Today I had a great day at work.
Yes that’s right, you read that correctly. Toady was ace! It’s a Friday and its 4.30pm and I’m still here so that goes to show how good it has been!
Last night’s netball social turned into an unexpected drinking session as one of the lads from another department was leaving and down the pub as well. He had a tab on the bar which was being paid for by ‘the company’ and was waving it about encouraging us all to get a drink all evening. So we damn well did. We got food too but I only managed to get in on about 5 chips and a piece of pitta bread which probably wasn’t the hearty dinner I should have had to accompany the cider and rum (not mixed) I was drinking.
A bunch of the netball team showed up and some stayed and some left very early (LAME) and then we kind of mixed into the leaving party. The business park was setting up a fair ground for today and me and Curly after a few shandies ran down there demanding to be let on the rides already. Surprisingly they wouldn’t let us on. Probably something to do with the fact they were half built at the time and we were in no state to be flung around on a bit of rickety machinery. Curly was slurring a lot as well – tsk, try and handle your drink woman.
Eventually everyone tottered off home until there were 6 of us left, me, the girl from accounts with the loudest laugh ever and this Kiwi girl from Finance and then 3 of the lads from IT. It got to the point where they were clearing our table away (the actual table itself) and asking us to move our seats so they could take down the outside umbrellas. We left and one of the IT guys said he could get us served at a local hotel as he knew the manager (he’s a bit of a cocky arse) so we wandered down and guess what? They wouldn’t serve us. Kiwi was wobbling quite a bit at this point (we’d lost the laugher along the way) as well so the bar maid took one look at us and just shook her head. Probably for the best as it was midnight by then anyway.
I got home on 2 buses but Kiwi had to get back to flippin Brixton or somewhere – she’s only just emailed me now and is still very hungover. Apparently there was some pukage at work this morning, har har.
Everyone is accounted for this morning and there was no fighting and the whole evening cost me a tenner, so all in all a great success!
This morning was not so hot and it took me some time to make my way into work. I then spent an hour procrastinating, going round chatting to all the other drinkers from the night before and buying myself a bacon roll and coke. The rest of the day has been much the same in not much work getting done but a lot of fun being had.
We went to the funfair at 12.10pm (I was ready at 11.55am but we had to wait for Ginger – sigh) and came back into the office at 2.45pm. Possibly a new world record for lunch breaks but I’m not sure it counts as we only spent about 35 minutes of it in the pub. The fair was great. I went on both big rides which were those chairs on chains that go round and round up high and you swing your legs on and the big washing machine one where you spin round and stick to the wall. I went twice on the whizzy chair one. At first I wasn’t sure the hangover would go well with fun fair rides but it seems to have been the perfect combination! I did tell one of the receptionists on the washing machine ride how hung over I was as it started to spin and she spent most of it freaking I was going to barf all over her. As if I would. I have more class than that. Just.
They also had weasel racing (yes weasel racing) with Mabel and Sandra from the local weasel sanctuary (I didn’t realise such a thing existed) and I almost bought a weasel birthday card. I also learnt the tale of Richard Gere and a weasel today…well I never…. Anyway they also had a coconut shy, shooting gallery, pig racing (not real pigs), a band, a town crier, the thing where you hit something hard with a hammer and it rings a bell, free candy floss and ice cream and sweets and popcorn and a cake stall by the Women’s Institute and a BBQ. The temp girl won an inflatable football, Kirstie won a coconut and we all ate too much sweet stuff. Then we went to lunch and I had a bloody Mary hair of the dog and a steak sandwich.
It’s not all bad here really is it?
Friday, 23 July 2010
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Stranger danger
I think I am being groomed. Not in a dodgy ‘pervy old man offering me sweets or to see his puppies’ kind of way though, although it’s just as sneaky. I think I’m being groomed to become a fully fledged Moody or Saffa or Andre. There doesn’t seem to be a clause in there that says I have to be from New Zealand, cheat on my spouse or have a deep routed love for Orcs (that would make it far too interesting) but I could soon be on my way to an even more boring role in this department with…gulp….more responsibility.
I’ve notice over the past few weeks I’ve been asked to do some things that are not normally asked of me, take on extra contracts, sign this and that, cc’d in on particular emails. It’s all very sly and under the table but I’m on to them. There’s no pulling the wool over Nancy’s eyes. I’m fully prepared for Harley to pull me into a meeting room to discuss my ‘development needs’. How about my ‘just leave me the hell alone needs’? Huh?
In any other job the thought of progression or promotion might actually interest, nay excite me but here it just fills me with dread. Yes, what I do is boring as fudge and I long for the day my brain cells may be sparked into action by something * gasp * challenging but more of the boring is not what I was looking for. This grooming is paving the way for piles of tedious work (tedious in my eyes anyway, people like Saffa get quite animated about it but each to their own I suppose) and much more responsibility. It may also mean I have to actually talk to and have meetings with people from the ‘outside’. This is something I do not relish, it could also cost me in smarter work clothes, or maybe just a variation on the 4 outfits I currently have deemed as ‘work uniform’.
I need a counter-plan, something to throw them off the trail and get me back on the daily hum drum side of things. Possibly I have to start being shit at my job. But not too shit, I want to keep it as it pays for hookers, drugs and drink and if I stayed at home all day what would I have to write about?
Hmmmm, this requires some planning. I think a drink is needed, I’m off down the netball social to gather my thoughts….
I’ve notice over the past few weeks I’ve been asked to do some things that are not normally asked of me, take on extra contracts, sign this and that, cc’d in on particular emails. It’s all very sly and under the table but I’m on to them. There’s no pulling the wool over Nancy’s eyes. I’m fully prepared for Harley to pull me into a meeting room to discuss my ‘development needs’. How about my ‘just leave me the hell alone needs’? Huh?
In any other job the thought of progression or promotion might actually interest, nay excite me but here it just fills me with dread. Yes, what I do is boring as fudge and I long for the day my brain cells may be sparked into action by something * gasp * challenging but more of the boring is not what I was looking for. This grooming is paving the way for piles of tedious work (tedious in my eyes anyway, people like Saffa get quite animated about it but each to their own I suppose) and much more responsibility. It may also mean I have to actually talk to and have meetings with people from the ‘outside’. This is something I do not relish, it could also cost me in smarter work clothes, or maybe just a variation on the 4 outfits I currently have deemed as ‘work uniform’.
I need a counter-plan, something to throw them off the trail and get me back on the daily hum drum side of things. Possibly I have to start being shit at my job. But not too shit, I want to keep it as it pays for hookers, drugs and drink and if I stayed at home all day what would I have to write about?
Hmmmm, this requires some planning. I think a drink is needed, I’m off down the netball social to gather my thoughts….
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
P.S.
My training course with Dickface and Harley has been cancelled!! Hurrah! Looks like I’m being moved to the week after next – phew!
Sorry in all my moodiness it completely slipped my mind….
Sorry in all my moodiness it completely slipped my mind….
Plan B: Resort to violence
I wanted to blog yesterday but I was unable to because of Moody. Every time I tried to find a moment in my day to put finger to keyboard he would pop up again sprouting some guff about something or the other I have no interest in whatsoever. “Look how much they want to charge for this!” Who cares, just do the order already. “Can you look up this website?” You mean that website you have been on to and printed off information from? Why is it now deemed necessary for me to look it up again and why don’t you do it yourself rather than printing it off to bring round to me to do it? What’s that? Oh you think I actually take an interest in this shit? Sorry to disappoint but you are WRONG.
I was in a good mood today, well I was in an OK mood and not particularly pissed off about anything. Now I’m in a bad mood because Kirstie keeps accusing me of being in a bad mood when I’m not. OK so I am NOW but before when she was saying I was I wasn’t. If you follow me. This is because I have apparently got some kind of ‘moody face’ on me today. I think she may have mistook concentration for moody. Just to clear up any confusion that may arise from this she meant my ‘moody face’ as in the emotion not the person. Anyways all day I have had comments – “oh you’re not in a happy place today are you?”, “what’s up with you?”, “You’re very quiet” and on it goes. At first I was defending myself, trying to convince her of my non-bad mood, even trying to join in banter and force some joke or the other, then I remembered I don’t care what these people think and stopped bothering and started shrugging and then I eventually fell into a bad mood and no longer need to defend myself. Ironically she’s not saying anything now.
I normally wouldn’t mind so much as I can be a bit gobby and so being quiet would probably come across as unusual in my day to day workplace behaviour but after the shitty mood Kirstie was in yesterday I feel she is no place to judge.
