Welcome to Part 2. Friday afternoon and the end is in sight. This has been a bloody long week and I’m ready for my 1st pint of cider now thank you very much. Didn’t touch a drop at lunch today, went for a chokey cola and was very good – not sure why, maybe my liver was sending messages to my subconscious “Please no more! Just give me one day without the booze!” Won’t last though as I’m on my way out tonight for what will probably be a fairly drunken affair. And I’m damn well looking forward to it, even if Liver isn’t.
But I digress, this is a blog about my working world not the social on goings on Nancy Clueless and I’m afraid that is the way it will stay you nosey parkers. Unless play happens to encroach on work in some way, which it does on the odd occasion. But you’ll have to wait for those.
So back to this week. So far I’ve undergone 2 ½ days of some of the worst training experiences of my life, almost bludgeoned an old fat twat of a man to death with the arm of my chair (which I have ripped off through rage) and ranted a lot about people who er, rant. Now on to the fun stuff, the non-working work stuff, I am of course talking about the annual work rounders competition / BBQ. Last year I missed this event for some reason, much to my annoyance. Apparently it pissed it down with rain so there wasn’t much rounders and the focus was more on the BBQ and drinking side of things which sounds fine to me. This year (namely this Tues just passed) we were more fortunate and the weather held out at least for the rounders match so we managed to fit 3 innings in. The chose playing field was a local park located very conveniently next to the pub we moved on to afterwards.
Beer was supplied during the match so as you can guess the rules were a bit shaky and there was a bit of rugby tackling at 4th post going on in order to stop any ‘rounders’ being made. All in good spirits of course. There were about half of the netball team (not currently injured) playing as well so I warned everyone not to get hurt as we had 2 matches the next day. Famous last words. About 1 inning in one of my team simply fell over his own feet as his Achilles went snap and he literally had to crawl to the side lines. He was soon after taken over to the pub for some bandaging and ice packs. Then during the last round another one fell foul to a hard rounders ball smack in the face. Right on the cheek bone. Being a Scottish lass she claimed she was fine and stayed on for about 5 minutes before almost passing out and being dragged off by concerned First Aiders. Again, another one packed off to the pub for some sugary drinks and an ice pack.
For fucks sakes.
Anyone else for an injury? Anyone else more to the point, on my netball team who wants to bash themselves up?! Ah well, carry on. I think possibly our company and sport are not a good combination, I’m glad we get free health care here.
We lose by 1 rounder (I think the other team were lying about their score and the ref was easily led after 3 cans of Becks) but it’s all fun and frolics and I’m impressed by the amount of people up for a game. There must have been 20 odd people playing and another 20 on the sidelines. One of the guys from Finance is particularly good, hitting a rounder and running the whole thing in his socks carrying a beer. Impressive. He was on my team.
With the game done we all walk/limp/blindly stumble over to the pub where there is a tab behind the bar (no spirits mind…) and food being handed out. Must be about 50 of us in the beer garden which shows that when it comes to work socials you can forget the high brow theatre or tickets to the ballet, all we want is a burger and some free booze. Gunner is already fairly inebriated after the 5 cans he had in the park and some other people are well on their way. The cripple and smashed face chick are both sitting waiting at a table with the first aider who is also getting plastered. Self administering alcohol seems to be the chosen prescription for the evening for them. I managed to get quite a few pints I before the tab got used up (which was at about 10.45pm) but managed to get drunk but not dunk enough that I wasn’t able to enjoy watching all the wasted people around me.
Some highlights of the evening:
Gunner. Just Gunner in general, he was mahoofinated by about 9pm and turned into the right old Saaaaaaf Laaaandan geezer he is. Very good value for money and managed to pack away 2 of the massive burgers off the BBQ too.
The Finance Team. These people are serious drinkers and when they drink they are excessively funny. In particular is the massively camp South African guy who ends up coming on to anything with a todger in the bar who he works with and had me promising to make a secret pact with him to get people ‘talking more’ at work. I promised because I was a little scared. I will try but I can’t promise anything. There’s also the little Ozzy girl who works with him who was out on the infamous Netball drinks last week too. She’s always “I’m just staying for one” and then one of the last to leave and one of the only people I know who actually likes Chardonnay. There is a long running joke about how she pronounces ‘decking’ ‘dicking’ so we have many an hour of fun with that. “I got some great dicking at the weekend….”
The pub staff bringing out huge golfing umbrellas for us when it rained so we could stay in the pub garden – class.
