Who Needs Enemies (With Managers Like Them)?

A good friend was sacked recently from his job. Allow me tell you what happened:

One morning, when he was lying in bed and thinking about getting up for work, he partly remembered something some friends were talking about, the evening before, in the pub.

One was describing the difficulties a friend was going through, how the Commercial Department that sent several parts for a contract, costing between £12k and £20k each, had got the order wrong and were expecting him to stump up for their error, despite him returning the items; not an uncommon experience, I suppose. He typed out a critique, to the best of his memory, on his facebook page, extolling them to put their crayons back in the tin and do one.

Somebody at work saw the comments and, jumping to the conclusion that it was about his/her Commercial Department, had a hissy fit and reported it to his bosses.

My friend was suspended by one manager; then he was sacked by another.
The manager who dismissed him was the same one who cocked-up his transfer to another depot, who tried to bully him into driving a vehicle without a working speedometer, and who caused him getting a final warning because he wouldn't listen to his reasoning.

They would not allow him to explain who and what it was about, or write a report (as they normally would for just about everything) never mind there being no proof that it was about the company. So, this was going to be a fair hearing wasn't it . . ?

Under pressure from the P45 being sent by them FOUR days before his appeal, another manager upheld the decision to dismiss and he awaits his final appeal in a few days time.

He now has to try to get re-instated in his job and get paid his lost earnings but, really, who would want to work for such a bunch of arseholes like those?

British Public Transport Management (Pt1)

1. A Good Driver Always Knows His Speed

On his first trip of four in the first half of a shift, a Bus Driver notices that his speedometer has stopped working. So, following Company procedure, he phones Control and informs them of this and that he is only a mile away from town, to where he was heading.

The (then) Controller orders the Driver to continue in service and finish his stint behind the wheel, even though there are eight speed cameras along the whole route; twenty-four in total for the rest of his shift.

"How can I continue when I don't know what speed I'm doing?" asked the Driver.
"A good Driver always knows his speed," the Controller replied.
"How will I know what speed I'd be doing?" the Driver asked.
"A good Driver always knows his speed," the Controller replied again.
I can only guess what speed I'd be doing. Guessing is not the same as knowing," the Driver pointed out.
"You will continue in service, the Controller insisted.
"What if I go past a speed camera and it goes off? It's me who gets the fine and points on my licence," the Driver countered. If I have an accident, in full knowledge that the speedo isn't working, maybe killing somebody because I guessed the wrong speed, I could be sent to prison."
"A good Driver always knows his speed," the Controller repeated, like a scratched record.

After hearing all of this, the shocked and appalled passengers got off the bus in town, commending the Driver for standing up to his bullying supervisor.

The Driver phoned Control again, was ordered to continue in service, refused and awaited repair or replacement of his bus.

For this, the Driver was "disciplined".
The Controller is now a manager at the depot...

A Whine About How This Year Sucks (But Is Gradually Getting Better)!!

Well, for me it sucked, for a time, any way.

In January I caught tonsillitis and had a bad back; that was bad enough but the company I work for, Curst Heaven-Help-Us-All, cocked-up my Sick Pay and Holiday Pay, resulting in my borrowing takings, about £150, to ensure my overheads were paid. I struggled financially throughout January and February.

In February I had two weeks unscheduled holiday without notice from Curst; there was no holiday rota posted. The first I knew about it was when I checked my detail for the next weeks to see HOLS next to my name. Great, I'm on holiday for two weeks but I don't have any cash, because I'm still paying for the errant Sick Pay, and it's too late to plan anything anyway.

So, two weeks of sitting at home it is; I couldn't even take Titchika, the German Shepherd, for long walks because she was in season. Nnnnngh!!

A week after my non-holiday, I was then suspended from work for ten days for borrowing money from takings to replace the Sick Pay and Holiday Pay that wasn't paid to me. Curst tried to get me to come to a hearing without twenty-four hours notice and on a day that they knew the Union Reps would be unavailable or absent; when I informed them that it seemed a bit underhand, they didn't take it too well.

At the hearing they tried to make out that the unpaid Sick Pay unpaid Holiday Pay had no bearing; obviously it had a bearing, as I wouldn't have needed to borrow the takings in the first place. You try living without the equivalent of two and a half weeks wages, on your own, pal. Durrr!!

Now, for the last seven weeks I have had a bad back, started by four weeks of sciatica, and then three weeks of a heavy cold (but not Man-Flu; no achy joints).

During this time, I could not visit my Mum on Mother's Day, so omitted taking a card and present for the first time in living memory, and missed buying Gyorgy an 80th birthday card. My sister has, for two days, been giving me grief-by-email about missing Mother's Day, my other sister and brother are the ones she should have been having a go at, not me.

Due to all of the above, I have not been very focused in my duties as Union Learning Rep and have done absolutely SOD ALL this year, so far.

However, I went for a day trip to London, as the train to Penzance had broken down, and thoroughly enjoyed it! It's the first time in twenty-six years I've been to Buck House and Houses of Parliament, Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar and Leicester Square etc. Soho is a fantastic place, with the theatres, restaurants, people and bars (straight or gay).

I missed the last train to Plymouth, kind-of deliberately, and sat for a couple of hours in Paddington station concourse, until McDonald's opened at five.

A train to Bristol left at six-thirty; I got on it, got the next train to Plymouth, got the bus home and got into bed.

My sister brought-up this rare away day in her criticisms about missing Mother's Day...

City beat United in the FA Cup semi-final at Wembley; I've been trying to get a ticket for the Final v Stoke on May 14th...I will probably get one and go...

I'm a Scorpio and a Manchester City supporter for thirty-six years and, therefore, an eternal optimist.