In her defence she wasn’t having the best day, all that training malarkey was going tits up and she wasn’t feeling well but the whinging was getting to monumental levels that would soon create some kind of self destructing tornado of catalytic proportions or I would have lent over and smacked her full on in the face. The spoon was out and primed and it was more than a relief when she went home sick at lunch time. That was after an entire morning of sighs, whines, bitching, fretting and constantly going on about how ill she felt. I suggested she go home if she didn’t feel well and was met with a look that said “how can I when I have all this work to do and the world might explode if I don’t do it right now?!” But she carried on complaining…
Kirstie: Oh god I feel so sick
Me: You should go home
Kirstie: Oh I can’t I have too much to do
Me: But if you feel rough you should go, look after yourself
Kirstie: Well maybe later but I need to wipe Moon Monkey’s bottom first
10 minutes later:
Kirstie: Oh god I feel so sick
Me: You should go home
Kirstie: Oh I can’t I have too much to do
Me: But if you feel rough you should go, look after yourself
Kirstie: But the world may end if I’m not here whinging all day
10 minutes later:
Kirstie: Oh god I feel so sick
Me: You should go home
Kirstie: Oh I can’t I have too much to do
Me: Fine but shut the fuck up saying you are ill then. You can go home, we don’t work for a fascist sweat shop company that will make you work with broken limbs and bleeding eyeballs so no one is going to force you to stay, you are only staying to be a fucking martyr and think that this department will fall apart if you are gone for 1 afternoon. Nothing you do can be THAT important and I am sure it will wait until the morning or possibly..gasp…the day after and you can deal with it then when you are feeling better. You don’t get paid enough to put your health over your job or to frankly give this much of a shit about it anyway.
After I went to cook my jacket potato for lunch she had gone home.
OK so I may have not said ALL of the above but I think my exasperation at her finally showed through and she got the hint. She’s back in today and feeling a lot better and the world didn’t end while she was gone. My afternoon was also greatly improved and I had a nice peaceful time until Moody showed up with his inane mutterings about websites. I am thwarted at every turn dear readers! Why won’t they leave me alone?!
Apparently this morning something was being discussed in the office with MM and at one point CJ stood up and said “Well you don’t care anyway as you’re going off to the Air Show!” I’m not sure in what context this was used but she was alluding to the fact that MM has to go to some meeting at an air show to look at planes for something or the other. Anyway it came across very patronisingly and well, rude. Kirstie was sat here fuming as MM will now think she is discussing his diary with everyone and Bog Monkey told Kirstie later that MM’s face was like thunder after CJ stood up and shot her mouth off. I think it may have been CJ’s attempt at humour but she has failed miserably and has already had a telling off from Kirstie and there has been some whispering between the great leader and his whinging sidekick about it as well so she’s probably in for a bollocking.
HA HA!
Ginger was just leaving for the day and Kirstie said something about me which I didn’t hear (because I was engrossed in this blog) so I got another comment about being moody and I’m afraid to say I snapped. There is only so much one can take you know, I have the patience of a saint and it is often pushed to it’s limits here. Now she’s just winding me up because she knows I will bite so my next step is going to be total blanking of anything she says and if that doesn’t work I will resort to violence.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
I was in a good mood today, well I was in an OK mood and not particularly pissed off about anything. Now I’m in a bad mood because Kirstie keeps accusing me of being in a bad mood when I’m not. OK so I am NOW but before when she was saying I was I wasn’t. If you follow me. This is because I have apparently got some kind of ‘moody face’ on me today. I think she may have mistook concentration for moody. Just to clear up any confusion that may arise from this she meant my ‘moody face’ as in the emotion not the person. Anyways all day I have had comments – “oh you’re not in a happy place today are you?”, “what’s up with you?”, “You’re very quiet” and on it goes. At first I was defending myself, trying to convince her of my non-bad mood, even trying to join in banter and force some joke or the other, then I remembered I don’t care what these people think and stopped bothering and started shrugging and then I eventually fell into a bad mood and no longer need to defend myself. Ironically she’s not saying anything now.
I normally wouldn’t mind so much as I can be a bit gobby and so being quiet would probably come across as unusual in my day to day workplace behaviour but after the shitty mood Kirstie was in yesterday I feel she is no place to judge.
In her defence she wasn’t having the best day, all that training malarkey was going tits up and she wasn’t feeling well but the whinging was getting to monumental levels that would soon create some kind of self destructing tornado of catalytic proportions or I would have lent over and smacked her full on in the face. The spoon was out and primed and it was more than a relief when she went home sick at lunch time. That was after an entire morning of sighs, whines, bitching, fretting and constantly going on about how ill she felt. I suggested she go home if she didn’t feel well and was met with a look that said “how can I when I have all this work to do and the world might explode if I don’t do it right now?!” But she carried on complaining…
Kirstie: Oh god I feel so sick
Me: You should go home
Kirstie: Oh I can’t I have too much to do
Me: But if you feel rough you should go, look after yourself
Kirstie: Well maybe later but I need to wipe Moon Monkey’s bottom first
10 minutes later:
Kirstie: Oh god I feel so sick
Me: You should go home
Kirstie: Oh I can’t I have too much to do
Me: But if you feel rough you should go, look after yourself
Kirstie: But the world may end if I’m not here whinging all day
10 minutes later:
Kirstie: Oh god I feel so sick
Me: You should go home
Kirstie: Oh I can’t I have too much to do
Me: Fine but shut the fuck up saying you are ill then. You can go home, we don’t work for a fascist sweat shop company that will make you work with broken limbs and bleeding eyeballs so no one is going to force you to stay, you are only staying to be a fucking martyr and think that this department will fall apart if you are gone for 1 afternoon. Nothing you do can be THAT important and I am sure it will wait until the morning or possibly..gasp…the day after and you can deal with it then when you are feeling better. You don’t get paid enough to put your health over your job or to frankly give this much of a shit about it anyway.
After I went to cook my jacket potato for lunch she had gone home.
OK so I may have not said ALL of the above but I think my exasperation at her finally showed through and she got the hint. She’s back in today and feeling a lot better and the world didn’t end while she was gone. My afternoon was also greatly improved and I had a nice peaceful time until Moody showed up with his inane mutterings about websites. I am thwarted at every turn dear readers! Why won’t they leave me alone?!
Apparently this morning something was being discussed in the office with MM and at one point CJ stood up and said “Well you don’t care anyway as you’re going off to the Air Show!” I’m not sure in what context this was used but she was alluding to the fact that MM has to go to some meeting at an air show to look at planes for something or the other. Anyway it came across very patronisingly and well, rude. Kirstie was sat here fuming as MM will now think she is discussing his diary with everyone and Bog Monkey told Kirstie later that MM’s face was like thunder after CJ stood up and shot her mouth off. I think it may have been CJ’s attempt at humour but she has failed miserably and has already had a telling off from Kirstie and there has been some whispering between the great leader and his whinging sidekick about it as well so she’s probably in for a bollocking.
HA HA!
Ginger was just leaving for the day and Kirstie said something about me which I didn’t hear (because I was engrossed in this blog) so I got another comment about being moody and I’m afraid to say I snapped. There is only so much one can take you know, I have the patience of a saint and it is often pushed to it’s limits here. Now she’s just winding me up because she knows I will bite so my next step is going to be total blanking of anything she says and if that doesn’t work I will resort to violence.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
Monday, 19 July 2010
Spoons, Dickface and pink curlies
Why is it that after an ace weekend Mondays at work always seem even shitter than one after a semi-ace or even below average weekend? And I don’t mean just the come down (from a natural high of course) that kicks in on a Sunday night just before bed time and looms over you as you swipe your pass to the office door the next morning, I mean that once you’re in and at your desk everyone seems to want to throw all forms of faeces your way. Until your desk looks like the monkey enclosure at London Zoo and people are gagging as they pass you.
Today is one such day.
Feeling slightly jaded if I’m honest which doesn’t help matters much, had some fun in the sun yesterday which involved a large amount of alcohol and not enough sun cream. So I arrived in work tired and feeling a little sun stroked and dehydrated. Fired up the computer and straight on to Internet Explorer (of course, priorities right?) to check my email and FaceBook. Internet is crappy. Computer freezes. Computer freezes on an image of me with candy floss sticking out of my jeans to indicate sweet tasting, pink, if not slightly over grown pubic hair. Turn off computer forcibly by ripping plug socket from wall. Check to see no one saw that. Once my computer is finally working at its normal snail rate a reminder pops up for a meeting I have at 10am with CJ.
Oh yes. Sigh. Forgot about that.
It’s in 9 minutes and I haven’t had my banana bread breakfast yet so I engulf that to stop my stomach rumbling and to keep the sickness at bay. This is the meeting I arranged (why did I do that again?) to try and teach CJ what I actually do so that she can stop being so feckin’ lazy when I am on holiday and cover for me with no excuses. It takes about 15 minutes and the whole time she looks disinterested and doesn’t make one note on the subject. I’m sorry is this too beneath you? CJ also enquires about my weekend and so I have to ask about hers. She’s been to a wedding of her friends and it sounds like her mate is just as fun as her, running the wedding with a variety of spreadsheets and schedules. Wow, bet she was a barrel of laughs at the top table.
I manage to fob her off with an “anyway, things to get on with…” and return to the daily drudge. Prior to this meeting a bunch of people had been headed to training on the new system, which Kirstie had organised. No one wants to do this training, it’s boring and run by some big corporate IT company who I won’t name but there aren’t many and Moon Monkey comes from those waters too. Gunner and Ginger are both on today’s which started at 9am. Ginger came running in the door at 8.54am and Gunner was still finishing his breakfast. The training was happening in another building so it was safe to say they were going to be late. Kirstie starts her ranting about people and tardiness “come on you two, get over there!” and is duly ignored. Eventually they leave, still ignoring her as they go. I don’t blame them, she sounds like a fucking head mistress and I want to hit her with the wooden spoon. One of the other guys who is on the training then comes into the office “why aren’t you in training, you’ll be late!” and again when we bump into Jean Brody on our way back from the kitchen “you had better have a good excuse missy!”