My Co-Captain of the Netball team. She don’t drink much, in fact as far as I can tell she don’t get out much at all so she was totally off the wagon and going for it. Cue telling some of her work colleagues exactly what she thinks of them, ice cream fights where innocent by-standers get caught in the cross fire, holding hands with the dude in his socks all night (she is soon to be married) and generally being loud and mouthy. Love it.
Trying to find out about the cute guy from Risk for a mate – is he single, does he fancy her? I went over on the attack with a very drunk partner in crime who initially scared him away with her screeching, demanding high fives from everyone around her but I managed to claw him back and find out a bit about him. He is very cute and a nice bloke too. Didn’t find out if he fancies her though. Yesterday she came running over to my desk asking exactly what I had said as she was rather embarrassed. I assured her nothing had been said to imply she liked him so she was relieved about that. However she then went on to tell me that at one point she had lifted up his t-shirt and had a good feel of his six-pack at the bar. Er and you were worried about what I had said?
I ended up offering to cycle the cripples bike home for him as he lives 5 mins from my house. He was eternally grateful but then started to get a bit too grateful and said things like “you can come in for a coffee when you drop it back” Hmmmmm. How about I don’t do that? Gunner told me to watch myself as he’s a bit of a hussy. Oh joy. He left me lights, a helmet, everything I needed so at 11.30pm I started to wobble back. Forgot to lower the flippin’ seat though didn’t he? So it was tippy-toe cycling for 9km. I got to his, dumped the bike and refused to coffee. He then insisted on walking me to the bus stop even though he couldn’t walk. While I was waiting with him for said bus Gunner text me with:
“Has he treis to lock yu in his cuspord yet?”
Which I think translates into “Has he tried to lock you in his cupboard yet?” He didn’t but he did start to ask about my partner and when I said I didn’t have one and he looked hopeful thank god the bus turned up.
The next day I was feeling fine until 11am and half way through training. The hangover kicked in big time but I think others were feeling it more. Gunner was a wreck, the mouthy Co-Captain had to go home at 9.30am and apparently threw up on every station on the Victoria Line and there were some dark rings around eyes all over the company. I then had to find people to populate my now diminishing netball team and we played 2 games back to back in the sun. So you can imagine I felt 10 times feckin’ worse after that. Eugh.
Had an email go round on the Thursday from the Sports and Social Committee asking if anyone had ‘accidentally’ removed an umbrella from the pub and taken it home as they were asking after them. About 30 seconds after I’d read it Gunner pipes up with:
“So THAT’S where that umbrella came from!”
Friday, 30 July 2010
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Come back CJ all is forgiven
Right then, I’m back, on form and no where near a bar or netball court so all is good so far today. There’s quite a lot to catch you up on (I have a feeling this may be a 2 parter – ooh sequels!) so make yourself a cuppa, get comfy and read on….
If you cast your mind back to a few weeks ago you’ll know that there was much to-ing and fro-ing about my training dates and fellow trainee colleagues. At one point I was in a nice group with Ginger and Gunner and sane people and then I was in one with Saffa and then she dropped out and it would have been me and Harley and that Dickface and then it was changed again and I was with CJ and then Kirstie moved me to the non-CJ group. However, little did we know that this was a bad, bad move and by the end of 2 ½ days we would both be ready to commit GBH or worse and welcome CJ back into any training group with open arms. Yes it was that bad.
The group I ended up in was me, Kirstie, Moody, The Little Scottish Guy (LSG) and this guy who I luckily don’t have to work with on a daily basis. He’s an old bloke, totally old school industry, doesn’t like change, thinks his way is the best way and everyone else is wrong. The kind of person who will moan about everything and anything and if there’s nothing there to moan about he’ll create something. Even if you handed him the best situation in the world ever he’d find something wrong with it and tell you about it. And he’d go on and on and on and on…… I’m not sure what to call him as I’d like to call him a lot of rude words but the name Twatheadarseholeshitforbrains is a bit hard to write out again and again and I don’t want to come across as being too potty mouthed. We’ll call him ‘Tard as that is what he was, a complete retarded numpty moaning old fart.