See? I told you this year was getting better...didn't I.

Can't Sleep; Won't Sleep

Sleep is a precious commodity, especially when it is unobtainable, as it is now, for me. It is nearly four a.m.; I have an appointment at the doctor's at ten to ten.

Because I can't get any shut-eye I am writing this, and we all know how detrimental to health and stimulating looking at bright screen can be, don't we...?

Oh, I tried to sleep, and tried, and tried. That is probably the problem: making an effort. Making any effort awakens the mind, causing a vicious circle. Effort is then made to break the vicious circle, causing further awakening.

This goes on until you are exhausted and do, indeed, fall asleep. The morning alarm goes off; you wake up feeling as though you have only just fallen asleep; fatigue sets in at work earlier than usual; you start losing concentration and get things wrong.

In some jobs fatigue is lethal! Even if it isn't lethal, it could get you the sack. You realise this; this realisation causes stress; this stress causes you to lose sleep; lack of sleep causes you to cock things up at work; your boss notices; you are put on notice; this notice causes more stress; aaargh! The circle must be broken!

Luckily, at the moment, I am off work due to Tonsillitis and a bad back.

Sleep? Pah! Who needs it?

Getting Back On Track (Despite Banklay's)

After following Money Saving Expert for several years, I had decided to take their advice regarding bank charges and sent letters to Banklay's Barc (yes, you know to whom I'm refering) and the Financial Ombudsman outlining that over six years, Bankley's have taken aproximately £1400 from my account and reckon that I am £680 over-drawn. I offered Banklay's to put my balance to zero and close the account; they would still be over £700 up and, better still, we would be free of each other, happy days!

Just before Christmas, I received a letter from the toothless Financial Ombudsman stating that they would not uphold my complaint about Banklay's Illegal/Unlawful/Unfair/DaylightPenalty Charges.

A day later I received a letter from Bankley's, demanding that I pay back the money they insist I owe them, and to not ignore their demands (I mean, letters). I'm not ignoring them, I just don't have any money to pay them right now.

On my meagre wages, even with over-time, I am struggling to keep my head above water.

Wish me luck; I'll need it! Oh, and Happy New Year (especially if you work for Banklay's Barc)!

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Getting There Was The Problem

As I am a new Union Learning Rep, it was thought to be generally benificial for me to attend the RMT ULR Seminars at Euston, London. Even with a change to an earlier shift, things were going to be tight. There was a slim chance of catching the 1800 train from Plymouth to Paddington, rather than the 1844 train, with a change at Exeter. But, first, I had to get back to the depot to change clothes.

I legged it from Royal Parade to The Viaduct and hopped onto the 2 bus, that was luckily about to leave, for the Depot. However, upon hearing that I was in a hurry, the driver decided to be a twat and a show-off to a couple of colleagues and go-slow, with a merry chortle and cheeky smile. The right-hand lane was open, free and clear to Charles Church but he deliberately put the bus up the arse of the traffic in the first lane; hahaha heeheehee.The slim chance I had of making the 1800 was slipping away as we waited, and waited, and waited in that queue as traffic in the right-hand lane flew by.

All the while, I was texting Vikki what was going on and we decided to catch the 1844 instead; I didn't bother telling the driver, who kept making snide witicisms all the way to Sugar Mills. He looked a twat when I told him as I got off; all his shit was in-vain. What a dick!

I got changed in the depot, behind the car, in the freezing cold, taking my time, and legged it to catch a bus to get me back into town; there was a bus, at the Morley Arms, across the road; it left before I got to the central reservation. Luckily, there was another bus coming, so I got on that, got a coffee at McDonald's in town and walked to the railway station.

As I arrived at the station, a 1A bus arrived at the stop and Vikki got off it. We still had about eight minutes to kill before the train left, so we double-checked the timetable and couldn't see Paddington on the board until about half-seven. Eh? Then we realised the 1844 train actually terminates at Exeter! O.K!

The train left on-time-ish and we changed trains at Exeter, onto the HST on the adjacent platform (usually you have to cross onto a totally different platform, in my experience).

We were yakking away all the way to Paddington. I checked for directions to the Travelodge, and the phone number, on my Blackberry and, finding reviews, learnt that it was a cold, grubby, noisy, expensive place to stay. I phoned them to confirm that we were on our way and not to let our rooms; they couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't be let out by the time we arrived, which was just what we bloody need to hear!

We got to Paddington at about half-ten. The Underground was closed due to the tube strike; bloody RMT! Tiredness was beginning to kick in...

Bus it is, then. This isn't as easy as it sounds! We didn't know which bus to get, which was the correct stop, or if they ran direct to Euston at this time of day/night. Also, London bus drivers do not take cash anymore, you have to pay at a machine, which is situated by the shelter/stop. That's ok if you have change. We found that we needed the 205 bus, running every 10 - 12mins, but we were at the wrong stop for Euston; the stop we wanted was on Eastbourne Terrace, around the corner. As we approached the stop, a 205 was approaching; we flagged him down but he just ignored us. We got to the shelter but it was not in use, due to the roadworks, doh!

We legged-it back onto the main drag outside the station and saw the 205 loading-up at the stop ahead but, as we approached, it buggered-off. Not to worry; they're every 10-12mins!

Oh, no they're not. We waited half an hour in the freezing open air, shivering and chattering...

Finally, FINALLY, the 205 turned up, after loads of buses for everywhere else twice passed by.

We got off at Euston Square, instead of Euston Station, by mistake and had to walk a few hundred yards to the Travelodge on Eversholt Street and checked-in at eleven-thirty P-bloody-M!

Yip-bloody-pee! Night, night...