My boss must die...!!

Hello all, hope you're all well.  I realise it's been ages since my last post, but I've not really had much to write about. 

Now however, I've found something to let off steam over.

I've been working at this company for 7 and a half years now, which is 1/4 of my life.  That's a pretty significant investment of time on my part, and while I am not badly paid for my work of late there has been a distinct lack of respect.

Now, in his defence (as limited as it may be) the boss has been stressed out about getting our new office sorted out, although it's taken him about 8 months so far when he initially wanted us to be in around March time.  We're now moving on July 1st, and yes some things have been going wrong towards the back end of the project.

However, treating your staff with some common courtesy doesn't seem like too much to ask of an employer.

It's apparent for all to see that as a man manager the bloke is useless.  He doesn't unite or motivate his staff, he doesn't lead by example, he just expects people to get on with it.  Which is all well and good, and most of us are more than capable of doing that.  He doesn't seem to realise though that his comments are often demotivational, and make people want to not put their all into their work.

For years he's been well known for his back-tracking.  He'll tell you to do something, and then when it backfires he'll ask why you did it, it pisses us all off no end.  He wants to take no responsibility for these things, and as a classic example just the other day we got a bollocking for not holding shipments to customers who are late paying.  Then 24 hours later he's telling us to release a shipment to a customer who hasn't paid... now come on fella... you can't have it every which way.  What the f*ck do you actually want us to do?  Or was it simply a case that you went off on one without actually really engaging your brain first?!

A couple of days ago an invoice came back in the post as undelivered.  Now the accounts department happens to consist of his wife, on the odd occasion that she bothers showing up, so of course it can't have been her fault that it had been returned.  The most obvious reason for it coming back was the lack of a country written on the envelope (lets give the poor old posites a hand shall we and tell them what country to go to?!), to which his response to me was "well does she know it's in Hungary?  She's not a f*cking mind-reader".  How the f*ck do I know if she knows it's in Hungary?  I'm not the one who asked her to post it, and I'm sure as hell not a f*cking mind-reader either... if I was a mind-reader I might have some outside chance of understanding how your mind works while you're off in your own little world.  If she doesn't know what country it's in then maybe it's an idea to check, instead of just f*cking sending it?!

At this point I was starting to think that the 10 years or so in prison for killing him would be time well spent, and lets face it prison doesn't sound too bad... Sky TV, gym, internet... and I'm sure you'd get used to the buggery.

So we move on to yesterday, and some stuff needed doing at the new office.  I was there at 8am (which is 15 minutes before I technically start work).  I swept the whole of the warehouse, separated a big stack of rubbish and recycling, moved some carpet upstairs, unboxed the carpet, and helped clean down the front of the building with some caravan cleaner and a pressure washer. 

I was shattered after that, and didn't think we'd done too bad for 4 and a bit hours.  Then it was back to the current office to sort anything that needed doing here, the stuff that's actually in my job description!!

So, while I was out for my lunchtime stroll, when I finally got my lunch break yesterday) the boss turns to my mate K and says "I was hoping he might break a sweat this morning, but no".  You f*cking what?!  You laid on your back and fitted a new pop-up waste to the bathroom sink which somehow took you about 3 hours, and you're going to make snide comments behind my back about me not breaking a sweat?  I worked my arse off yesterday morning, and that's the thanks I get?

Well, maybe it's time for you to see how you like it without me?  Job ads... here I come.

And if any of you know a cheap hitman then let me know.

Laters peoples.

"don't stack it"

Those were the last words of my boss as he got into a transit van, after giving me the keys to his Audi. 

Now given that his Audi is a diesel, and my total experience driving a diesel car before stood at about 10 minutes this morning, most of which time was spent re-starting the thing after stalling 5 times pulling out of my road, I was somewhat surprised to be handed the keys.

In my defence for the whole stalling thing, not only had I never driven a diesel before, I'd never been told anything about them either.  So I learne the hard way that you have to rev them a lot higher than a petrol engine when pulling away... might have been nice if Pete had mentioned that when he dropped the courtesy car off last night!!

Oh, right... yeah... I'm driving a courtesy car (diesel Mondeo for anyone who's interested) because the Megane is back in the garage... hopefully this time they're just going to put a new gearbox in and be done with it.  That remains to be seen though, as does how long it's going to leave me lumbered with this hideous Ford!!

Ah yes, the point I wanted to make when I started this blog is that I am, apparently, now trusted with the boss' car... all hail me!!

Yes, I made a mistake, now f off

Ok, so we all know at least one person in the office who likes to be the boss' pet, and shit stirs whenever someone else gets something wrong, at least anyone who works will know one... any students reading this will probably know a fellow student who does similar.

Well our one of those people is a Nuneaton based cross dressing German arse-bandit who shall remain nameless.