Really big wooden spoon. With serrated edges.
My training joy starts on Wed afternoon this week. Originally it was me, Gunner, Saffa, Harley and a couple of other guys from the team. Gunner was moved and the group has for some reason whittled down to 4. Now Saffa is saying she can’t attend as she has a meeting in Norwich on the Thursday.
So that leaves me, Harley and Dickface. Dickface isn’t mentioned much in this blog because luckily he is hardly ever about. He’s an obnoxious prick who is prone to an argument and bitching session more than is necessary. He thinks’ he’s gods gift and will piss anyone off who deals with him. It takes him 2 hours to say anything that would take a normal person 2 minutes to summarise and if you mention his name you’ll get a chorus of groans round the office. At one Christmas party he cornered me and tried to impress me with stories about him and his friendship with Roy Chubby Brown. Wow I’m impressed, no really this is my impressed face, it also bears a very close resemblance to my bored face, my annoyed face and my I couldn’t give a shit face. In a word – twat.
Because there is only the 3 of us in this group and we have 2 external trainers for it Kirstie is keen to try and swap someone else in for Saffa so she’s doing the rounds. Seems everyone has prior arrangements. I’ve already had words with Saffa about leaving me with Dickface and Harley in a badly air-conditioned room with no windows for 2 ½ days. Can it get any worse? Oh hang on, it possibly could because now Kirstie is asking CJ if she will swap. She sitting next to me and without a word of warning asking CJ if she can change her training days. I sit here in disbelief, wondering what I could do to possibly get out of this situation…..maybe break a leg at netball training tonight? Hang on, CJ can’t swap, thank fuck.
I email Kirstie immediately:
From: Nancy Clueless
Sent: 19 July 2010 13:37
To: Kirstie
Subject: Why?
Were you about to put CJ on my course?
That would mean I was training with her, Dickface and Harley.
Do you really hate me that much? What have I done to hurt you?
Why, why, why?
I know she’s getting desperate with organising this training and no one wants to do it and everyone wants to swap and people are showing up late but how could she stoop so low – HOW? The wooden spoon is out on the desk.
I shant go on but the day has generally carried on in the same manner, I’m counting down the minutes and hoping Tuesday brings a little less shit and a little more well, just a little less shit is all I can hope for I guess.
One thing that lit up my morning momentarily was the arrival of Moon Monkey into the office (bear with me…) looking decidedly put out. Kirstie enquired as to what was up. Seems that the accommodation he is staying in this week is a bit of a building site. He’s in the show room and they are still building around him. So last night they switched off the electricity and water, he he. Wait it gets better…. Then at 4am this morning they turn the electricity back on which means everything comes on by default – lights, TV, alarms, the whole shabang, hee hee. And the water is still off so he had to come into the office to shower, heeee heee heeee! Kirstie laughed and then stopped laughing when he didn’t join in and then apologised. But when he’d gone back to his desk she started laughing again and me and Gunner joined in. My ribs hurt for a bit after that.
Today is one such day.
Feeling slightly jaded if I’m honest which doesn’t help matters much, had some fun in the sun yesterday which involved a large amount of alcohol and not enough sun cream. So I arrived in work tired and feeling a little sun stroked and dehydrated. Fired up the computer and straight on to Internet Explorer (of course, priorities right?) to check my email and FaceBook. Internet is crappy. Computer freezes. Computer freezes on an image of me with candy floss sticking out of my jeans to indicate sweet tasting, pink, if not slightly over grown pubic hair. Turn off computer forcibly by ripping plug socket from wall. Check to see no one saw that. Once my computer is finally working at its normal snail rate a reminder pops up for a meeting I have at 10am with CJ.
Oh yes. Sigh. Forgot about that.
It’s in 9 minutes and I haven’t had my banana bread breakfast yet so I engulf that to stop my stomach rumbling and to keep the sickness at bay. This is the meeting I arranged (why did I do that again?) to try and teach CJ what I actually do so that she can stop being so feckin’ lazy when I am on holiday and cover for me with no excuses. It takes about 15 minutes and the whole time she looks disinterested and doesn’t make one note on the subject. I’m sorry is this too beneath you? CJ also enquires about my weekend and so I have to ask about hers. She’s been to a wedding of her friends and it sounds like her mate is just as fun as her, running the wedding with a variety of spreadsheets and schedules. Wow, bet she was a barrel of laughs at the top table.
I manage to fob her off with an “anyway, things to get on with…” and return to the daily drudge. Prior to this meeting a bunch of people had been headed to training on the new system, which Kirstie had organised. No one wants to do this training, it’s boring and run by some big corporate IT company who I won’t name but there aren’t many and Moon Monkey comes from those waters too. Gunner and Ginger are both on today’s which started at 9am. Ginger came running in the door at 8.54am and Gunner was still finishing his breakfast. The training was happening in another building so it was safe to say they were going to be late. Kirstie starts her ranting about people and tardiness “come on you two, get over there!” and is duly ignored. Eventually they leave, still ignoring her as they go. I don’t blame them, she sounds like a fucking head mistress and I want to hit her with the wooden spoon. One of the other guys who is on the training then comes into the office “why aren’t you in training, you’ll be late!” and again when we bump into Jean Brody on our way back from the kitchen “you had better have a good excuse missy!”
Really big wooden spoon. With serrated edges.
My training joy starts on Wed afternoon this week. Originally it was me, Gunner, Saffa, Harley and a couple of other guys from the team. Gunner was moved and the group has for some reason whittled down to 4. Now Saffa is saying she can’t attend as she has a meeting in Norwich on the Thursday.
So that leaves me, Harley and Dickface. Dickface isn’t mentioned much in this blog because luckily he is hardly ever about. He’s an obnoxious prick who is prone to an argument and bitching session more than is necessary. He thinks’ he’s gods gift and will piss anyone off who deals with him. It takes him 2 hours to say anything that would take a normal person 2 minutes to summarise and if you mention his name you’ll get a chorus of groans round the office. At one Christmas party he cornered me and tried to impress me with stories about him and his friendship with Roy Chubby Brown. Wow I’m impressed, no really this is my impressed face, it also bears a very close resemblance to my bored face, my annoyed face and my I couldn’t give a shit face. In a word – twat.
Because there is only the 3 of us in this group and we have 2 external trainers for it Kirstie is keen to try and swap someone else in for Saffa so she’s doing the rounds. Seems everyone has prior arrangements. I’ve already had words with Saffa about leaving me with Dickface and Harley in a badly air-conditioned room with no windows for 2 ½ days. Can it get any worse? Oh hang on, it possibly could because now Kirstie is asking CJ if she will swap. She sitting next to me and without a word of warning asking CJ if she can change her training days. I sit here in disbelief, wondering what I could do to possibly get out of this situation…..maybe break a leg at netball training tonight? Hang on, CJ can’t swap, thank fuck.
I email Kirstie immediately:
From: Nancy Clueless
Sent: 19 July 2010 13:37
To: Kirstie
Subject: Why?
Were you about to put CJ on my course?
That would mean I was training with her, Dickface and Harley.
Do you really hate me that much? What have I done to hurt you?
Why, why, why?
I know she’s getting desperate with organising this training and no one wants to do it and everyone wants to swap and people are showing up late but how could she stoop so low – HOW? The wooden spoon is out on the desk.
I shant go on but the day has generally carried on in the same manner, I’m counting down the minutes and hoping Tuesday brings a little less shit and a little more well, just a little less shit is all I can hope for I guess.
One thing that lit up my morning momentarily was the arrival of Moon Monkey into the office (bear with me…) looking decidedly put out. Kirstie enquired as to what was up. Seems that the accommodation he is staying in this week is a bit of a building site. He’s in the show room and they are still building around him. So last night they switched off the electricity and water, he he. Wait it gets better…. Then at 4am this morning they turn the electricity back on which means everything comes on by default – lights, TV, alarms, the whole shabang, hee hee. And the water is still off so he had to come into the office to shower, heeee heee heeee! Kirstie laughed and then stopped laughing when he didn’t join in and then apologised. But when he’d gone back to his desk she started laughing again and me and Gunner joined in. My ribs hurt for a bit after that.
Friday, 16 July 2010
Break-in
There was a break-in in the office last night. We got the official email from the head honcho this morning. Scary shit man, someone was in stealing laptops and phones and pen tidy’s and everything.
Apparently ‘we suffered a security breach’ last night just after 8pm and a ‘single male intruder (how do they know his marital status?) entered the floor (clever) and took a number of items from the desks around the Legal and Risk Teams.’ Ah the irony, you’d think they’d be a bit more cautious wouldn’t you? Anyway a full investigation is being carried out and security is being raised in the office. Too right, I’ll be locking my savoury poppy seed crackers and pretzels away tonight and making sure my bowling trophy is in a high security vault.
Most likely this bloke wandered in after a cleaner and then cleaned up, saw the opportunity and took it. But the way they go on in this email I have images of a ninja style cat burglar, head to toe in black and shimmying up the outside of the building.
