“You Shouldn’t Be On Facebook When You’re Ill!”

“You Shouldn’t Be On Facebook When You’re Ill!”

I’m well aware some of my fellow work Monkeys read my blogs, so this could be a bit controversial (although at my place I haven’t heard of anything like this)…

(“That’s not like one of your usual blogs, Nasty Evil Ninja!”)

I’m writing this and I am ill*.

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It’s ok – you probably won’t have to polish your shoes for my funeral, and stuff, but rest assured I the only possibly productive thing about me at the moment is my tramp-like mucus gland.

I feel like I’ve breathed in flames that have left my lungs and throat in tatters, my eyes are burning, head pounding, sneezing and coughing up bits of Kermit, and every damned joint in my body aches.

It is, without a doubt, A Shame For Me.

But, do you know what?  I can still get up and walk around.  I can get my own food and drink.  And I can use my laptop.

I say this because I have known several people who have got a bollocking from their work because they posted stuff on Facebook when they were ‘supposedly’ ill from work!

One friend removed all work people from their Facebook friends, because they got called in to see the Boss on their return to work, shown printouts of screen shots, and asked to explain.

So what had they been doing?

It wasn’t pictures of them out rollerblading and eating icecream.  It wasn’t them snorting cocaine off a hookers ample titties.  It wasn’t even for updating their status to show they were actually skiving off in Blackpool with their mates.

What one of their work ‘mates’ had reported them for was logging into Facebook.

Not posting anything, or even ‘liking’ anyone elses posts.  Just for showing up on the Instant Messenger as being online.

I raised the question: “Just how ill, exactly, do you have to be to stop you from logging in to Facebook?”

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I’ve had friends with multiple broken limbs and brain injuries who posted a status from their hospital bed.

A friend in Japan a few years ago was keeping people informed during the devastation of the earthquakes.

And just what the fuck is next?

Will people be facing disciplinary action if a colleague drives past their house and sees that *gasp* the filthy skiving bastards have SWITCHED ON THEIR TV?!?

And does switching on a TV take more effort than ever-so-lightly typing on a laptop that’s right next to your snotrags?

And why the Hell would any manager worth their salt not bitch-slap the stupid grass who would even THINK to dob someone in for any of that?

And woe betide anyone ‘ill’ who manages to drive or walk to see a Doctor…

how swine flu started. haha. i wish i was that pig

***EDIT***

Somewhat ironically, this blog was written over a week ago, and what followed was about 5 days of bed-ridden hallucinations and me being too bloody ill to post this!  Bah!  There was also a noticeable lack of posts from me on Facebook, which made this blog a bit redundant.  Bastard.

Hitler Was A Terrible Timekeeper/Got Milk?

Hitler Was A Terrible Timekeeper/Got Milk?

Milky milky

I’m only human.

Sometimes I fuck up, and fly off the handle for no good reason. This is extremely rare for me, because I usually keep my mouth closed when I should be tearing people apart for what they’ve done/said to me.

A few years back, I did a stint as a Security ‘Officer’ – basically sat in a 6ft X 6ft hut trying my best to avoid doing any actual work for 12 hour shifts.

Most people’s perception of Security Officers is of some jumped-up little Hitler who wears a uniform and suddenly thinks they’re some kind of Chief Of Police/Detective/Special Forces Soldier.

And you’d be absolutely right to think that. Most have more chips on their shoulders than a Lumberjack in a work-related disaster.

For instance, one of the ‘Officers’ on alternating shifts with me: I’m not a big coffee drinker. When I did drink coffee at work, I’d almost always have it black, therefore, if I bought a carton of milk, 99% of it would be wasted before it went off. After I’d worked at this place for around 18 months, I decided I wanted a plastic cup of coffee with some milk in for a change. I used a tiny splash of milk from an open carton in the fridge – not even so much that the naked eye would tell it had gone down. I finished my shift, went home, then came back to do the next shift.

“You’ve had my milk, haven’t you?” Was my greeting from the guard on duty.

“Uhhh…”

“Yes you have – I KNOW you have!”

“Yeah, ok. I had a tiny bit. How did you know?”

“I brought my scales in and weighed it!” He declared triumphantly.

Hitler xbox

 

What the fuck??? So either he weighed it ever day out of pure paranoia, or he just happened to bring in some scales (what the fuck is THAT about anyway???), and caught me the one time I did it!?