Now you know who I have to deal with you’ll follow me over to the small, windowless training room on Monday morning. Our 2 trainers (poor guys) have gone to a lot of effort to put together training packs and a training system and try and work out a well balanced course. It all starts off ok until we start delving into this new database thingy. ‘Tard begins his first grumble about the system and trainer 1 combats this quite well managing to shut him up quickly. However, as the day progresses things get worse and worse and the trainers get more and more exasperated. Half the problem is that ‘Tard isn’t listening properly or hasn’t understood what they are saying so most of his arguments are redundant anyway. You can’t tell him that though, god forbid, you’d be wrong of course.
By break 1 me and Kirstie are seething and want to go back to our desks now please. Or maybe just eject ‘Tard from the training course? Evict him, let him go, paid redundancy maybe? It’s for the best. By lunch I am considering moving on to physical violence as it seems that would be the only way to get through to him. By the afternoon trainer 1 has had enough and asks if the conversation could be left until after the training as we need to move on. It’s all come down to some terminology that they are using in the system (just in the system, nothing outside the system changes and it’s internal and for recording information – get over it) that is different to what we use now. Trainer 1 offers to have a meeting about it after the course – “well what’s the point you won’t change it anyway” replies ‘Tard. It’s too late, I’m beyond anger now and I can’t help myself.
“SO WHY NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT IT THEN?!”
* tumbleweed *
Moment of silence, apparently LSG’s face was a picture of surprise. Nothing is said, I can feel Kirstie trying to suppress a giggle and the trainer sees his opportunity to move on and get away from this old fart’s whining. Well, I couldn’t help it, he’s lucky I was as polite as I was. Let’s hope he has got the hint.
Oh no it appears he hasn’t.
So imagine 2 ½ days of this. 9am-5pm stuck in this room doing what is already very boring training that’s being made even longer by this obnoxious, arrogant dinosaur’s moaning. He’s fucking rude as well, if I were the trainer I would have asked him to leave by now (this is at 10.30am on day 1) or said something about his attitude. Trainer 1 has the patience of a saint it has to be said. Plus ‘Tard is a complete retard when it comes to the exercises. Again, he’s not listening to anything so as soon as we start it’s “what are we doing?” “how do I log in?” Er you log in just like the last 20 times you have logged in. Seriously, I have known 3 month old kittens with more computer know-how. This again prolongs the training and it takes us 1 hour to do the first exercise which I would have completed in 15 minutes on my own. I know everyone moves at different paces when they’re working on things like this, not everyone is savvy with computers or software or whatever, I get that. What annoyed me beyond the realms of rage was that he was just not even trying to get it and not following instruction when he should. Get the fuck off the BBC news website and listen and then maybe you’d get it you wanker.
This carried on for the rest of the course; he even moaned about the sandwiches we got for the lunch on Tuesday, I thought Kirstie might stab him with a fruit kebab at that point. Then Moody starts joining in in the afternoon on Day 2, jumps right on the bandwagon and before we know it we’re into half hour conversations about god knows what. I switched off. Half the course doesn’t even apply to my role anyway and I have no idea what they are discussing and have no reason to care. I don’t chose to hide my boredom or exasperation of it all and sit colouring in my manual or going through my phone (no feckin’ phone signal down there either?!).
By day 3 I am hung-over, tired and ready to ram my keyboard…hell lets chuck the mouse and VDU in there for good measure…..right up ‘Tard’s arse. I am willing 12.30 onwards but time seems to have stopped, as has the course content again. Oh joy. Kirstie and I are in agreement that training with CJ could no be as painful as this course has been and that if possible we will never have anything to do with ‘Tard again in any way shape or form. Twat, twat, twat. I’m even passing notes to Kirstie like a 13 year old school girl. One of them has an arrow pointing towards him with the words MASSIVE MASSIVE RETARD on it. Unfortunately Kirstie is a big giggler and this starts her off, she’s trying not to but it makes it worse and she’s howling after a few seconds. We even get asked “what’s so funny?” by trainer 2! I am back in French GCSE with Mme Kerland again. My brain is ready to explode over the walls (I’d say windows but as we know there aren’t any) and I’m actually looking forward to getting back to my desk and normal work.
Bad times.
I bumped into ‘Tard in the kitchen this morning and he started asking me what I thought of the course. I chose not to say much as I wasn’t sure where this might lead and I can’t be held accountable for my actions when dealing with toss pots like him. Luckily he got the hint and left with his coffee. I’m sure it wasn’t strong enough though, or hot enough, or had enough milk…..
Sigh. Just even typing about this has got me all tensed up! The rage was at points bordering on uncontrollable. I could go on for hours….oh look I already did!
