I think I may be a Victim

Alternative Title: ZOMG - Have you seen this?!?!?

Well now... I think, I'm not sure but I think there is a small chance that I might have been in some way, possibly a little bit, maybe, the victim of workplace discrimination...

A couple of weeks ago when we were told we were going to have to drop down to a four day week, I assumed that that meant that I was allowed to work a 4 day week, you know, like they said... not that I would be expected to come in for 5 days and still take the totally bend me over and ruthlessly bugger me in my sore and weeping financial arsehole paycut... apparently I was mistaken...

The first week of this genius plan to stop the hell mouth folding in on itself I took a day off... I felt weird about it because I knew I wasn't getting paid, so I looked for alternative employment so at least I felt like I was doing something productive... well we all know how that turned out... (not well...for all involved)...

That offer of a job interview obviously meant that I needed to take the day off work, so I took it as holiday (perfectly legitimate) and the following day, having exhausted myself by walking about in silly foot wear and breaking my spine / causing internal organ failure, I found myself in far too much pain to move, let alone sit in a Morris Minor with shakey suspension for 45 minutes to get to work, so I call in sick (also perfectly legitimate)...

Although when I go to take my day off last week as part of my 4 day week, 'let's try to soften the blow for our workers by letting them have another day off,' my boss makes some snippy comment as he is walking out of the door that he is 'surprised' that I'm taking this day off as I had so much time off the week before.... to which, slightly stunned, I replied 'yeah, one of those days was holiday and the other was sick...' he just said, 'I'm just surprised that's all' and buggers off....

Then it starts to sink in... apparently not only am I supposed to suck up a crippling pay cut, I'm also not allowed to take sick leave or holiday... brilliant... this makes me angry for the rest of the day but I let it go...

On Friday, Cathryn reveals to me that said boss has continued to slate my behaviour and the behaviour and reactions of other people in the company who have actually had the audacity to take that extra day off that we were offered and have not been coming to work for free... this angers me so much that I go in to my bosses' office, kick out the other manager and ask to have 'a word' with the offending boss....

What transpires is a calm and rational conversation where he states that he had expected more loyalty from the staff ... when I point out that it has nothing to do with loyalty, simply that my work load is significantly lower than it has been in the past due to total lack of work coming in and that I cannot take work from other members of staff as I do not know how to do their work and they do not have time to teach me... he suggests that I should spend my time away from my desk (an offense which usually leads to a berrating for not being on hand to answer the phone) doing pointless and meaningless tasks like 'sorting out the files' in the over stuffed filing room... when I point out that he cannot tell us we can have a 4 day week and then get shitty when we take it, the argument becomes entirely circular...

I could cope with this, just about... however here comes the good bit... he was so slippery about it that I didn't even realise it had happened until after I had left the meeting... in fact I'm still not entirely sure about it... he referred to 'my problem' (his words, not mine... he means the fact that I am a brain cripple) and that the company as a whole had been very supportive of 'my problem' and the fact that I took a day off sick here and there... he even conceded that other people have had more time off than I have through sickness ... but then he said I had to look at the morality of the situation... I left feeling that it had been implied that because I have epilepsy I should be 'morally obligated' to work the 5th day for free... I'm not sure whether I have been bullied and discriminated against or whether I'm just pissed off... I am pissed off, I'm just not sure about the rest of it... nevertheless, I am working 5 days this week...

On a brighter note though, this...


My life would be so very much better if I worked as the Gruffalo's personal secretary...

Sorry

Alternative Title: Hindsight is 20:20

This is a public service announcement:

I would like to publicly apologise to my husband for discussing my feelings in a public forum rather than with him.

The offending post has now been edited accordingly.

Sorry baby

End announcement.

Sigh

Alternative Title: Meh

Yesterday was a rubbish day... and now in my new found self indulgent emo fashion, I'm going to write about it here and you are going to read it... because that is what the blogging forum is for...so there.

10.10 am - Smear test - undignified and uncomfortable - I know most of the people who read this are men and will therefore never be subjected to the indignity that is the internal examination - at least until the time comes for the prostate exam (which is probably worse than a smear - but largely reserved for the elderly gentleman so none of my readers are likely to have experienced it) but being told to 'just relax' whilst lying semi naked on a couch with your legs splayed while someone shoves a large, cold, unlubricated, metal phallus up your most delicate of delicates, widens it and then scrapes your internal walls with bits of plastic is not the most enjoyable of experiences - This is a speculum by the way - lovely looking little bit of torture equipment don't you think?!?!

