Creed of my silent suffocation
Insomnia cured it would seem.
T'was a strange one last night, we came in to work earlier at nine... all kinds of fun and games at the Factory of Fun. On top of our team rehash, they who sit in heaven and hold the strings have decided it's time for a complete rehash of team leaders functionalities, the results appear somewhat bizarre to say the least. Most upsetting is that one of our very senior and experienced blokes is being upended and shoved down into the office purgatory that I've recently escaped myself. The poor sod's not been in the best of health; the little tin gods probably think they're doing him a favour. What they'll likely do is finish him off. It's very IT based down there, he's happier with a spanner and sorting out stroppy people to the point of minimal grief. He's very good at it, been doing it thirty years. It's corporate cruelty; of course I have an interest myself, was supposed to be going onto his team in April and I was looking forward to working with the guy. What will now happen is that I'll get ANOTHER temporary leader who will not be skilled up in developing my career, acting up into their grade, until Captain Chaos comes back from his detached duty, upon which my life of peace is over forever. Deep joy. Thank you, tin gods.
My current boss was not a happy man. Not least the fact that the central work-chucking-at-us machine had once again put out nothing to justify us being there, but the little tin gods had requested that my mob up sticks and go over the water to the port on the other side, about a forty mile drive. Now, we don't much get on with them, it's a local rivalry thing... although we're bigger and have more to do, they're shinier, have sexier things to do and have the little tin gods living with them, so they have all the budgets, toys and facilities. They couldn't be arsed to put on a night watch, and decided to come up with a scheme, and to put no fine a point on it, wanted us to deploy over there three quarters of the way through the shift, after a quiet one, and expect us to be fresh. Unfortunately, our king of kings didn't have the balls to tell them to get knotted.
So, thus I found myself driving two sleeping guys, and my team's Miss Positive, who was no longer at all positive, or even at all alert over the bridge at half three in the morning, predicting with quite a lot of experience of these things... being the only one who's worked in a container port myself... that the very strong winds we were experiencing on the roads would delay the ship, and even stop it unloading completely, thus rendering our deployment an absolute waste of time. Damn, I hate to be right. So just for once, I was the most alert and enthusiastic one on the team; their morale was right down, and somebody had to look positive and interested, if only for reasons of inter-station politics, so that'll be me then. As it turned out, I knew two out of the three local guys that turned out well, even did my basic training with one of them years ago at Wybother Centre, so that helped things. And of course it WAS a complete waste of time; we turned out to the appointed places at the appointed hour, the ship WAS delayed by the wind, it didn't commence working until half an hour before we were scheduled to leave, and our replacements from the local staff were late in turning up as nobody had told them they were going to be needed and they weren't briefed. It's the height of rudeness in our trade to be late relieving the night watch - that was drilled into me when I started shifts, ten years ago - especially considering we'd been on longer than usual, and it wasn't even our station. Complete lash up. Drove back with Miss Positive for once spitting nails.
Me, once back at the FF, picked up an enormous Breaksfast in Bun sandwich and just headed home. Crawled into me pit, the boy Mr G wanted to play "combat" with the mysterious moving objects under the duvet... my feet... so obliged him for a while with a little scrap. Ever so relaxing. Hey, dog people, THIS is why we have cats.
Slept like a log.
Was going to go to Coningsby this afternoon, but was in me pit til late; and frankly the weather's still manky. So, no hairyplane photography for me. Rather, overdue chores, which mean the kitchen's a damned sight nicer that it was. Had a mate come over for coffee, and have been discussing decorating. How OLD am I lol? It used to be panzer battles and booze ups, now it's coving !
T'was a strange one last night, we came in to work earlier at nine... all kinds of fun and games at the Factory of Fun. On top of our team rehash, they who sit in heaven and hold the strings have decided it's time for a complete rehash of team leaders functionalities, the results appear somewhat bizarre to say the least. Most upsetting is that one of our very senior and experienced blokes is being upended and shoved down into the office purgatory that I've recently escaped myself. The poor sod's not been in the best of health; the little tin gods probably think they're doing him a favour. What they'll likely do is finish him off. It's very IT based down there, he's happier with a spanner and sorting out stroppy people to the point of minimal grief. He's very good at it, been doing it thirty years. It's corporate cruelty; of course I have an interest myself, was supposed to be going onto his team in April and I was looking forward to working with the guy. What will now happen is that I'll get ANOTHER temporary leader who will not be skilled up in developing my career, acting up into their grade, until Captain Chaos comes back from his detached duty, upon which my life of peace is over forever. Deep joy. Thank you, tin gods.
My current boss was not a happy man. Not least the fact that the central work-chucking-at-us machine had once again put out nothing to justify us being there, but the little tin gods had requested that my mob up sticks and go over the water to the port on the other side, about a forty mile drive. Now, we don't much get on with them, it's a local rivalry thing... although we're bigger and have more to do, they're shinier, have sexier things to do and have the little tin gods living with them, so they have all the budgets, toys and facilities. They couldn't be arsed to put on a night watch, and decided to come up with a scheme, and to put no fine a point on it, wanted us to deploy over there three quarters of the way through the shift, after a quiet one, and expect us to be fresh. Unfortunately, our king of kings didn't have the balls to tell them to get knotted.
So, thus I found myself driving two sleeping guys, and my team's Miss Positive, who was no longer at all positive, or even at all alert over the bridge at half three in the morning, predicting with quite a lot of experience of these things... being the only one who's worked in a container port myself... that the very strong winds we were experiencing on the roads would delay the ship, and even stop it unloading completely, thus rendering our deployment an absolute waste of time. Damn, I hate to be right. So just for once, I was the most alert and enthusiastic one on the team; their morale was right down, and somebody had to look positive and interested, if only for reasons of inter-station politics, so that'll be me then. As it turned out, I knew two out of the three local guys that turned out well, even did my basic training with one of them years ago at Wybother Centre, so that helped things. And of course it WAS a complete waste of time; we turned out to the appointed places at the appointed hour, the ship WAS delayed by the wind, it didn't commence working until half an hour before we were scheduled to leave, and our replacements from the local staff were late in turning up as nobody had told them they were going to be needed and they weren't briefed. It's the height of rudeness in our trade to be late relieving the night watch - that was drilled into me when I started shifts, ten years ago - especially considering we'd been on longer than usual, and it wasn't even our station. Complete lash up. Drove back with Miss Positive for once spitting nails.
Me, once back at the FF, picked up an enormous Breaksfast in Bun sandwich and just headed home. Crawled into me pit, the boy Mr G wanted to play "combat" with the mysterious moving objects under the duvet... my feet... so obliged him for a while with a little scrap. Ever so relaxing. Hey, dog people, THIS is why we have cats.
Slept like a log.
Was going to go to Coningsby this afternoon, but was in me pit til late; and frankly the weather's still manky. So, no hairyplane photography for me. Rather, overdue chores, which mean the kitchen's a damned sight nicer that it was. Had a mate come over for coffee, and have been discussing decorating. How OLD am I lol? It used to be panzer battles and booze ups, now it's coving !
posted by Fred the Singing Bandit at 4:42 pm
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