The other Guard there was even worse. He didn’t like me and was holding me back from promotions and ‘telling tales’. If I was ever 2 mins late he’d be 15 mins late next time I was taking over his shift. A proper Hitler, although he was kind-of my boss, so I never said anything.

One Sunday morning, I woke up late and rushed to work – riding in like a Nut-Nut and preparing myself for Cunto to have a go at me, because I was a whole FIVE MINUTES past the 7am start time!

Sure enough, as I opened the door he had that smug sarcastic look on his face, and theatrically looked from his watch to the clock on the wall a few times.

I went apeshit.

“It’s five fucking minutes! I got here as fast as I could and I’m rarely late, and lately you have been late EVERY SINGLE NIGHT and I’m getting just a bit pissed off with it….”

I trailed off because he was insistently pointing at the clock…

“WHAT?” I snarled.

“The clocks went back an hour last night – did you forget? You’re an hour early.” He said happily.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

screw you

 

Spiders In The Workplace???

Spiders In The Workplace???

How come you never see spiders in your workplace?

I mean, when you’re at home, it’s a pretty regular occurance to see a big old spiddy making a break for it across the living room carpet, or sat there on the wall trying to intimidate you.

The big buggers, I mean – not the little runts.

In all my time of working, I think I’ve witnessed one big spiddy at work.

You might say that it’s because of the work cleaners, but come on!  I’m pretty sure they’re crap compared to The Wife or Mother that every home should have!  Plus there are a lot more places at work that will never be touched.  So I’m not accepting that it’s the cleaners, because even then some of the critters are bound to have a little gallop around the place at some point.

So why at home and never at work???

Are all spiders dole-dossing, layabout, work-avoiding, adolescent scum???

The bastards.

The Ill Voice

The Ill Voice

We’ve all been there – you wake up dying to death of The Lurgy, and aside from being a bit worried about being dead, you realise that you have to phone in to work to tell them you’re ill.

Well, either that or you’ve decided you’re staying in bed for an All Day Shagging Sickie (yay!!!).

Either way, as soon as you dial that number, even if nothing is wrong with your actual voice in any way, you feel that you have to change your voice to The Ill Voice.

You could have a dismembered foot but when you call in for some reason you’ll feel you have to make your voice sound weak, broken, rough and pathetic.

Because I’m aware of this stupid play acting, the last time I had to call in sick I did a ‘normal’ voice.  It was a stomach upset and the start of flu-type lurgy, but I could speak normally.  They kept chasing me because they obviosuly didn’t think I was that ill!  They even asked me to call back later that day in case I’d miraculously recovered somehow in the space of a few hours?!

I know someone else who swore by smoking a cigarette as fast as she could immediately before calling in ill, just for the effect it had on her voice, making it meet the appropriate sick-sounding requirements.

Maybe I should start a campaign to allow people to call in ill without having to use The Sick Voice?  Raise awareness, and all that?

Do you use The Ill Voice?

If someone calls you up, do you think less of their reported illness if they’re not using The Ill voice?

Housing Benefit Rant

Housing Benefit Rant

I just glanced at the front of a local paper to see that there’s uproar because the Government is going to start paying out less for Housing Benefit.

They cry that it’s the worst possible time, with everyone already facing hardships, and it could make up to 500 claimants in Bromsgrove homeless – at great cost to society.

Utter bastards.  Yet again we’re being fkd over by the Government!!

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But…

Hang on a second…

I had a look in the article at the actual figures involved here…

It seems at present, Mr Johnny Doledosser can claim £250 in housing benefit for a one bedroom house, up to £400 for a bedroom home.  The cuts will mean Mr Doledosser will be out of pocket by over £400 per year for the one bedroom home, and over £1000 for his five bed mansion.

Those figures aren’t per month – they’re PER WEEK!!!

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Just to put that into perspective, I live in a three bedroom house where we pay £600 per month.  Yes – PER MONTH.

So by my reckoning, Mr Doledosser will, even after these ‘huge life threatening cuts’, still be getting paid more per month than I do for living in his one bedroom shed.

I shouldn’t care, anyway, because when I was made redundant I was refused a single penny of housing benefit whilst I was out of work and looking for a job.  The reason being that I’d worked all my life.

Which is a shame, because it seems that I’d have been able to pay my landlord all the rent AND still be bringing in more money than I am now working a full time job.