We have cctv at the entrances to the floors from the lifts, by the loo’s etc so you’d think they’d have caught him on camera. Not that I suppose that would help any, he’s long gone with his tippex and mouse mat stash by now. Maybe it was an inside job?! Thieving from your own work colleagues?! Tsk tsk, bad show indeed. I wonder who the suspects could be….well it wouldn’t be anyone in Legal and Risk that would be too obvious. Andre’s on ‘annual leave’ so maybe she has actually been planning a break in for months and was mistaken for a ‘single male intruder’? Well it’s possible, she is a bit mannish and dressed head to foot in black you might not be able to tell the difference apart from her large lady arse. Then there’s Moody who is still in New Zealand supposedly! He’d be more matching the description of the intruder and a lot less clumsy, plus he wouldn’t be looking for ancient artefacts like Andre. But then Moody has a heart condition so he’d have to be careful, too much excitement like that and he’d be keeling over by the water cooler.
Running out of suspects here, most other people are accounted for or just completely incapable of actually carrying out a ‘security breach’. I have an alibi for my whereabouts last night at 8pm before you start throwing accusations at me!
If we have any more updates I will let you know, I’m sure you’ll be waiting with baited breath for the next instalment. Will there be another break in? Will we catch the thief? Will Andre return from her holiday sporting a new Blackberry and sport watch?
All will be revealed. But probably not.
Apparently ‘we suffered a security breach’ last night just after 8pm and a ‘single male intruder (how do they know his marital status?) entered the floor (clever) and took a number of items from the desks around the Legal and Risk Teams.’ Ah the irony, you’d think they’d be a bit more cautious wouldn’t you? Anyway a full investigation is being carried out and security is being raised in the office. Too right, I’ll be locking my savoury poppy seed crackers and pretzels away tonight and making sure my bowling trophy is in a high security vault.
Most likely this bloke wandered in after a cleaner and then cleaned up, saw the opportunity and took it. But the way they go on in this email I have images of a ninja style cat burglar, head to toe in black and shimmying up the outside of the building.
We have cctv at the entrances to the floors from the lifts, by the loo’s etc so you’d think they’d have caught him on camera. Not that I suppose that would help any, he’s long gone with his tippex and mouse mat stash by now. Maybe it was an inside job?! Thieving from your own work colleagues?! Tsk tsk, bad show indeed. I wonder who the suspects could be….well it wouldn’t be anyone in Legal and Risk that would be too obvious. Andre’s on ‘annual leave’ so maybe she has actually been planning a break in for months and was mistaken for a ‘single male intruder’? Well it’s possible, she is a bit mannish and dressed head to foot in black you might not be able to tell the difference apart from her large lady arse. Then there’s Moody who is still in New Zealand supposedly! He’d be more matching the description of the intruder and a lot less clumsy, plus he wouldn’t be looking for ancient artefacts like Andre. But then Moody has a heart condition so he’d have to be careful, too much excitement like that and he’d be keeling over by the water cooler.
Running out of suspects here, most other people are accounted for or just completely incapable of actually carrying out a ‘security breach’. I have an alibi for my whereabouts last night at 8pm before you start throwing accusations at me!
If we have any more updates I will let you know, I’m sure you’ll be waiting with baited breath for the next instalment. Will there be another break in? Will we catch the thief? Will Andre return from her holiday sporting a new Blackberry and sport watch?
All will be revealed. But probably not.
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Wish I wasn’t here
I’m back from my hols, tanned, relaxed and rested and of course back into the shit straight away in this place.
Everything was left in CJ’s less than capable hands and as I predicted she had done jack shit all week and I returned to a pile of work on my desk and an accompanying email basically telling me to do the work for her. Oh and that she would be out of the office all day – how convenient. I voiced my annoyance at this loudly in Harley’s ear shot and he made some kind of feeble excuse for it and shrugged his shoulders as he does. No back bone there, shouldn’t have expected any really. I then forwarded CJ’s email to the people I deal with for the work and explained I would be getting on to these straight away as I was just back from annual leave and had found them on my desk. I’m not getting into trouble for her laziness – no siree.
I’ve offered to take her through how to do the work, it’s very straight forward really, I mean I can do it – a mere pleb administrator so surely the high, mighty, all seeing and know-it-all-ing CJ can handle it? She sent me an invite on Outlook to do this next Monday at 10am. FFS. I was tempted to decline and then just stand up and accept verbally over the top of the desk partition (oh how I love you desk partition) but I didn’t. She looked a little put out when I offered the help, my guess is that she doesn’t want to know as then she has no excuse for not doing the work which is exactly why I offered! I have however realised that I will probably be incredibly hung-over on Monday at 10am as I have a small soiree to attend Sunday that will involve drinking alcoholic beverages. Damn. Bad planning.
As ever the reply to “did I miss anything?” was a resounding ‘no’. Nothing interesting ever happens round here anymore, it’s very disappointing on a daily basis to me. However, Kirstie and I went off to get some lunch today and she had a titbit of gossip for me….
Kirstie was chatting to Bog Monkey the other day, he’s one of Moon Monkey’s middle management people but is never here as he works abroad a lot and sounds like an Irish leprechaun, think I might have mentioned him before. Anyhoo, they were chatting about ‘Freaker’ and his penchant for younger ladies. He currently has a 28 year old girlfriend in Dubai (he is 48) who he thinks is going to dump him because he doesn’t want to get married. He was in a 16 year relationship previously but never married then either.
Bog Monkey tells Kirstie the reason Freaker’s 16 year relationship broke up is because he was having an affair with a 20 year old Russian gymnast (I’m not making this shit up but it does sound ridiculous doesn’t it?) – wifey found out and finished it, as you would. So Bog Monkey and Kirstie are tutting away at Freaker’s ridiculous playboy lifestyle and wondering how he manages to bag these women. This is also a bit of a mystery to me, I mean he’s not particularly attractive or fit, he can be incredibly irritating, he takes the piss a lot but isn’t very good at having some back and his needy tendencies towards Kirstie are just pathetic at times. I don’t even think he’s that rich. I’m baffled. Maybe the 28 year old is a bit of a troll, no one ever mentioned these ladies being attractive.
Anyway, I digress. Then the conversation moves on to being made permanent with the company (it’s a big conversation between the contractors at the moment, all the pro’s and cons and things) and FB’s name comes up. Bog Monkey asks Kirstie a couple of questions about it all and Kirstie says “well as you might have guessed she wasn’t that popular round here” and he says yes he got that impression and every time he had to deal with her she was a rude bitch. He said “she seemed to get paid an awful lot of money for doing nothing” and then added that he had heard about her and the ex boss having an affair from sources outside of the company! Kirstie didn’t press him as to where he heard this but he said it wasn’t someone connected with the company, which goes to show that shit like that travels. Bog Monkey also mentioned she had been making a lot of overseas calls in her last weeks here and wondered if the ex boss was setting something up for her abroad. Wouldn’t put it past him.
Its funny how only once she has gone people realise what a stupid, lazy, retarded, boss banging bitch FB was. Wish the people on high had figured that out 3 years ago and they could have saved everyone else in the department/company 3 years of having to put up with her. Still better late than never.
Everything was left in CJ’s less than capable hands and as I predicted she had done jack shit all week and I returned to a pile of work on my desk and an accompanying email basically telling me to do the work for her. Oh and that she would be out of the office all day – how convenient. I voiced my annoyance at this loudly in Harley’s ear shot and he made some kind of feeble excuse for it and shrugged his shoulders as he does. No back bone there, shouldn’t have expected any really. I then forwarded CJ’s email to the people I deal with for the work and explained I would be getting on to these straight away as I was just back from annual leave and had found them on my desk. I’m not getting into trouble for her laziness – no siree.
I’ve offered to take her through how to do the work, it’s very straight forward really, I mean I can do it – a mere pleb administrator so surely the high, mighty, all seeing and know-it-all-ing CJ can handle it? She sent me an invite on Outlook to do this next Monday at 10am. FFS. I was tempted to decline and then just stand up and accept verbally over the top of the desk partition (oh how I love you desk partition) but I didn’t. She looked a little put out when I offered the help, my guess is that she doesn’t want to know as then she has no excuse for not doing the work which is exactly why I offered! I have however realised that I will probably be incredibly hung-over on Monday at 10am as I have a small soiree to attend Sunday that will involve drinking alcoholic beverages. Damn. Bad planning.
As ever the reply to “did I miss anything?” was a resounding ‘no’. Nothing interesting ever happens round here anymore, it’s very disappointing on a daily basis to me. However, Kirstie and I went off to get some lunch today and she had a titbit of gossip for me….
Kirstie was chatting to Bog Monkey the other day, he’s one of Moon Monkey’s middle management people but is never here as he works abroad a lot and sounds like an Irish leprechaun, think I might have mentioned him before. Anyhoo, they were chatting about ‘Freaker’ and his penchant for younger ladies. He currently has a 28 year old girlfriend in Dubai (he is 48) who he thinks is going to dump him because he doesn’t want to get married. He was in a 16 year relationship previously but never married then either.
