stuff it’s starting to get in the way of everything else. What’s that all about?! I mean yes it keeps me occupied and the day whizzes by and I’m at least using some of my brain cells again but then it’s also interfering with other activities such as my personal emails, checking of the book of face (I haven’t even been on the site today yet!), the all important writing of the blog, organising my social life and now the netball team to boot. This just won’t do, I’m going to have to start prioritising my workload as follows:
1) Emails to friends/family/non work-related matters
2) Blog writing
3) Planning my weekend
4) Checking Face Book at hourly intervals
5) Drinking tea
6) Netball
7) Actual work
At the moment 7 seems to have bumped itself up to 1 and 6 to 2. How many emails do you need to send about a netball game?! Many apparently. Curly also got quite excited about the new team t-shirts which we ended up designing a logo for and have arrived today; in fact she is really getting into it whereas I am starting to wish I had just agreed to play. See this is why I wouldn’t ever go for management, I seem to naturally shy away from responsibility and positions of power. I don’t think it’s genetic so maybe I am just lazy or too laid back for my own good? Probably. I’ll be the first to admit it. Curly’s all up for organising Monday night training now and that means staying late after work and putting together training sessions. Neither of us has put together or taken a training session in our lives! We reckon we can find most of it on the interweb anyway and I said to her I only foresee a handful of people rocking up to training anyway. Although one guy on the team has bought his own netball net! They’ll be expecting us to win games next!
It’s all very worrying, before you know it I’ll be up for employee of the month or something equally shocking.
Any hints or tips on running a netball team would be very welcome. Any hints and tips on how to get our of running a netball team even more so.
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