So, perish the thought that anyone actually be fallible, but it seems that I have failed to live up to his impossibly high standards.

I got an email from my mate in the office, and forgot to delete her comments before sending it to a customer, now it's not like there was anything bad on there, but I admit it is something I should have erased first.

Having sent the email I realised my mistake, and said to my mate that I should've deleted them but hadn't, but what can you do at this point?  Nothing.

So, the customer replies, no problems at all.

Then a couple of minutes later aforementioned freak of nature sends an email to me, my mate, and just has to copy the boss on it because it's another stick to beat us mere mortals with.

I am well aware of the fact that those comments should "NEVER" (capitalisation is from his email) have reached the customer, but do you really have to run off and tell daddy on me you pathetic shit-stirring numpty?!

Seriously, just fucking grow a pair, and if you have a problem with me then talk to ME about it.

Anyway, shouldn't you be busy sending emails to customers from the wrong email account, cos you aint perfect either my friend!!

Rant over!!

Grrr

So, the new car is now back in the garage having the gearbox looked at... which is just what you want in an automatic car... gearbox problems.  From a quick browse around the net I reckon it's a couple of solenoids need replacing, it seems a fairly common issue.  Hopefully it wont take too long to fix as I've not had chance to take it out for a long drive yet.

Anyway, for the time being I am without automobile... which makes Asda's f*ckwittery all the more irritating.

We were expecting a delivery from Asda last night, it was confirmed for between 18:00 and 20:00, we're fairly low on quite a few things, so it would certainly have been useful to have the shopping turn up.

Sadly nobody decided to tell Asda that when we book a delivery slot that we expect them to deliver in it!!

After they were an hour late the missus tried calling customer services, 16 minutes on hold later she gave up, and came seeking my advice... a further 20 minutes on hold later we were through to someone.

So, what useful bit of information did they give us... oh, the delivery has been rejected by the local store, I can't tell you why because there's nobody there now.  Ah... that's helpful isn't it!!

Do we want the delivery rescheduled for first thing this morning... well we work... so no!!  What do we want you to do... cancel the bloody order, and we'll go to Tesco!!

So, we still have no shopping, and the missus has a complaint letter to write to Asda about how bloody useless they are!!  There wasn't even an offer of any compensation!!

Spawnicus disease

I call it Spawnicus disease because diseases are often named after the first victim.

Spawnicus disease is, essentially, a cold that wont go away, and therefore is infinitely worse than any other disease known to man!!

I have now been ill for just about 2 weeks with this bloody thing, and just can't shift it.  In fact this morning I feel worse than I have done for about a week... why am I getting worse again?!

Once I complete my world domination I will have my top scientists working on a cure for this debilitating illness... until then, can someone pass me the tissues?!

Get out of the f'ing way!!

So I left my house this morning, and outside the next door neighbour's was some random woman in a Vauxhall somethingorother.  Just sitting in her car, engine off, in the middle of the road, with cars on both sides.

So I've gotten in my car, and switched the engine on, thinking that would prompt her to move... it didn't.  I sounded the horn, thinking that would prompt her to move... it didn't... then I edged forwards so that she could see I was pulling out, and sounded the horn again... she still sat there doing nothing... only this time I got some strange gesture... I think she was signalling that she was waiting for the girl who lives next door to me, or she could have been saying it was the name of a book, 1 word, 4 syllables...

Finally the girl next door got in the car, and off they went.  Now why on earth could this woman not have pulled her car into the gigantic gap on the left just in front of her so that I could pass? 

Does she think she owns the road or something?!  She doesn't own the road, it's MY road... I've lived in it nearly all my life... actually by that logic it's Doris' road, she's lived there since it was all mud huts and the only traffic was the occasional stegosaurus wandering through.

But I digress... random Vauxhall woman, next time you get in my way I'm going to slash your tyres... promptly followed by your face... not that it would make you look any worse.

Rant over

Cars...

So the little Ignis is finally dying a death, the catalyst is shot to pieces, it gets through petrol like there's no tomorrow, the back passenger side tyre leaks air faster than a punctured beach ball, the windscreen has at least 3 noticeable chips in it, and it's just generally had it.

So I started looking around for another car a few weeks ago, an automatic so the other half can drive it (if I let her near my new car).

I've never liked estate cars, but I was on Autotrader and saw a Renault Megane estate (or to give it the proper name - Sports Tourer) and surprised myself by really liking the look of it.

Did a bit of reading up on them, and went to see it.  Drives like a dream, it's quiet and comfortable, with a few gadgets (most importantly aircon) to keep me going.

So having had the AA inspection done in it I'm waiting for it to be ready... and the wait is excruciating!! 

Unfortunately I've now decided I want a new model Megane Coupé... so before I've even got the Sports Tourer I'm planning it's replacement!!