29 June 2006

Thursday - Whipping Boy

Anne was in her angry spot this morning, berating Gary, but loudly so that everyone knew she was doing it.

"Several end of month reports are conspicuous by their absence," She said.

Gary - who seems to be getting smaller and smaller and quieter and quieter by the day - answered: "Whose reports? They were all supposed to be in on the second day of the month,"

"Luke and Tracey," Anne replied. Now I knew this was wrong. I'd completed mine within the deadline. It had been sitting in the reports folder - waiting to be signed off by Anne, which by rights she had to do by the third day of the month - and obviously hadn't. I couldn't speak for Tracey.

Luckily Gary was on the ball. He told Anne that they'd both been completed and were waiting for Anne's sign-off. Anne deflated like a beach ball but it was only momentarily. She pumped herself up again even bigger than before as her fight reflex kicked in. "Well they're not where they should be. I'm fed up with people moving folders around on the network. I seriously think that we should start to restrict peoples access rights on some areas. Don't worry. I'll track the reports down. I'll find them," She said to Gary as she boldly marched back to her cave, huffing and puffing.

Jez wandered over. "Did Anne say something about the monthly reports?" He whispered to me casually.

I nodded.

"Ah. I better do mine then," he said and returned to his desk.

28 June 2006

Wednesday - Think of the money

Sometimes I just feel like I'm griping all the time. I don't mean to be so negative, its just that - well - it's a pretty crap deal isn't it, spending most of your life in an office while people that you don't particularly like and don't even rate, order you about.

But on the bright side at least I'm not one of the staff!

The gf thinks that I'm just exagerating and than it isn't really that bad. I suppose in the scheme of things it isn't. But selfishly I just know things could be so much better.

I wandered through town at lunch, taking a rare break away from the desk and considered how much worse things could be. There were the usual chuggers*, smiling brightly at people, despite the half-mile exclusion zone around them that developed the instant lunchtime workers and shoppers see the coloured bib and clipboard heading in their direction.

And then the man holding the 'Umbrella Sale' sign - I mean how crap can that job be? A sign holder. Is that something that you choose to do. Did some careers advisor suggest this as a worthwhile occupation? What would the qualifications be? Can you stand still for seven hours - tick. Hold a sign with your left hand - tick. Both hands - overqualified!

I wanted to talk to the sign-man and tell him that things would be all right. I wanted to tell him that I respected his rights as a person and not another piece of human street furniture. But I didn't. I walked on by and didn't even take a detour through his recommended umbrella sale.


*charity mugger

23 June 2006

Thursday - I Know Best

Our backlogs are getting larger by the day. This isn't help by Anne's genius strategy of focusing on the time-consuming older complaints. After all if you've got a 2000 item backlog and want to get rid of it, why clear 200 items a day when you can clear 20 difficult items even though we are receiving 50 new ones daily? You do the maths.

Of course Anne and Gary do not see this and if I try to explain this to them, they just exclaim "that we have to do it," and then threaten "the severest of implications" if we don't. Anne then started bemoaning the low volume of calls processed by the team.

"They're averaging 10 calls a day each," Anne said. Although I was in the firing line, her aim was at all of the team leaders. "We take 180 calls a day. The average call length is 8 minutes. They only spend 90 minutes on the phone each shift. What are they doing?"

I didn't think it was a simplistic as that. This was the problem with bean counters taking over a company. Especially when those bean counters didn't really understand the work they were counting. I felt like Einstein would have done if his bosses had told him that the stars are fires burning behind a black curtain.

"The calls don't come in all at once. And although the average call length takes 8 minutes, the true amount of time spent on the call is once its over." I said.

"Like what?" asked Anne.

Dare I say it? "Well they have to complete their timesheet to record what they've done for 8 minutes and then log the call on our system. And that's before they even start to deal with the call. Investigating the background, collating the information. Documentation. Making further calls. Calling the customer back."

"The logs and timesheets have to be completed," said Anne repeating her mantra from the bean counter's bible. It didn't matter if it was right or not. It just had to be done and that was enough. I knew that if I challenged it any more she would suggest that I come up with a better solution. I could. But I don't have time on account of the the bean counting that I have to do.

Gary helpfully tried to help. But didn't really. He had no experience of the work we did or how we did it. He was a boss and could only ever be a boss. Most of the time he kept quiet but sometimes his boss instincts came into play like a teenage hormonal urge forcing him to demonstrate his boss qualities.

"Perhaps if the teams' could log the calls when they take them," He said. "That way they'll be doing twice the work in the same amount of time."

I almost offered to insert broomhandles into their rectums as well but I'd already done too much harm to my career in this meeting.

22 June 2006

Anne's Blog - 2

I've just carried out a few searches on the web. Just in case. I can't find anything that might be Anne's blog!

But it could be out there.

Anne's Blog

After hearing Dan's comment about his own blog I started to wonder who else might have a secret work blog. What if Anne had one? It might go something like this -


Monday - I love running a big department. It's like having a menagerie of pets. Sometimes they're good and I'l give them a little treat if I'm feeling benevolent. Other times they're bad and argue amongst each other over little things like two puppies fighting over a pair of slippers. Luke would probably be the incontinent one. Weeing in the corner when I wasn't looking.

Tuesday - I'm so clever. I just astound myself sometimes. I've had a new idea for procedures. I'm bursting to tell everyone about it but I don't want to come over all 'David Brent'. I accuse Gary of being a David Brent in the team leader meeting when he starts waffling for an answer. Just to show everyone that I'm not at all like him. Everyone laughs at my joke. Even Gary.