This rant is over for today. I’m hoping I won’t have reason to rant any more about ‘Tard as I will never have to be in a situation like that again. Next time I’m picking CJ and I’ll sit next to her and even make conversation!
Part 2 shall arrive tomorrow which will mainly involve the reasons for my hangover yesterday. Don’t worry it’s all work related and has many a funny tale – it’s also a lot less ranty and angry. I never can be when alcohols involved.
If you cast your mind back to a few weeks ago you’ll know that there was much to-ing and fro-ing about my training dates and fellow trainee colleagues. At one point I was in a nice group with Ginger and Gunner and sane people and then I was in one with Saffa and then she dropped out and it would have been me and Harley and that Dickface and then it was changed again and I was with CJ and then Kirstie moved me to the non-CJ group. However, little did we know that this was a bad, bad move and by the end of 2 ½ days we would both be ready to commit GBH or worse and welcome CJ back into any training group with open arms. Yes it was that bad.
The group I ended up in was me, Kirstie, Moody, The Little Scottish Guy (LSG) and this guy who I luckily don’t have to work with on a daily basis. He’s an old bloke, totally old school industry, doesn’t like change, thinks his way is the best way and everyone else is wrong. The kind of person who will moan about everything and anything and if there’s nothing there to moan about he’ll create something. Even if you handed him the best situation in the world ever he’d find something wrong with it and tell you about it. And he’d go on and on and on and on…… I’m not sure what to call him as I’d like to call him a lot of rude words but the name Twatheadarseholeshitforbrains is a bit hard to write out again and again and I don’t want to come across as being too potty mouthed. We’ll call him ‘Tard as that is what he was, a complete retarded numpty moaning old fart.
Now you know who I have to deal with you’ll follow me over to the small, windowless training room on Monday morning. Our 2 trainers (poor guys) have gone to a lot of effort to put together training packs and a training system and try and work out a well balanced course. It all starts off ok until we start delving into this new database thingy. ‘Tard begins his first grumble about the system and trainer 1 combats this quite well managing to shut him up quickly. However, as the day progresses things get worse and worse and the trainers get more and more exasperated. Half the problem is that ‘Tard isn’t listening properly or hasn’t understood what they are saying so most of his arguments are redundant anyway. You can’t tell him that though, god forbid, you’d be wrong of course.
By break 1 me and Kirstie are seething and want to go back to our desks now please. Or maybe just eject ‘Tard from the training course? Evict him, let him go, paid redundancy maybe? It’s for the best. By lunch I am considering moving on to physical violence as it seems that would be the only way to get through to him. By the afternoon trainer 1 has had enough and asks if the conversation could be left until after the training as we need to move on. It’s all come down to some terminology that they are using in the system (just in the system, nothing outside the system changes and it’s internal and for recording information – get over it) that is different to what we use now. Trainer 1 offers to have a meeting about it after the course – “well what’s the point you won’t change it anyway” replies ‘Tard. It’s too late, I’m beyond anger now and I can’t help myself.
“SO WHY NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT IT THEN?!”
* tumbleweed *
Moment of silence, apparently LSG’s face was a picture of surprise. Nothing is said, I can feel Kirstie trying to suppress a giggle and the trainer sees his opportunity to move on and get away from this old fart’s whining. Well, I couldn’t help it, he’s lucky I was as polite as I was. Let’s hope he has got the hint.
Oh no it appears he hasn’t.
So imagine 2 ½ days of this. 9am-5pm stuck in this room doing what is already very boring training that’s being made even longer by this obnoxious, arrogant dinosaur’s moaning. He’s fucking rude as well, if I were the trainer I would have asked him to leave by now (this is at 10.30am on day 1) or said something about his attitude. Trainer 1 has the patience of a saint it has to be said. Plus ‘Tard is a complete retard when it comes to the exercises. Again, he’s not listening to anything so as soon as we start it’s “what are we doing?” “how do I log in?” Er you log in just like the last 20 times you have logged in. Seriously, I have known 3 month old kittens with more computer know-how. This again prolongs the training and it takes us 1 hour to do the first exercise which I would have completed in 15 minutes on my own. I know everyone moves at different paces when they’re working on things like this, not everyone is savvy with computers or software or whatever, I get that. What annoyed me beyond the realms of rage was that he was just not even trying to get it and not following instruction when he should. Get the fuck off the BBC news website and listen and then maybe you’d get it you wanker.
