Category Archives: nightmares

catching other people’s madness

woe spiral

I’m starting to think that being myself is not worth it; at least, in an office environment where so many people seem to find interacting with others incredibly stressful. I refer to an instance which occurred only this week between myself and another colleague in the same department. As this person is a job-share, they have less time than most to accomplish all tasks within the time-scale provided; should anything put a spanner in the works, they will feel under pressure for the rest of the day because it intrudes on other agenda. Then again, if you are ranked “Assistant Manager”, it’s a given that you’ll be under pressure for most of the day, and as a job-sharing Assistant Manager, the pressure is even worse, right?

Not that I give a shit. It’s not my fault you were promoted 20 years ago and no longer have the balls to act the part. And it’s not like you’re doing the statistics, either. Since I created a spreadsheet to help management assess our department’s performance in a way that is fair, why not leave me to look after the statistics while the team leaders are gone? And this is on top of new targets brought into effect during my annual leave: an increased number of assessments and a quality percentage based on assessments amended. Not very stressful, I suppose, compared to handling office politics from other colleagues in management, but still, it’s something I’ve been left with, rather than you, and I think that’s actually saying something.

So why talk down to me when you have to do your job? Assistant Managers from a different department wish to appeal some assessments I did the previous day and this somehow surprises you? I would love to review such appeals myself, you know I would, but this isn’t really possible when I personally did those assessments. And what’s that? My renewed former nemesis is the one who raised these concerns, and because this intrudes on your day, you want to give out to me over the most trivial things? You know we can’t write any opinions on our assessments and yet you so readily take the side of my renewed former nemesis because you personally don’t like the fact I’m doing my job?


I’m starting to wonder if I’m going mad or just catching other people’s madness. It feels awfully like the latter. Taking into account that this job-sharing bitch has worked for donkeys in the same company, had their pension demolished by the economic downturn, and also taking into account other factors I couldn’t possibly guess at, I can see why they would fix their glare on me and let loose. After all, I have a reputation, it seems, for being “The Harsh One”, which some team members feel is creating more work for our department and even more discord. In my defence, all I can say is that my experience as an agent can make it seem like I’m being very harsh; it’s always the way when you’ve done something yourself and know how it should be done, especially when you’re the only one who has some fucking practical experience. And to top it off, I’m critical by nature. If this trait needs to be tempered by experience in the role, then so be it, but representing my recently appealed assessments as if I’m a green girl is really something else, and I said as much to the job-share when they offered two key remarks: “I cannot change you” and “Does it have to be black and white? Can’t there be some grey in between?”

Hold up, what? Where does changing my personality come into reviewing appealed assessments? You can certainly change my perspective, but saying things like that about me as a person is beside the point. And how can there be grey between the black and white when our procedures are slowly crushing all leniency out of us? Have you forgotten what company you work for and how it came to be in the state it is currently in? No one here is trying to make trouble for somebody else. We’re just trying to do our jobs in a toxic framework and that isn’t our fault any more than it is theirs, so what the fuck? Are you annoyed because you actually have to work? You’re closer to retirement than I am, so be grateful! I still have years and years to put with up bullshit like this. Or is it because you think I have a heart of stone just because I don’t fully sympathise with a customer in the middle of divorce? Talking down to me like I don’t fucking know what a divorce is! You’re still fucking married and didn’t put your own kids through hell and you dare to explain to me, who grew up through such a thing, what a fucking divorce is…

You need to fucking retire.


the anal colleague



Today has just opened my eyes to that one colleague I thought I could stand if only one tried hard enough. In other words, I have given up trying to like the Anal Colleague who works in my department. Now, I’m sure he’s not the only anal colleague around here, and no doubt I’ve been perceived as pretty anal myself when it comes to certain things, but what puts this particular colleague in the limelight is the email exchange we had this morning.

It went something a little like this (revamped for story-telling purposes):

ANAL: Just wondering why you replaced my name with yours for A-Team. I’m assigned to A-Team. Who said you could tamper with A-Team?

ME: Basically ran out of work and used my own initiative. You were in a meeting so I didn’t get to ask you.

ANAL: You should ask me before assessing members of A-Team.

ME: No worries! Thought I was alone in giving a shit about doing nothing all afternoon.

ANAL: Just ask me first or double up your own assessments. Besides, I’ve already done the work but haven’t save them in the folder, so you’re just doubling statistics.

ME: We haven’t duplicated any assessments on A-Team. Chill out!

ANAL: You should still ask me.

* * *

And then you think it’s all over. Well, frankly, it bloody well wasn’t, thanks to Anal informing our manager (via email, sly wanker!) in time for the weekly meeting, where we’re suddenly requested to ask the manager first for any additional work if we’re running low on assessments.

Admittedly, I should have sent a courtesy email stating my intentions to Anal about those assessments for A-Team (I simply forgot after Anal went for a meeting straight after lunch); though in fairness, assessing A-Team more than once does not in any way substantially affect our individual targets as assessors or the statistics of A-Team overall. It just means that A-Team’s manager receives a clearer picture of what their team is up to, while Anal, I suppose, might interpret my sudden interest in their workload as an underhanded effort to make them look like a douche bag.