Bog Monkey tells Kirstie the reason Freaker’s 16 year relationship broke up is because he was having an affair with a 20 year old Russian gymnast (I’m not making this shit up but it does sound ridiculous doesn’t it?) – wifey found out and finished it, as you would. So Bog Monkey and Kirstie are tutting away at Freaker’s ridiculous playboy lifestyle and wondering how he manages to bag these women. This is also a bit of a mystery to me, I mean he’s not particularly attractive or fit, he can be incredibly irritating, he takes the piss a lot but isn’t very good at having some back and his needy tendencies towards Kirstie are just pathetic at times. I don’t even think he’s that rich. I’m baffled. Maybe the 28 year old is a bit of a troll, no one ever mentioned these ladies being attractive.
Anyway, I digress. Then the conversation moves on to being made permanent with the company (it’s a big conversation between the contractors at the moment, all the pro’s and cons and things) and FB’s name comes up. Bog Monkey asks Kirstie a couple of questions about it all and Kirstie says “well as you might have guessed she wasn’t that popular round here” and he says yes he got that impression and every time he had to deal with her she was a rude bitch. He said “she seemed to get paid an awful lot of money for doing nothing” and then added that he had heard about her and the ex boss having an affair from sources outside of the company! Kirstie didn’t press him as to where he heard this but he said it wasn’t someone connected with the company, which goes to show that shit like that travels. Bog Monkey also mentioned she had been making a lot of overseas calls in her last weeks here and wondered if the ex boss was setting something up for her abroad. Wouldn’t put it past him.
Its funny how only once she has gone people realise what a stupid, lazy, retarded, boss banging bitch FB was. Wish the people on high had figured that out 3 years ago and they could have saved everyone else in the department/company 3 years of having to put up with her. Still better late than never.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Clueless – and it’s not me
The office has been pretty dull the past few weeks, hence the lack of blogging. No one’s done anything interesting or out of the ordinary, no scandal or gossip, no hiring or firing, not even an interesting update on the netball I’m afraid. And I’m off on my holidays tomorrow so my mind is elsewhere than work (for a change)….
It has happened that both Moody and I are on holiday at the same time. Not sure how Harley let that one slip though as he is normally the annual leave Gestapo but it’s worked out that Moody went off on Thursday for 2 weeks and I’m off from tomorrow for a week. So that leaves the only person left to hold the fort for our section of the department – CJ. Uh oh.
CJ deals with other aspects of the work we do, the big old frameworks and being rude to people on the telephone is her forte as we know. She has so far found it to be beneath her to involve herself in the ‘little things’ that Moody and I do (or more so me) or even to show an interest and find out what it is I am employed to do all day long and this has now come back to bite her on the arse. Already she has sent me several emails this morning in response to requests from other departments:
“Any clues as to who is does do these?”
“Apologies, I've never dealt with one of these.”
Hmmmm, me thinks she may be in some trouble come 5pm tonight. Gunner has given her until this Wednesday before she calls in sick.
I have given Gunner and everyone as much of an explanation as to what I am in the middle of or what might come through this week so CJ doesn’t manage to fuck everything up completely. Because you know that I’ll get back a week on Wednesday to a huge pile of emails, a freaking CJ and a ton of people asking me where everything is that was meant to be done last week. As I have learnt previously she doesn’t seem to multi task well and without anyone to forward these emails to she is going to start sighing like a mo-fo. Not that we’re even that busy, I’m now twiddling my thumbs and counting down the minutes until home time but I’m sure it will all be extremely exasperating for her!
In the mean time I have the joyous Database to keep me occupied and some more comedy excerpts to share with you:
Hello,
We get your name and email address from your website. Knowing you may need to purchase safety shoes, we like to introduce our company and products to you, hope that we may build business cooperation in the future.
We are a Chinese factory specializing in the manufacture and export of Safety shoes. We have profuse designs with series quality grade, and You are welcome to visit our website which includes our company profiles, history and something latest designs.
Our safety shoe products may be of concern to your purchasing dept. Can you please transfer to this information to your corresonding dept. or send your contact information to me. Thank you very much and looking forwards to your reply.
Dear Sir/Madam
Nice to meet you!
We get your company from Google. We hope establish trade relations with you.
We are manufacturer and exporter of Chemicals, and our products are sold throughout the world with good quality and low price. In the export of chemical products industry has many years of experience.
dear sir,
i would my company to do repairs for your motors generators.my is called LEED INC i have done work for many companies. i will be gald if given the chance.i have attached aprofile for you.
Yours
Don’t get tired of them do you? Well it cheers me up anyway….
It has happened that both Moody and I are on holiday at the same time. Not sure how Harley let that one slip though as he is normally the annual leave Gestapo but it’s worked out that Moody went off on Thursday for 2 weeks and I’m off from tomorrow for a week. So that leaves the only person left to hold the fort for our section of the department – CJ. Uh oh.
CJ deals with other aspects of the work we do, the big old frameworks and being rude to people on the telephone is her forte as we know. She has so far found it to be beneath her to involve herself in the ‘little things’ that Moody and I do (or more so me) or even to show an interest and find out what it is I am employed to do all day long and this has now come back to bite her on the arse. Already she has sent me several emails this morning in response to requests from other departments:
“Any clues as to who is does do these?”
“Apologies, I've never dealt with one of these.”
Hmmmm, me thinks she may be in some trouble come 5pm tonight. Gunner has given her until this Wednesday before she calls in sick.
I have given Gunner and everyone as much of an explanation as to what I am in the middle of or what might come through this week so CJ doesn’t manage to fuck everything up completely. Because you know that I’ll get back a week on Wednesday to a huge pile of emails, a freaking CJ and a ton of people asking me where everything is that was meant to be done last week. As I have learnt previously she doesn’t seem to multi task well and without anyone to forward these emails to she is going to start sighing like a mo-fo. Not that we’re even that busy, I’m now twiddling my thumbs and counting down the minutes until home time but I’m sure it will all be extremely exasperating for her!
In the mean time I have the joyous Database to keep me occupied and some more comedy excerpts to share with you:
Hello,
We get your name and email address from your website. Knowing you may need to purchase safety shoes, we like to introduce our company and products to you, hope that we may build business cooperation in the future.
We are a Chinese factory specializing in the manufacture and export of Safety shoes. We have profuse designs with series quality grade, and You are welcome to visit our website which includes our company profiles, history and something latest designs.
Our safety shoe products may be of concern to your purchasing dept. Can you please transfer to this information to your corresonding dept. or send your contact information to me. Thank you very much and looking forwards to your reply.
Dear Sir/Madam
Nice to meet you!
We get your company from Google. We hope establish trade relations with you.
We are manufacturer and exporter of Chemicals, and our products are sold throughout the world with good quality and low price. In the export of chemical products industry has many years of experience.
dear sir,
i would my company to do repairs for your motors generators.my is called LEED INC i have done work for many companies. i will be gald if given the chance.i have attached aprofile for you.
Yours
Don’t get tired of them do you? Well it cheers me up anyway….
Monday, 28 June 2010
HAND ME A WOODEN SPOON!
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….
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….
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.
Thursday, 27 May 2010
Regret of a Lifetime
A slight detour from working in this nut house today as a blast from the past has popped up on Face Barf. Before I sold my soul to the corporate devil to work with Lord Crazy and his band of geeks I actually had a career in the education sector and almost 60% of the time enjoyed turning up for work. I know, hard to believe isn’t it?
I was working in a university which of course meant I was working with students. Young, fresh faced pimples of our future, the back bone of our society to be, the Prime Ministers and Bank Managers of tomorrow…..well lets not get too carried away, I’m sure some of them ended up working in a bank anyway. My role was to help these kids get jobs (I know, someone like me giving out careers advice – ironic doesn’t begin to cover it) so I had to meet with them in a one to one situation, do CV’s, interview skills, the usual. Most of them were very nice, polite and said thank you, some were rude, obnoxious and shocked they wouldn’t be earning £50k on a graduate starting salary and some were just a bit odd.
One of these students, Chan, was a regular customer as whilst being an IT geek genius he struggled somewhat with writing and spelling and the English language in general. This was a common problem amongst my students; you’d be shocked to learn how many would put the word ‘innit’ into an essay…. So Chan would come back again and again trying to perfect a CV or an application form and time and time again he would fail to get a job. Good on paper, not so good in an interview.
After a few weeks he started to bring things to the sessions with him, offer me a chewing gum or sweet to start with, then bring a box of biscuits, that kind of thing. This wasn’t unusual as normally students would bring in chocolates and things as a thank you for the help we gave them so I didn’t really think anything of it. Then one week he bought me some chocolates, a random lolly pop and some other food stuffs. This seemed to be getting slightly excessive. Then came the flower. Now we were falling into creepy-ville.
In one session Chan said “can I ask you something Nancy?” “Of course” says me, thinking it would be career related. “Would you like to go out with me?” Shit, not what I was expecting. “Er how do you mean?” – “Like on a date” Oh arse biscuits. I had to tell the guy very nicely that even though it was flattering I was actually in a relationship, that he was probably a wee bit young for me and that there was definitely a policy against university staff dating students.
“Oh. OK.”
Phew, got out of that one.
“Are you sure?”
Got to admire the little man’s determination. Yes I was sure and no it wouldn’t happen.
After this I lay off the meetings and would only see him when I thought it was absolutely necessary. He seemed to settle back down to normal and all was forgotten until a few months later….