This carried on for the rest of the course; he even moaned about the sandwiches we got for the lunch on Tuesday, I thought Kirstie might stab him with a fruit kebab at that point. Then Moody starts joining in in the afternoon on Day 2, jumps right on the bandwagon and before we know it we’re into half hour conversations about god knows what. I switched off. Half the course doesn’t even apply to my role anyway and I have no idea what they are discussing and have no reason to care. I don’t chose to hide my boredom or exasperation of it all and sit colouring in my manual or going through my phone (no feckin’ phone signal down there either?!).
By day 3 I am hung-over, tired and ready to ram my keyboard…hell lets chuck the mouse and VDU in there for good measure…..right up ‘Tard’s arse. I am willing 12.30 onwards but time seems to have stopped, as has the course content again. Oh joy. Kirstie and I are in agreement that training with CJ could no be as painful as this course has been and that if possible we will never have anything to do with ‘Tard again in any way shape or form. Twat, twat, twat. I’m even passing notes to Kirstie like a 13 year old school girl. One of them has an arrow pointing towards him with the words MASSIVE MASSIVE RETARD on it. Unfortunately Kirstie is a big giggler and this starts her off, she’s trying not to but it makes it worse and she’s howling after a few seconds. We even get asked “what’s so funny?” by trainer 2! I am back in French GCSE with Mme Kerland again. My brain is ready to explode over the walls (I’d say windows but as we know there aren’t any) and I’m actually looking forward to getting back to my desk and normal work.
Bad times.
I bumped into ‘Tard in the kitchen this morning and he started asking me what I thought of the course. I chose not to say much as I wasn’t sure where this might lead and I can’t be held accountable for my actions when dealing with toss pots like him. Luckily he got the hint and left with his coffee. I’m sure it wasn’t strong enough though, or hot enough, or had enough milk…..
Sigh. Just even typing about this has got me all tensed up! The rage was at points bordering on uncontrollable. I could go on for hours….oh look I already did!
This rant is over for today. I’m hoping I won’t have reason to rant any more about ‘Tard as I will never have to be in a situation like that again. Next time I’m picking CJ and I’ll sit next to her and even make conversation!
Part 2 shall arrive tomorrow which will mainly involve the reasons for my hangover yesterday. Don’t worry it’s all work related and has many a funny tale – it’s also a lot less ranty and angry. I never can be when alcohols involved.
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Apologies
I know I promised a full update today but my brain isn’t working and I couldn’t promise scathing wit and vengeful rantings so I’m going to take a rain check until tomorrow. It seems that 2 ½ days of training in a windowless box with a bunch of retarded 5 year olds and then a night of drinking and 2 games of netball have destroyed my ability to do……….anything. Agh. Roll on 5.30pm.
I will however promise you rants, laughter, drunken takes, more sports related injuries, random bike rides, hangovers, gripping netball matches and office romance. Well in one form or another. So plenty to loo forward to.
I’m off to have a sleep in a filing cupboard.
I will however promise you rants, laughter, drunken takes, more sports related injuries, random bike rides, hangovers, gripping netball matches and office romance. Well in one form or another. So plenty to loo forward to.
I’m off to have a sleep in a filing cupboard.
Monday, 26 July 2010
Training / Torture
You won’t hear much from me until Wednesday this week as I’m on a training course. Yes THE training course that I have been dreading for weeks. Just finished day one and I’m happy to report that my dreading hasn’t been in vain. It’s bloody awful for a plethora of reasons which I won’t go into now as I don’t have the time or the energy to do so but I’m sure it’ll make for a good read come Wednesday. Something for you to look forward to. That is if I am still alive and able to write to you and haven’t taken my own life in a vain attempt to save myself from the torment. Today I came very close on a couple of occasions to shoving my pencil up my nose so it’s a bit touch and go.
Tomorrow is apparently ‘more intensive’ and we will cover more and will finish at 5pm and not 3.30pm. I may have to swallow some rescue remedy before hand or just smoke some grade A drugs to calm me or I will smash one of my fellow trainees in the face or testicals with my keyboard.
Until Wednesday.
Tomorrow is apparently ‘more intensive’ and we will cover more and will finish at 5pm and not 3.30pm. I may have to swallow some rescue remedy before hand or just smoke some grade A drugs to calm me or I will smash one of my fellow trainees in the face or testicals with my keyboard.
Until Wednesday.
Friday, 23 July 2010
All the fun of the fair
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?
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?
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.
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