Le sigh. I can’t be arsed with Anal.

fuck's sake

fuck’s sake

bad hair day


if you don’t mind me saying

Never cheat on your stylist. If you find a stylist you like, who understands your description of any hairstyle required, then embrace that person in a vice-like grip and never be tempted to ever go and find a new stylist to replace them. You have been told this several times, and twice now, you have failed to learn the errors of your ways!

Guilty as charged: for the second time in 6 months, I have cheated on my stylist and have come to regret the whole matter with a guilt so intense not even vodka laced with moonshine could define the strength of my guilt. She cuts my hair how I like it, exactly how I like it, and yet I sometimes feel like I’m no longer special, like my custom is nothing to her if she keeps on cutting my hair.

So I went to other stylists and predictably received the most awful of haircuts. The first instance, I cannot remember; it isn’t really important now the second instance has happened. Imagine, if you will, a haircut so crude that it brings back the 90s and reminds you of that hairstyle worn primarily by the likes of Nick Carter from the Backstreet Boys and all those other boy bands with straight, floppy hair. (Yes, it was that fucking bad!!!)

Telling you now, the moment I pick that phone up at precisely 9am, a head will be rolling in that salon I went to on Saturday. I’ll be looking for a refund, no less than a total refund; such is my derision for that stylist who fatally ruined my barnett – in time for Monday, no less! Of course, should they offer a different stylist to rectify the damage at no extra cost (one who actually knows what the fuck they are doing), then I may be persuaded to let the incident go…

we shall see

we shall see


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…


the ant mill

just doing my job: going insane

Two months later and this job is driving me crazy – or rather, it has driven me crazy and I’ve only got round to admitting it.  (In case the details have somehow slipped your mind, as it has mine very often: it’s the one where I transferred to a different department in pursuit of a peaceful life, etc.)  After spending four months being blamed for the state of the world economy and everything else the Irish public could think of, I had convinced myself by this point that working in performance assessment would be far better than any jobs I have done in the past.  Not only would I escape from the constant accusations (“You made me do everything I hate about my life!!”), but I would also put some distance between myself and that one manager I just cannot stand for various, various reasons.  However, as with every plan well-laid, there has to be some setback you would rather not deal with.

In this instance, I guess you could say it’s my own fault.  After all, it’s not like I took the time to research the role in question or have a chat with the people who are working in that department.  Had I prepared myself from the outset then perhaps I would have discovered the true nature of this job and understood the position for what it truthfully is: a spiral of desistance, a type of stagnant hell where you’re caught up in a mill of other ants milling, forever milling in circles ’til your brain cells fucking collapse.

poor little bastards

Instead of a department respected and relied on, I was joining one which nobody knew or even really thought about.  Of course they were aware that such a department existed, don’t get me wrong, but they didn’t have a clue what that department even meant or what impact it could have on their daily performance.

To claim I wasn’t one of those people would be a lie.  Before I’d joined their sad and dismal ranks, strolling past this department at the start and end of my shift was like walking past a montage for a Tom and Jerry knife chase.  Department who?  Where?  I didn’t know who they were, and basically, I didn’t give a fig, but when you’re standing on the opposite side, scrutinising those people who fail to acknowledge and comprehend your existence, it’s actually the worst kind of feeling you can have – the very worst you can have in an office environment.  With a reception like that, who would want to work when no one gives a shit?  And why even try when your efforts are never recognised?  When I joined the department, I was shocked at how the team really was, considering their role and the industry we work in: on every face was written the feelings of Apathy, Desperation, Boredom, and Bitterness – no different to the faces of the team I’d left behind, though surprising for a role I presumed would have… you know, more of those things that the old team just didn’t.

all i wanted was a comfort break…

I know, I know, what I’m saying is vague and may not make much sense, what with all the censorship, but this department I joined… it’s meant to be important.  It’s meant to safeguard and protect any company in a market with strict regulations, and from the way this department is treated, compared to the UK, where they place the fear of losing your job in everything that you do (using your mobile at work, failing to read the intranet updates, signing in as a friend, etc.), I can see why the people there have gradually lost their spirit and passion, why they do whatever they feel like since no one’s even looking.

Then again, how does that explain a department where half the team job-share, have worked there for donkeys, and don’t know jack about computers?  Well… there is no explanation.  All I know is that it’s not very fun, especially when two leaders rotate on a weekly basis (don’t ask me how that works; I’ve given up on the concept).  And in addition to watching your mouth, because you’re new and learning and don’t yet have a feel for the dagger in their cloaks, there’s the whole grin-and-bear-it in front of your former colleagues, who can’t be blamed for assuming that you’re happier than they are.

one pint or two?

Alas, I shan’t go on about it (it’s not very British), but there you go: that’s my wonderful job!  I’m sure there are some good points and saving graces involved – not to mention the fact I’ll feel completely different later on, like, when the weekend starts.  All the same, what a natty transfer… I need to work on my choices 😦


should i care what people think?

i feel like i'm trapped...

who ARE these people?

(I’m starting to believe that I really just shouldn’t.)


take the red pill

If you came for those super reviews where people love to profess just how happy they were in 2012 compared to previous years (and compared to the rest of the world), then you won’t find that kind of shit stuff around here.

You're no happier than I am... GET OVER IT!!!

You’re no happier than I am… GET OVER IT!!!