digging my grave with a spoon

“something tells me i can’t read this…”

My six-month review was yesterday, and for some reason, my team leader was eager to get it over and done with like she had a guilty conscience. After reviewing my performance in the previous department alongside the current, she had decided to give me 3 out of 5 (3 being “average” and 5 being “stupendous”), a mark which bothered me to the point of asking why there was not a single 4 involved and how on earth you were meant to bloody get one?

Now this isn’t down to a strong academic not being able to stand not getting an A or feeling like my youth had qualified me for greatness; it was a matter of acknowledging that someone had helped to produce a pretty functional PowerPoint, which the computer-illiterate dinos had then used to present the whole point of their existence in front of a sceptical management. And let’s not forget what I brought from my transfer here two months ago: a mother-load of emails the department has wanted for absolute eons, emails so intrinsic to their role as performance assessors which I now understand I should never have done in the first place had I known the bastards would turn around and screw me.

do you like your fucking eye?

“Well,” my team leader says in an extremely pleasant voice, “once we get to know you much better, we might actually give you a 4.” And that’s a fair assessment how? You’re on a job-share, a job-share, so how the hell are you meant to fucking know me better?! Then you say I’m eligible for a permanent job but I’ll have to apply for one, despite proving my assessments are more or less bang on?

I don’t fucking get it…


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