It strikes me that if I blow all my money on canabis resin, tracksuits and pit bull terriers, I can then jack in my job and earn a lot more money than I do now just in housing benefit.  Then claim all the other benefits that aren’t purely supposed to pay your rent on top.

Is it just me that thinks there’s something very Wrong here?

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Bottom Of The Legal Monkey Tree

Bottom Of The Legal Monkey Tree

It’s probably about time I gave you a Job Update, because I know some of you are nosey buggers.

I had a weeks training before starting the job, which was a mixture of information overload, boring procedures, learning how to use several (flawed, of course) databases, and a bit of a laugh with the trainers other trainee Monkeys, too!

I started wondering what the Hell would take us a week to learn for a job that is essentially at the bottom of the Legal Monkey Tree (especially as we’d already gone through a gruelling half day interview to get that far), and finished up realising that nothing can ever really prepare you for any job where you will be dealing primarily with The Public.

Public Monkeys are a whole new kettle of fish.  Whatever you think you know about a job, some Public Monkey will find something to completely stump or even shock you.

I basically have to provide Public Monkeys and Professional Monkeys with information and resolutions to situations to do with The Law.  This sounds fairly easy, but when you’re plunged into a completely foreign world using all kinds of unfathomable acronyms and technical language, this can be bloody hard work to try and answer the random questions that Public Monkeys will dream up.

On my first day going live, I was a lot like a rabbit caught in headlights.  I knew where the safety of the warren was, and was pretty familiar with the layout of the fields, but with a car bearing down on you like illuminated Death, getting back through the hedgerow without getting splattered was sometimes much harder than expected.

With each passing hour, I am learning more and more, and becoming more relaxed and confident in my ability to do this job.

And then, of course, Public Monkey asks for something so left-field it smashes you in your right ear!

This can be a downside to the job when Public Monkey is angry, knows more than you do about your job, or is just a plain bastard.

This is a definite upside when you can help Public Monkey through their despair, or if they’re a bit… umm… you know… a bit of a Frothy-Mouthed Gaa-Gaa.

A prime example of this so far has been a Monkey who, when offered the choice of legal aid for his case, launched into a rant about how legal aid was:

a) A Government Conspiracy.
b) A way for The Rich to keep The Poor down, and
c) A Satanic Conspiracy.

We’re not allowed to express any kind of opinion on Legal Monkey matters, but can you imagine just how much I was dying to ask about this last one?  Especially as Public Monkey was telling me all this very calmly and rationally, as I’d gained his trust and was now his friend.  And he stated these three facts about legal aid THREE times!

I fully appreciate he’s probably a Nut-Nut, but I would LOVE to have a pint with that man to hear him out!

There is also the occasional crossover with some of my previous work where we’d often have to work in the grey areas of the law.  These are very interesting to hear, as I’m speaking to the people we’d be working against!

I am finding that after constant phonecalls my voice is knackered towards the end of the day.  It’s almost as if my mouth is exhausted, and some words like ‘statistics’ seem almost impossible to say!  Weird stuff, but I guess I’ll get used to it.  This isn’t being helped by some weird Lurgy that’s affecting my throat and sinuses much like you get at the start of a cold.

Friday is supposed to be the main day for weird calls, so hopefully I’ll get some that I can safely mention on here!

The job looks good!  Helping Monkeys can be very fulfilling – plus there are prospects for climbing further up the tree…

For now just hope they go gentle on me, and my voice holds up.

No Longer A Jobless Bum!

No Longer A Jobless Bum!

Since being made redundant, I haven’t really done much.  That’s the main problem with being unemployed – you sit at home all day doing bugger-all apart from watching Jeremy Kyle and Judge Judy.  In tracksuit trousers.  So there isn’t a Hell of a lot to talk to your friends and family about!

Well the other day I had my first job interview in about 5 years.  I’ve done a couple of days temp work recently as well, which was partly soul destroying but also helped kick me back into the working day.  So this interview…

It was for a company I thought I’d heard had a high staff turnover, was for legal people so I assumed it would be strict and boring, is for a temporary 5 month contract, and I’m taking about a £7000 per year pay cut over my last job as it’s through an employment agency.  On top of this the interview was attended by a group of us, and would be up to half a day long, with people being cut as the day went on depending on how we performed through each stage.