“Nancy, you know I asked you out that time? Well would you reconsider?”
“No Chan, I told you before it’s not going to happen.”
“Not even dinner or the cinema?”
“No.”
So I had to stop the meetings with Chan, avoid seeing him at the student desk, ask a colleague to take over seeing him and then I left the uni to pursue other interests. Bye bye Chan, nice knowing you, good luck with the love life.
On a regular basis this guy still tries to hunt me down in Face Book, I get regular friend requests which I just ignore. I know I could block him but I think that would be mean and I was hoping that after a few years he would just get the hint. But no, I think I may have a stalker on my hands as today I received this message:
“Felt like a regret of a life time when some two years ago I have a slightly better chance than now. I still wanted a date with you, beautiful Miss Clueless. Like having lunch or dinner, going to a movie together (honestly, I like outdoor activities, feel free to contribute your idea if you are interested) if I could ever had that chance (to appreciate you and listen to what you think).
P.S. Exams will be finish by the end of next week; I hope I can get ahead of the queue of people who would also like to date you this summer.
Chan”
I would like to know where this queue of people waiting to date me is? Can someone point me in the direction of them?!
Seriously though I am starting to worry, this is now getting creepy. It’s been 2 years, get over it! My constant rejection of you and then ignoring you for several years should be a big enough hint that it’s never going to happen! I suppose this is the danger one faces when working with young impressionable students and I of course can’t be held responsible for being ‘beautiful Miss Clueless’ can I? I’m glad nothing like that has happened in this place. I think I would run screaming from the building.
Maybe I should block Chan now on FB? Maybe then he’d get the hint? Although that would mean not being able to receive any of these hilarious messages – oh come on it is hilarious admit it!!
Right I’m off to find that queue…..
I was working in a university which of course meant I was working with students. Young, fresh faced pimples of our future, the back bone of our society to be, the Prime Ministers and Bank Managers of tomorrow…..well lets not get too carried away, I’m sure some of them ended up working in a bank anyway. My role was to help these kids get jobs (I know, someone like me giving out careers advice – ironic doesn’t begin to cover it) so I had to meet with them in a one to one situation, do CV’s, interview skills, the usual. Most of them were very nice, polite and said thank you, some were rude, obnoxious and shocked they wouldn’t be earning £50k on a graduate starting salary and some were just a bit odd.
One of these students, Chan, was a regular customer as whilst being an IT geek genius he struggled somewhat with writing and spelling and the English language in general. This was a common problem amongst my students; you’d be shocked to learn how many would put the word ‘innit’ into an essay…. So Chan would come back again and again trying to perfect a CV or an application form and time and time again he would fail to get a job. Good on paper, not so good in an interview.
After a few weeks he started to bring things to the sessions with him, offer me a chewing gum or sweet to start with, then bring a box of biscuits, that kind of thing. This wasn’t unusual as normally students would bring in chocolates and things as a thank you for the help we gave them so I didn’t really think anything of it. Then one week he bought me some chocolates, a random lolly pop and some other food stuffs. This seemed to be getting slightly excessive. Then came the flower. Now we were falling into creepy-ville.
In one session Chan said “can I ask you something Nancy?” “Of course” says me, thinking it would be career related. “Would you like to go out with me?” Shit, not what I was expecting. “Er how do you mean?” – “Like on a date” Oh arse biscuits. I had to tell the guy very nicely that even though it was flattering I was actually in a relationship, that he was probably a wee bit young for me and that there was definitely a policy against university staff dating students.
“Oh. OK.”
Phew, got out of that one.
“Are you sure?”
Got to admire the little man’s determination. Yes I was sure and no it wouldn’t happen.
After this I lay off the meetings and would only see him when I thought it was absolutely necessary. He seemed to settle back down to normal and all was forgotten until a few months later….
“Nancy, you know I asked you out that time? Well would you reconsider?”
“No Chan, I told you before it’s not going to happen.”
“Not even dinner or the cinema?”
“No.”
So I had to stop the meetings with Chan, avoid seeing him at the student desk, ask a colleague to take over seeing him and then I left the uni to pursue other interests. Bye bye Chan, nice knowing you, good luck with the love life.
On a regular basis this guy still tries to hunt me down in Face Book, I get regular friend requests which I just ignore. I know I could block him but I think that would be mean and I was hoping that after a few years he would just get the hint. But no, I think I may have a stalker on my hands as today I received this message:
“Felt like a regret of a life time when some two years ago I have a slightly better chance than now. I still wanted a date with you, beautiful Miss Clueless. Like having lunch or dinner, going to a movie together (honestly, I like outdoor activities, feel free to contribute your idea if you are interested) if I could ever had that chance (to appreciate you and listen to what you think).
P.S. Exams will be finish by the end of next week; I hope I can get ahead of the queue of people who would also like to date you this summer.
Chan”
I would like to know where this queue of people waiting to date me is? Can someone point me in the direction of them?!
Seriously though I am starting to worry, this is now getting creepy. It’s been 2 years, get over it! My constant rejection of you and then ignoring you for several years should be a big enough hint that it’s never going to happen! I suppose this is the danger one faces when working with young impressionable students and I of course can’t be held responsible for being ‘beautiful Miss Clueless’ can I? I’m glad nothing like that has happened in this place. I think I would run screaming from the building.
Maybe I should block Chan now on FB? Maybe then he’d get the hint? Although that would mean not being able to receive any of these hilarious messages – oh come on it is hilarious admit it!!
Right I’m off to find that queue…..
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Hand me my baseball bat
FB is back. She’s been back all week but what with Geek Pride Day yesterday I didn’t want to drag a dark cloud over the celebrations. She marched into the office on Monday morning (yes morning! She is capable of getting in before 1pm, who’d have known?!) with her usual “hello I’m back!” in that Pepe le Pew accent to which she gathered very little response. I think Andre said hello rather brightly but then she is nice to everyone. All the people along my row looked at each other with grimaces and raised eyebrows and then there was a bit of 2 finger saluting behind the dividers. I’m sure FB was bitterly disappointed by the lack of impact she had.
As I am now sitting away from most of the nutters she’s not been grating on me as much because I’m a bit more out of ear shot of her “oh la la’s” and excessively loud yawning. There has been the odd exclamation that manages to travel across the office floor though so I don’t think I have escaped completely. On Monday I got stuck in a lift with her which was bloody awful. I was with Curly on our way to the netball meeting and FB got in with some other chick from our office. Curly asked how long she had been back for etc and then FB started asking about the netball. I was stood in the corner avoiding having to have to actually communicate with the witch thinking “please don’t join the team, please don’t join the team”. Curly of course asked (the girl has manners) if FB and her friend were interested but luckily FB opted out. “Oh no, no, no, I don’t theeenk I would know ‘ow to play! Oh la la!” Thank sweet baby jesus for that. All the while I’m sure her mate was giving me evils, no doubt FB has been spreading noxious rumours about me, Gunner, Kirstie and Ginger who all can’t abide her either. Actually they wouldn’t be rumours, we do hate her and I think it’s fairly obvious so she will have cottoned on to that unless she is a complete retard (which is also possible).
So now she’s back for good it will be interesting to see how this all plays out in the department. I’m not sure if she has been introduced to CJ yet so I’m looking forward to what that brings about. Perhaps a battle of the whingers? CJ was telling the poor temp guy sat next to her this morning about her commute into work; I suppose she will have been gagging to tell someone about it for a while as everyone else in the office is sick to death of it. After 6 months you’d think you’d know to shut the hell up but apparently she still thinks its headline news. CJ and FB do seem to be already going for it on the ‘sauntering into work past 9.30am’ stakes but I think CJ is still winning in that category. We wondered if she’d make it in for the 10am team meeting this morning and she did, with 11 minutes to spare! Thankfully with less time to prepare she didn’t shoot her mouth off and keep us all in there longer than necessary.
FB will have now lost a lot of her power in the department what with her shag pal missing from the management team. I can’t see her winning over Moon Monkey with any sexual advances (excuse me……..ah that’s better the dry retching has stopped now) and Bog Monkey is never in the country. That just leaves Freaker, although I think he’s a bit too smart for that kind of thing and anyway he has his fancy woman in Dubai to consider. So with the sex card out the window hopefully FB is fucked (or not as the case may be) and we can watch as she slides into the background, unwanted, un-liked, uninteresting but possibly unpredictable.
Please allow me an evil chuckle at this point. Thank you.
Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!
Oh I enjoyed that.
Still, I am probably getting smug far too early on in the game and no doubt she will pull something out of her badly dressed sleeve at some stage that will shock and enrage us all. I would say that people would have to be holding me back as I brandish a baseball bat with nails in it but I think I’ll be fighting my way through the angry mob to get a shot at her. Form an orderly queue please.
