There are days when early retirement not only seems like the best option, but the only psychologically sustainable option, and today is, assuredly, one of those days. I found myself in my manager's office this morning, being patronisingly lectured, as though I was a fractious infant school child, over something that happened at the end of last week. And no, it wasn't the spat with the shift manager on Saturday, either. This was over something that happened just over 24 hours earlier. The sector of the company I work for has recently entered a 'strategic alliance' with what, in business parlance, would be considered our 'principal customer'. What it has meant in practice is that the 'customer' now seems to think that they're in total charge of everything, and my colleagues and I are just there to accommodate their every whim, no matter how stupid. When things were disrupted on Friday evening, I had a telephone conversation with one of their staff, during which I wasn't rude or offensive, but, as my manager himself conceded this morning, simply assertive, making it clear that I would be undertaking my part of the overall job in as close to a normal way as circumstances allowed, rather than in what I saw as the random fashion he thought it ought to be done, which led to him putting in an official complaint about my 'attitude'. The irony of it all was that the disruption had been caused by one of our 'customer's' customers getting into an altercation with one of their staff, doing something idiotically dangerous and getting themselves seriously injured. If this 'alliance', and its apparent consequences, are the future of our industry, the sooner pre-privatisation 'deadwood' like me can get out, the better. I've already done the sums, and I could, if I'm frugal, eke out my pension for three or four years while still meeting the financial commitment I've made in respect of my daughter as part of the ongoing divorce proceedings. It's an appealing prospect, especially after today - go and rent a bedsit in Cornwall, and give myself three years to write my bestseller. Well, probably abjectly fail to write my bestseller, and die starving in my garret, but I can daydream.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
I know how you feel. I once was within a moment of walking out when the assistant director called me on the carpet for a typo ("DO" rather than "Do") and asking a question to clarify a request my supervisor had made (try researching "web x" which was NOT what she wanted). I was talked to like I was a sixth grader (she is now a principal in a middle school, 6th to 8th graders), with no chance to let me try to explain. I steered as far as away as possible from that point on, until she left. Thank goodness. As for retiring, if not for the recession, I could probably go in 2 to 3 years, but unless there is a huge upswing, I'm stuck for at least 13 more years :-(
ReplyDeletePeace <3
Jay
Hello Jay
ReplyDeleteThe joys of working in a fragmented industry, courtesy of Thatcher and her crew of vile asset-strippers. The 'naughty corner' treatment continues, too - I've got to go to the office of the complainant next Tuesday, to see 'their side of the story'. I can feel a sick day coming on!
Love & best wishes
Sammy B