Hell, work was too crap to right about and the pub characters are too awful to write about, I get hassle at least once a week and the place is now a sinkhole for folk in care homes who should be being supervised rather than being out getting drunk, and council estate sinkhole types. I need a new venue and a new life.
Well after a small pop bottle spec wearing little retarded more of a man attempted to issue me with instructions, man I just stayed out his way after that. Modern society and the over expansion of universities have created this world where the natural order of things is turned on its head.
Due to all the bank holidays and the combined greed of the agency and the employer, I’ve had to work a few days on the reverse shift, the never seen entities who work the other four days from us.
And they are cunts. The managers are cunts, the staff are cunts, the whole place takes on a totally cuntish atmosphere. Everyone seems to want to boss me about. Less overseas folk, more local council estate chav scum. I hate it. I have two more days on this shift and they stretch out like tortuous aeons.
I was told off for having a cup of coffee too late in the day! What bollocks is this!
I’m still in that hell-hole of a warehouse, which is now starting to swelter in the warm spring, being a big metal box with no aircon in the section where I work. The engineers in the workshop have it nice and cool for now but apparently their aircon breaks like anyone’s business so soon they will be suffering too. I would add “one hopes”, as most of them are dead chavvy yobs, especially the ones working on TVs who don’t wash their hands when they’ve been to the toilet.
But there’s a couple of nice ones who have brains and stuff and thank us for what we do, so I’ll let them off. A manager actually thanked me for my efforts the other day, after a mere 7 months, when I gave him my timesheet to be signed. OK, it wasn’t actually my manager/s who probably still think I’m a czech guy called Sylvester, but still.
I really ought to be using this journal to make a diary note of all the instances of the abusive and incompetent management not seen in my team so much but in the warehouse department, who like to abuse the polish staff especially (even the polish managers). Arselicking is routinely rewarded, there is one really gormless ginger cretin who I call Ron Weasely who seems do have done a lot of this to get into an “acting” manager position.
I’m such a coward. I want to create a scene, and put these ignorant thickos in their place. Because some of the behaviour I have seen (“Don’t you fucking walk off when I’m trying to fucking talk to you”) would be sackable in any other company I’ve worked for. But it would be the end of my job as well. Besides, I think such behaviour is regarded as “par for the course” in such an environment. The senior management probably encourage it.
Oh grow some, amber!
The Souka is the name the polish staff give the aforementioned chavy woman who likes gobbing off nastily at her staff. It means bitch, cow, that sort of thing.
Gobbing off, or you could say verbally amusing. Having a ten minute screaming fit with one of your underlings for a reason we couldn’t make out because of the volume and the chav accent and containing such phrases as “Don’t you turn your fucking back on me!” was what I might call unprofessional in the extreme. At my last place of employment it would have been a serious disciplinary matter, possibly a sacking if there was a proveable racial element.
She doesn’t seem to speak to english staff in the same manner. And all over what we think was a unauthorised request to change shifts.
About par for the managment though especially of that department (which isn’t mine) - thick, borderline illiterate thugs who love the sound of their own voices.
Company is doing really badly (as am I!!!) - profits and share prices tumbling, overtime ban (just as I was starting to do it) and I bet I’m not going to be put on a contract.
But strength sapped my moronity of work and moronity of company. Both are stuck records on an infinite (non) groove. Conversation bores me to the death of myself, unless it is with my eastern european friend. The pub is spewsome, but I’ve worked out a way of spending as little money as possible.
The great uwashed came, I hid in the racking for as long as possible, and ate all their food when they had gone home
The next stage of this excitement is tomorrow, when we are going to have the great unwashed public waft down on the sea air to see us in operation, us in our Luke Skywalker Return of the Jedi new uniforms, and expect them to be impressed at our beyond amazing operation, when I am going to want to scream violation! cheats! scamsters! fucking cretins with one GCSE between them! all the time.
My financial situation is dire because of this job. This month I’m doing 43 hour shifts for a take home of £650. Scamm company and scam agency. Cunts, in short.
I ought to write at greater length about the complete awfulness of today’s rebrand relaunch - hatred perhaps 0.001% reduced by the free provision of bacon rolls and polish doughnuts by the management - but these days, I’m always too tired, soulsapped and unsurprised by any naffness they spring.
At 6am they started playing Wagner to psych the troops up, as if we are all a bunch of gadget fixing nazis, followed by D:Ream and other so called inpspiring musics of rare levels of awfulness followed by a fashion parade of uniforms, a photomontage of…ummm…plastic boxes, and various quizzes. Whoop whoop went everyone
So I got told off for having a cup of coffee in the wrong place, very very sharply, by another self important managerial twat, this time of a more administrative bent. He was still really rude “Lose that NOW! I mean, lose that NOW!”
He meant that I should lose it, it being the cup of coffee, now, I take it. With it was some icy looking blonde woman, no doubt a higher up from head office, whom I would have thought he was trying really really hard to impress until I saw him today behaving like a cunt with no-one around.
Sick of all of them, and was scarlet spotted with rage and ranting away, until the nasty woman piped up in her rather manly voice and said unless I was going to say something to him I should be quiet…knowing that she is a tell tale I felt obliged to simmer down.
Polish H said just to be quiet and forget it, thus revealing why the overseas staff are treated like garbage - they are interested in hanging onto their jobs no matter what the cost.
Of course I fantasised about giving him a very posh voiced exact assessment of his nothing status in life, but as usual did nothing. COWARD!
Polish H is flogging himself like mad by the way. He insisted on going at warp speed all day, despite an exasperated Amber me telling him we would have nothing for tomorrow and would end up being bored or told to clean the floor. But going at any other than breakneck space is alien to him. If he is expecting a medal or a pay rise, he won’t get one.
Me, in protest at yesterday was on a bit of a go slow.