As I am now sitting away from most of the nutters she’s not been grating on me as much because I’m a bit more out of ear shot of her “oh la la’s” and excessively loud yawning. There has been the odd exclamation that manages to travel across the office floor though so I don’t think I have escaped completely. On Monday I got stuck in a lift with her which was bloody awful. I was with Curly on our way to the netball meeting and FB got in with some other chick from our office. Curly asked how long she had been back for etc and then FB started asking about the netball. I was stood in the corner avoiding having to have to actually communicate with the witch thinking “please don’t join the team, please don’t join the team”. Curly of course asked (the girl has manners) if FB and her friend were interested but luckily FB opted out. “Oh no, no, no, I don’t theeenk I would know ‘ow to play! Oh la la!” Thank sweet baby jesus for that. All the while I’m sure her mate was giving me evils, no doubt FB has been spreading noxious rumours about me, Gunner, Kirstie and Ginger who all can’t abide her either. Actually they wouldn’t be rumours, we do hate her and I think it’s fairly obvious so she will have cottoned on to that unless she is a complete retard (which is also possible).
So now she’s back for good it will be interesting to see how this all plays out in the department. I’m not sure if she has been introduced to CJ yet so I’m looking forward to what that brings about. Perhaps a battle of the whingers? CJ was telling the poor temp guy sat next to her this morning about her commute into work; I suppose she will have been gagging to tell someone about it for a while as everyone else in the office is sick to death of it. After 6 months you’d think you’d know to shut the hell up but apparently she still thinks its headline news. CJ and FB do seem to be already going for it on the ‘sauntering into work past 9.30am’ stakes but I think CJ is still winning in that category. We wondered if she’d make it in for the 10am team meeting this morning and she did, with 11 minutes to spare! Thankfully with less time to prepare she didn’t shoot her mouth off and keep us all in there longer than necessary.
FB will have now lost a lot of her power in the department what with her shag pal missing from the management team. I can’t see her winning over Moon Monkey with any sexual advances (excuse me……..ah that’s better the dry retching has stopped now) and Bog Monkey is never in the country. That just leaves Freaker, although I think he’s a bit too smart for that kind of thing and anyway he has his fancy woman in Dubai to consider. So with the sex card out the window hopefully FB is fucked (or not as the case may be) and we can watch as she slides into the background, unwanted, un-liked, uninteresting but possibly unpredictable.
Please allow me an evil chuckle at this point. Thank you.
Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!
Oh I enjoyed that.
Still, I am probably getting smug far too early on in the game and no doubt she will pull something out of her badly dressed sleeve at some stage that will shock and enrage us all. I would say that people would have to be holding me back as I brandish a baseball bat with nails in it but I think I’ll be fighting my way through the angry mob to get a shot at her. Form an orderly queue please.
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
Geek Alert!
Today is Geek Pride Day, to quote Wikipedia: “an initiative which claims the right of every person to be a nerd or a geek. It has been celebrated on May 25 since 2006, celebrating the premiere of the first Star Wars movie in 1977.”
I like to think that everyone has a little bit of geek in them (careful) and I myself have many self-proclaimed geek qualities. I like my sci-fi and fantasy, I’m a big Buffy fan which has on occasions begun to boarder on serious nerdy-ness (yes I have signed photos), I love bad horror and last summer attended Fright-Fest (geek-o-rama!), do tuck my jeans into my socks when I cycle and would definitely not claim to be the coolest cookie in the jar when it comes to clothing, dexterity and romancin’.
As you’ll have gathered by now I also work with some geeks and nerds, and I’m not just talking about the IT department. We have the geekiest of geeks in the form of Andre, Lord of the Geeks in fact. I’m surprised there isn’t a picture of her on that Wikipedia page. But apart from Andre I think this department is possibly the ‘geek’ of the company as well (even going up against Finance), we’re full of the nerds and rejects and no one really knows what to think of us. At company events people tend to shy away and we keep ourselves to ourselves. Because of the nature of our work we can irritate the shit out of people and I’m sure if there was some massive company game of rounder’s our department would be picked last, with sand kicked in our face just for good measure.
But in true geek tradition we carry on regardless, unashamedly holding our heads high with our NHS glasses and awkward glances. Geeks rule. If there were a nuclear fall out then only the geeks would survive (probably because they’d seen how to avoid a nuclear fall out in an episode of Stargate Atlantis) and then would be responsible for the survival of the human race. Just as if they got rid of us lot then this company would fall on its arse without any flanges or christmas trees being supplied. What would they do? Hire more geeks I expect. I never said we weren’t expendable.
So today I raise my coffee cup to geeks all over the world. Especially those who follow in Andre’s footsteps with their LOTR loving, Elf speaking, Medieval garb wearing, sumo wrestling watching, falconry flying, armor and weaponry collecting, convention attending, costume making, ancient recipe cooking ways. I bet she’s like the head vampire – you cut her head off and geeks all around the world would drop down dead. Let’s hope that never happens. I’ll tell her to be more careful with that crossbow….
I like to think that everyone has a little bit of geek in them (careful) and I myself have many self-proclaimed geek qualities. I like my sci-fi and fantasy, I’m a big Buffy fan which has on occasions begun to boarder on serious nerdy-ness (yes I have signed photos), I love bad horror and last summer attended Fright-Fest (geek-o-rama!), do tuck my jeans into my socks when I cycle and would definitely not claim to be the coolest cookie in the jar when it comes to clothing, dexterity and romancin’.
As you’ll have gathered by now I also work with some geeks and nerds, and I’m not just talking about the IT department. We have the geekiest of geeks in the form of Andre, Lord of the Geeks in fact. I’m surprised there isn’t a picture of her on that Wikipedia page. But apart from Andre I think this department is possibly the ‘geek’ of the company as well (even going up against Finance), we’re full of the nerds and rejects and no one really knows what to think of us. At company events people tend to shy away and we keep ourselves to ourselves. Because of the nature of our work we can irritate the shit out of people and I’m sure if there was some massive company game of rounder’s our department would be picked last, with sand kicked in our face just for good measure.
But in true geek tradition we carry on regardless, unashamedly holding our heads high with our NHS glasses and awkward glances. Geeks rule. If there were a nuclear fall out then only the geeks would survive (probably because they’d seen how to avoid a nuclear fall out in an episode of Stargate Atlantis) and then would be responsible for the survival of the human race. Just as if they got rid of us lot then this company would fall on its arse without any flanges or christmas trees being supplied. What would they do? Hire more geeks I expect. I never said we weren’t expendable.
So today I raise my coffee cup to geeks all over the world. Especially those who follow in Andre’s footsteps with their LOTR loving, Elf speaking, Medieval garb wearing, sumo wrestling watching, falconry flying, armor and weaponry collecting, convention attending, costume making, ancient recipe cooking ways. I bet she’s like the head vampire – you cut her head off and geeks all around the world would drop down dead. Let’s hope that never happens. I’ll tell her to be more careful with that crossbow….
Friday, 21 May 2010
Team Clueless
I probably haven’t mentioned it before but I play netball for my company team. Yes, Nancy has many strings to her bow and shooting hoops in the summer with my colleagues is but one of these. We have t-shirts printed up and everything.
Now before I get too carried away and have you thinking I’ll be signing up for Team GB in the 2012 Olympics let me just be clear that this is not a high performing, hard core netball league. We actually play 15 minute games every fortnight in the summer at work against other companies. But it’s a good laugh and it gets me out of the office and away from these oddballs every now and then, plus of course the exercise etc etc.
This year I’ve offered to be joint-captain of the team with another of the players – Curly. Curly is one of those people who is VERY serious when it comes to work and then when you meet her out of work is totally the opposite. Threw me a bit last year when I was very scared of her for the first few games and then realised actually she was a good laugh on the pitch and off. So, we’re heading up the team and the past few days have been trying to recruit for this year’s season.
An email went out yesterday asking people to contact us if they were interested. We got (surprisingly) a good response from f a mixed bag of people and I was making my way through the replies this morning while I was eating my Coco Pops. The usual suspects who played last year – nice to see them back again – a couple of new faces including some lads – always good to have some testosterone on the team – and then…..what’s this? * sprays chocolate milk over monitor * An email from the head of finance (who quite frankly has his head up his own arse most of the time) asking us to put him and…….Moon Monkey down for the team?!!?
………..
……………..
OK. So this is either one big piss take or something very strange is happening here. I march round to the girl who sent out the email for me via the company social committee (who is also on the team) and tell her the situation. “Really?! Er, do you think they are being serious?” Now we have to find some way of deciphering if they are taking the Michael or if they want to run around the court in tiny shorts (eugh the mental images….) So I drop MM an email asking him if he’s aware Head up own arse man has put him forward for netball. The reply is swift “Go for it! Include these guys as well!” and then proceeds to list off the rest of the department management team. Again I am mystified. So I email them…..yep seems they’re all wanting to have a piece of the action! Freaker is one of these managers (he of losing out to me at the bowling fame) so at least we’ll have that competitive edge.
So now I’m torn, what do I do with 2 burly, clumsy, left footed Irish guys, the most competitive man ever and someone who will have to take his head out his butt hole to see where the ball is coming from? Do I put them in and see what carnage occurs? Maybe I bench them and try to find some excuses for them not to play. We’re not going on skills sets here, hell I hadn’t picked up a netball in 15 years up until last May, but I do want to avoid red carding and public embarrassment. Equal opps an all though, I probably have to let them play.
To be honest they probably won’t be in the country for 99% of the games anyway and when they are here they are generally in meetings all day so the likelihood of them actually being able to play is slim. Also, I am quite liking the idea of being able to tell them what to do, especially Moon Monkey. Can you imagine it? “Monkey boy – hit the bench! You’re just not cutting out there!” Ah the power…..