As you may expect, I was not very excited by this, but decided to go and just use this first interview for some experience for future jobs.  I can safely say I didn’t even want this job when I got up that day.  Added to this, the night before when I looked at the email I’d received of the job details etc, I noticed they wanted me to look carefully at an attachment which would outline what kind of answers they’d be expecting to hear from me during the interview part.  This attachment was missing, so I’d just have to wing it and hope for the best…

Then I buggered up with my shirts and the only one available was one that I wouldn’t be able to wear a tie with!  Argh!  It was quite lucky I didn’t care!

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I drove there nice and early as I’d been told parking could be awkward, and sat in the car looking over my CV so I could answer anything about myself they questioned me on.  People often forget this, and end up looking a bit stupid.

Signing in at the reception, I met the other candidates, who were all in smart dress and ranged from the young sales type to middle-aged women who’d probably been doing this same stuff forever.  We didn’t talk to each other.

The first task was proof-reading a letter.  There were 15 errors, and we had 15 minutes to go over it and find and correct them.  Afterwards as the interviewer left the room we chatted and found none of us had found all 15 – most had between 11 and 13.  I found about 3 in the last minute as I looked over it for a final time and found 14, but decided not to tell them that!  It may even have been the full 15…  Hey, I’m a published Poet, Writer and Blogger!  I OWN that shit!

Then we had a Group Exercise where we were given descriptions of 8 people who’d gone pot holing, got trapped, and we had to choose two who would have to be sacrificed as the others got free.  I -ing HATE stuff like this, but got involved early and tried to contribute a lot without being too controversial.  You lot may have noticed that I often look at the world in a far different way from most.  This was a very useful trait back when I was doing the Private Investigator and Surveillance work, and it’s great for blogs, but generally I try not to show this off to people incase they think I’m a Weirdo!

Oh, and all through this exercise we were being observed on a one-to-one basis by scary boss-type people who we were told to ignore.

There was a break after this and we were sent to the on-site cafe whilst they totalled the scores up and decided who to send home early and who went through to the next stage.

All of us but one went through, and to be honest I’d have lost the same one, too.  She was one of those people who just didn’t seem to ‘get’ it.

We started to chat amongst ourselves and they all seemed ok.  Between the next two stages we all came back to the same table, and everyone loosened up a bit so we had a bit of a joke as we discussed the day and life in general.

First of the final stages for me was the face to face interview with two Boss Monkeys.  I absolutely dread interviews and am terrible at them.  I don’t really want to sell myself, and even for my ideal job all I really want to say is “Just give me the -ing job and I’ll turn up and do it, then go home and spend money on stuff I like doing!”.  I don’t want to head the company in 5 years time, I just want a stable source of income and don’t care what it is.  Not having to work with bastards is a great bonus, and I just don’t want to dread going to work every day!

But you can’t say this stuff at interviews!

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Despite not having the info everyone else got from the aforementioned email attachment, I was immensely relieved that the two interviewing me were very laid back and it was all quite informal!  They had their list of set questions (which DIDN’T include the obligatory “Why do you want this job?” and “Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?”), but for the most part we ended up just chatting.

Next was the competency assessment, where we had to take a simulated phone call from an awkward client.  This is surprisingly hard to do when you don’t have product knowledge, or really know what tools and info you have at your disposal.  I did far too many “err…”‘s for my liking, but that seemed to go ok, and then I was done.

Ironically, by this time I’d decided I did quite want this job, as it seemed a pretty good place to work!

I went back to my car to find I was blocked in literally by about 10 cars!  There was no way I could go back and get them to call the employees and move them, so I had a look at the grass bank leading to the road, prayed nobody was watching out of the windows, and did a Colin MacRae over the grass!

Oh, and I’ve only just remembered that just as I walked out of the building I found that when I’d put my coat on a chair for the last stage, I’d accidentally picked up the interviewers cardigan, too!  Argh!!  I took it back in and handed it to reception…

Not expecting to get it, I had a voicemail message from someone at the agency later that day that sounded very negative, so I called back expecting the worst and was shocked to hear I’d got it!

So no more dole dossing journeys, and I can safely say that I NEVER felt the need to wear tracksuit bottoms unless I was heading directly to the gym, and I haven’t started smoking ganja or become an alcoholic or had to do any parental DNA tests!

The prospects for this job look good – with a definite chance to progress through the ranks if the company takes me on.  I just hope I don’t end up facing another redundancy somewhere down the line…

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