Tuesday, February 14, 2012

And the little one said...

Our work has hilariously named its conference rooms in my building after local geographic features. I was in one of these rooms today; myself, theBoss, Robot and my in-house case manager (there were four in the room and the little one said "I'm broken...'). It wasn't so much a 'so ... how you'doin?' meeting. More here's some paperwork and also you owe the org 40 hours rec leave for the partial return to work. Apparently that was not provided gratis by my work. All these reduced hours I've legally mandated to work at ... well that's on me to suffer as loss to my store of leave. That was a rude shock to the system. But then I wasn't expecting to have any annual leave at all as I thought it was all lost, along with remaining sick leave, as part of this additional authorised extra time I got for having metal bonded to my living bones.

I know it's all very Uncle Ted at the the side of the house (1) to read about so I will stop now. Soon this will all be another bad memory. At least I have this process. Poor fucks in Apple factories don't. And in Syria the monsters are loose, set free by their masters to grind their own people to mince. So who the fuck am I to complain about such trivialities?

Oh, that reminds me. When I got to work I found someone was in MY disabled park. I checked; they had a legit permit and thus a perfect right to that park. Early bird worm getting disabled c___.

UPDATE: The disabled person was there again today. How I wish that disabled person would go away...

(1) From the intro to one of the Spanish Inquisition sketches. It's couplespeak for boring.


  1. So, uh, what was the room named after?

    Owing 40 hours rec leave is balls.

  2. I dunno, I will have to check! It is indeed how you say, the balls...


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