At least we’re bound to draw a crowd. When word gets out that MM and Head up own arse man are playing people will come to support if only to gawk and point at the spectacle. Heck I might even bench myself just so I have a spectator’s view of MM sweating and panting around the court, his arms flailing helplessly as the ball rockets past and he’s pushed to the ground by an aggressive 5’ 2” woman from the office across the road. This is going to be a good season.
Now before I get too carried away and have you thinking I’ll be signing up for Team GB in the 2012 Olympics let me just be clear that this is not a high performing, hard core netball league. We actually play 15 minute games every fortnight in the summer at work against other companies. But it’s a good laugh and it gets me out of the office and away from these oddballs every now and then, plus of course the exercise etc etc.
This year I’ve offered to be joint-captain of the team with another of the players – Curly. Curly is one of those people who is VERY serious when it comes to work and then when you meet her out of work is totally the opposite. Threw me a bit last year when I was very scared of her for the first few games and then realised actually she was a good laugh on the pitch and off. So, we’re heading up the team and the past few days have been trying to recruit for this year’s season.
An email went out yesterday asking people to contact us if they were interested. We got (surprisingly) a good response from f a mixed bag of people and I was making my way through the replies this morning while I was eating my Coco Pops. The usual suspects who played last year – nice to see them back again – a couple of new faces including some lads – always good to have some testosterone on the team – and then…..what’s this? * sprays chocolate milk over monitor * An email from the head of finance (who quite frankly has his head up his own arse most of the time) asking us to put him and…….Moon Monkey down for the team?!!?
………..
……………..
OK. So this is either one big piss take or something very strange is happening here. I march round to the girl who sent out the email for me via the company social committee (who is also on the team) and tell her the situation. “Really?! Er, do you think they are being serious?” Now we have to find some way of deciphering if they are taking the Michael or if they want to run around the court in tiny shorts (eugh the mental images….) So I drop MM an email asking him if he’s aware Head up own arse man has put him forward for netball. The reply is swift “Go for it! Include these guys as well!” and then proceeds to list off the rest of the department management team. Again I am mystified. So I email them…..yep seems they’re all wanting to have a piece of the action! Freaker is one of these managers (he of losing out to me at the bowling fame) so at least we’ll have that competitive edge.
So now I’m torn, what do I do with 2 burly, clumsy, left footed Irish guys, the most competitive man ever and someone who will have to take his head out his butt hole to see where the ball is coming from? Do I put them in and see what carnage occurs? Maybe I bench them and try to find some excuses for them not to play. We’re not going on skills sets here, hell I hadn’t picked up a netball in 15 years up until last May, but I do want to avoid red carding and public embarrassment. Equal opps an all though, I probably have to let them play.
To be honest they probably won’t be in the country for 99% of the games anyway and when they are here they are generally in meetings all day so the likelihood of them actually being able to play is slim. Also, I am quite liking the idea of being able to tell them what to do, especially Moon Monkey. Can you imagine it? “Monkey boy – hit the bench! You’re just not cutting out there!” Ah the power…..
At least we’re bound to draw a crowd. When word gets out that MM and Head up own arse man are playing people will come to support if only to gawk and point at the spectacle. Heck I might even bench myself just so I have a spectator’s view of MM sweating and panting around the court, his arms flailing helplessly as the ball rockets past and he’s pushed to the ground by an aggressive 5’ 2” woman from the office across the road. This is going to be a good season.
Thursday, 20 May 2010
Stomped Feet, Folded Arms
Everyone is kicking off today.
CJ is throwing her toys out of the pram about a variety of things. Just now she was practically shouting at Harley because he wouldn’t sign something for her and telling her she has to get a ‘higher authority’ to do it (what like the pope or something?). “But whyyyyyyyy?!” Just shut the hell up and deal with it woman. In the middle of it all Gunner made a marvelous display of stirring the pot by standing up to announce across the partition that this named ‘higher authority’ wouldn’t be in the office until Monday – and then sat down again. “Whaaaaattt?!” shrieks CJ and at this point Harley walks off before he says something he’ll regret.
Kirstie and I are sat the other side of the partition rolling our eyes, making threatening gestures and ‘V’ signs in CJ’s direction. I am SO glad I don’t sit there any more.
Harley was the next to kick off, this time about a meeting that’s been organised for 3pm on a Friday. He came stomping round to Kirstie’s desk and demanded to know why this one had to be on a Friday at 3pm (if he can help it Harley either has flexi or is working from home on a Friday). She didn’t know, she didn’t arrange the meeting, just sent out the email. Off he stomps again. 5 minutes later back he stomps. “But why 3pm on a Friday?! That’s stupid; he won’t be popular for that!” Kirstie goes on to explain why this meeting has to be then, how it ties in with everything else etc. It actually makes a lot of sense even though I know I’d be pissed off if someone made me attend a 3pm meeting on a Friday. Now Moody is turning into Kevin the Teenager “Oh god, it’s so unfair!” At this point Kirstie actually tells Harley to tuck in his bottom lip and man up! He he. You know who runs the ship round here! So off he stomps again.
More tantrums were earlier in the day and this time from Kirstie herself on the phone to her husband. We all know a lot about Kirstie’s husband, probably more than he would like and she has often said if he ever found out what she says about him at work he’d be mortified. For example we know about their sex life, the fact that he came home wasted the other evening after some works drinks and pee’d up the wall in the bathroom, that he’s worried about aging and uses creams and lotions and ointments, that he loves going to Harvey Nicks with her shopping and Claridges for afternoon tea (ironically this guy is massive and a prison warden) plus an abundance of other revelations. Anyway I digress. They were arguing on the phone earlier about stuff they are buying for their bathroom and she got really shirty with him. That low and angry voice came into play, very threatening and dark and then a curt “bye” and the phone slammed down. “I hate him!” I gave her a raised eyebrow and smirk and got back “No I really do hate him!” Then he calls back and there is more of the same and then ½ an hour later he calls back again and she’s saying “I love you, I love you, I love you!” Jesus, it’s like an episode of Corrie.
I have yet to throw my toys out of any prams or have a phone argument or stick my bottom lip out but there is still 15 minutes left in my working day so never say never. Actually I’m in a lot better mood today, less of the grumps and more of the grins. Plus it’s been quite entertaining here and I have my smacking spoon to hand.
CJ is throwing her toys out of the pram about a variety of things. Just now she was practically shouting at Harley because he wouldn’t sign something for her and telling her she has to get a ‘higher authority’ to do it (what like the pope or something?). “But whyyyyyyyy?!” Just shut the hell up and deal with it woman. In the middle of it all Gunner made a marvelous display of stirring the pot by standing up to announce across the partition that this named ‘higher authority’ wouldn’t be in the office until Monday – and then sat down again. “Whaaaaattt?!” shrieks CJ and at this point Harley walks off before he says something he’ll regret.
Kirstie and I are sat the other side of the partition rolling our eyes, making threatening gestures and ‘V’ signs in CJ’s direction. I am SO glad I don’t sit there any more.
Harley was the next to kick off, this time about a meeting that’s been organised for 3pm on a Friday. He came stomping round to Kirstie’s desk and demanded to know why this one had to be on a Friday at 3pm (if he can help it Harley either has flexi or is working from home on a Friday). She didn’t know, she didn’t arrange the meeting, just sent out the email. Off he stomps again. 5 minutes later back he stomps. “But why 3pm on a Friday?! That’s stupid; he won’t be popular for that!” Kirstie goes on to explain why this meeting has to be then, how it ties in with everything else etc. It actually makes a lot of sense even though I know I’d be pissed off if someone made me attend a 3pm meeting on a Friday. Now Moody is turning into Kevin the Teenager “Oh god, it’s so unfair!” At this point Kirstie actually tells Harley to tuck in his bottom lip and man up! He he. You know who runs the ship round here! So off he stomps again.
More tantrums were earlier in the day and this time from Kirstie herself on the phone to her husband. We all know a lot about Kirstie’s husband, probably more than he would like and she has often said if he ever found out what she says about him at work he’d be mortified. For example we know about their sex life, the fact that he came home wasted the other evening after some works drinks and pee’d up the wall in the bathroom, that he’s worried about aging and uses creams and lotions and ointments, that he loves going to Harvey Nicks with her shopping and Claridges for afternoon tea (ironically this guy is massive and a prison warden) plus an abundance of other revelations. Anyway I digress. They were arguing on the phone earlier about stuff they are buying for their bathroom and she got really shirty with him. That low and angry voice came into play, very threatening and dark and then a curt “bye” and the phone slammed down. “I hate him!” I gave her a raised eyebrow and smirk and got back “No I really do hate him!” Then he calls back and there is more of the same and then ½ an hour later he calls back again and she’s saying “I love you, I love you, I love you!” Jesus, it’s like an episode of Corrie.
I have yet to throw my toys out of any prams or have a phone argument or stick my bottom lip out but there is still 15 minutes left in my working day so never say never. Actually I’m in a lot better mood today, less of the grumps and more of the grins. Plus it’s been quite entertaining here and I have my smacking spoon to hand.
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