Wednesday - I find evidence that supports my brilliant new procedure procedure. I'm so angry. I stand in my angry spot in the middle of the office and let everyone know how angry I am. As usual some staff don't pay to much attention and try to do things on their computers and talk on the phone as if I'm not important. They should know who the manager is around here. They're probably the guilty ones. I tell everyone about the new procedure that I've designed. I just couldn't hold it in any longer.

Thursday - I don't believe in being a cold hearted manager. I like to show my quirky humorous side from time to time. It's part of my charm. Luke's team is having a chat about Jo and Dave before they start work. I make a hilarious joke about Jo being a bit of a slapper. They all laugh. I'm so off the wall. They must love working for me!

20 June 2006

Monday - Stealth Frivolity

I've been a bad blogger - no posts last week mainly due to the anti-bloggin influence of World Cup Football, Sunshine and the Barbeque.

No important games tonight! ;-) - so I'm catching up with this week!

--------------------------------------------------

Jez took his staff out for a team lunch yesterday. Come 2pm and the phones were ringing off the hooks. The reason, they still hadn't returned and my foursome had to cope with the lines on their own. Of course I could have gone running to Anne and squealed like the little rat that Jez is, but I'm sure you'll know - I'm not that sort of person. Just as I'd be responsible enough to make sure that the team is back to cover after lunch. I'd always consider the impact of this sort of action on the department as a whole.

Ted was fuming. He didn't get a chance to clear up any of his post. Even Jo was steaming. Both complained to me between greetings to customers, the mute buttons used with vigour. Of course when Jez returned, seemingly oblivious to the workloads his left us to deal with, he made no effort to get his team back online as quickly as he could. But we were equals in the eyes of HR. I wouldn't go running to Anne but I would confront him directly and reasonably.

"Jez. We've been a bit short here since 2 because your team was late back," I told him.

"Yeah. Sorry about that," He said. "It was unavoidable. The food was served late."

"But we've been under the kosh here," I added. Jez seemed uninterested. His team, including Kate were still buzzing from their pub lunch. Suddenly I felt like the company man Dave claimed me to be.

"If its a problem, just say so," said Jez without any real commitment. "And I'll make sure the team's back on time."

The irony is that Anne was overheard asking Kate if she was being worked harder now that she was in Jez's team. As far as Anne's concerned, Jez can do no wrong and incidents like this don't hit her radar.

Later, Gareth, a true rugby man from the valleys, was telling Dan and Ted how he'd watched the Brazil game at the weekend. When challenged about his motives he admited; "Usually there's always some Brazillian girls in the crowd that lift their tops when the camera's on them,"

"Yeah," added Dan. "I was disappointed this time. The only boobs I saw were Ronaldo's when he exchanged shirts at full time."

06 June 2006

Monday - Vorsprung Durch Technik

Short shouty bloke has an Audi. He will only use the fast lane of the motorway and anyone foolish enough to drive in the same lane ahead of him will be flashed to pull over so that he can pass. Even if they're doing 90.

He's lived in the same house for 20 years. It's in a very dodgy area of town but he's comfortable there because that's where he grew up. He dislikes anyone that he considers 'posh' - which by his definition means someone who doesn't read the Sun - and he spends every single penny of his massive salary - and it is massive - on HD TV's, he now has two for every room in his house, and bingo nights with his family. Anything left over is squandered on lottery tickets.

I know I should give him a name - even a fake one, but to be honest with you, I can't really be bothered and short shouty bloke just feels so appropriate. As you will see.

I needed a file from our ----town office today. It was a case that they had been dealing with but an escalation of a complaint and a general breakdown of relationship with the customer had meant that it had to be transferred to me to independently investigate each point of the complaint. Short, shouty bloke had an interest in it as it was one of his accounts.

I'd phoned the office and asked for copies of the letters to be faxed down so I could see what had been written.

Foolishly, I beleived them when they said they'd do it straight away.

SSB was on my case immediately. "Have you got those letters yet?"

"I've phoned them. They're faxing them through."

An hour later and they still hadn't arrived on the machine. I made another call and was told that 'the temp hadn't got round to doing it yet'. I pressed home the urgency of the matter and was again promised that they would be sent immediately.

A sonic shockwave blasted through the office proceeding SSB's entry.

"I've chased them," I said hoping to head him off at the pass.

"So the top man is on the case," he said sarcastically. "I'll be back in ten,"

When he left I called the other office again. I pleaded. I begged. I threatened. "This is priority. Please send these letters through immediatley."

My victim on the end of the line recovered enough from the battering I'd given him to say "I'll get them and send them myself. I don't know where the temp has gone."

I finished the call with further threats of escalation if he hadn't complied. I namedropped the MD for effect. True to his word SSB was back in the office. He was already tutting before I'd spoke.

"I just chased them again. They're sending them as we speak."

"Not good enough. Get back on to them."

"But I just got off -"

Before I could finish SSB had unholstered his phone - yes, he really had a little pouch for his mobile that hung off his belt - and rang someone of authority. Someone he called Rickus Dickus.

"Rickus Dickus. Yeah. Short Shouty Bloke. This xx complaint. We're still awaiting the fax copies?"

At that point the fax machine started to rumble. It spewed out a white tongue of paper.

SSB killed his phone.

"There. That's how you get things done. " said Short Shouty Bloke.

I didn't tell him that the copy he requested from Rickus Dickus came through two hours later.