10.30 am - Waiting in doctor's waiting room for epilepsy check up - I hate doctor's surgeries, even more so since I worked in one and know what goes on in these terrible hives of disease and time wastery - I had to wait for ages because the person before me was an elderly chap who had trouble walking and was in there for at least half an hour more than his appointment time permitted, probably boring the doctor with utter hyperchondria and stories of his old war injury - I remember those people - they like to bore receptionists as well - and complain bitterly when they are the ones kept waiting - oh the injustice

12.00 pm - Phone call offering me that job as predicted - I turn it down - (not so) curly one feels guilty about it - I feel bad that he feels bad - ain't love grand?!?!

Demurely Covered and the Very Essence of Underexposure

Alternative Title: Well Shit, Cock and Piss Flaps

So the interview went really really well.

I managed to find an alternative white shirt, black trouser, severe shoe combo that had me looking professional not porn starry...yey me!

However the shoes have caused my feet to mutate into some kind of blistered bloody stumps and have possibly also damaged my spine beyond repair - either that or my rampant cystitis has moved to my kidneys and my internal organs are currently undergoing massive shut down and I'll be dead by the end of the weekend... woo fucking hoo - either way I'm in some serious fucking pain here people!

My foolish foot attire choices aside, the interview was really good. The people were lovely, the environment was light and airy - at no point did I experience the air of impending death and decay as is present at so many of these nursing homes, the job itself seemed really interesting and I interviewed really well. They seemed to like me, I even had them laughing, which is always a good sign.

Unfortunately, even if they offer me the job, I am going to have to turn it down - but why Bex, I hear you cry, it sounds amazing and will get you out of the fly infested hell hole which currently holds sway over your bank account - well my lovelies...it comes down to one simple but increasingly buggering problem - the money.

They can't offer me enough to be able to meet my rent and bills, never mind any frivolities like food!.... I'm not even in a position to negotiate for more moolah... the caring professions have a notoriously low budget to play with and I would have to ask for a further 6k a year.... which is an astronomical amount for those poor bastards...so once again I am forced back to the seventh level of hell ....

Of course this has lead to another fight with the (not so) curly one about the state of our marriage and the monetary problems that we face as a couple....

Fuck the Pope

Sometimes I hate my life.

(and apparently I'm becoming more emo by the second - sorry about that)

Tits Bursting Out All Over the Place!!!

Alternative Title: Not Really... but now I have your attention...

I have a job interview tomorrow... yey me!

It's still admin work (boo) but it is in a nursing home specialising in palliative care - my field of interest (so yey)...

I am apprehensive about this interview... although perhaps not for the usual reasons...

I only sent my CV off yesterday and they called me today to ask me for an interview tomorrow.... now this either means that they are really on the ball, in which case I will probably be a terrible disappointment to them after years of working in a mind numbingly and brain cell destroyingly easy job, once they realise that I am not as nearly on the ball as their head office people seem to be...

Or

They are so desperate for staff that they jumped on the first sad sack who sent in a CV with their name spelled correctly... again not a good sign...

It's a bit like going out on a date and it going fairly well but then they call you 3 times within an hour of parting company just to 'say hi' ... it's a little bit concerningly keen... (unless of course it went 'really' well... then obsessive calling is just fine)

Of course it could just be that they were blown away by the sheer awesomeness and stealth ninja baddassery (thank you Mr Smith - consider yourself acknowledged) of my CV and have turned away every other candidate just for a chance to gaze upon the wonder that is yours truly... but it seems unlikely...

I am also mildly concerned about what to wear... terribly girly of me I know... but it seems that having lost a few pounds over the last few months pretty much everywhere but from my chest (hear the venemous cries of the ladies) has furnished me with a bit more of a porn star figure than is perhaps appropriate for a home for the dying and my white shirt, black trouser, severe heeled shoe usual interview garb may have me looking more like the 'special' entertainment for Mr Jone's one last kick of excitement before he shuffles off than a serious candidate for a front of house post... what do you think...too much boob?

I'll let you know how it goes... I predict... badly....

NB: Please be aware that these are not in fact my breasts... though sweet baby Jesus, I wish they were...so perky and tanned... although I think she made need to get some Vanish on her shirt... looks like she washed it with a red sock!