Woe

By bitingmylip

Woe is me, woe is me,
I was late for work cos I banged my knee
On the oven door as I rushed around
Eating Special K and trying not to make a sound
In case I disturbed
The rather peturbed-
Looking lady asleep on our sofa...

I will not ask who the stranger in our midst is
Likely as not it's none of my business
And anyway, woe is me, I was late for work cos the bus drove right past me
And I had to wait for another
Listening to some kid shout at his mother
While the rest of us stared at our feet
And tried to block out the noise coming from another kid's phone
As she defiantly stared at us so we'd leave her alone

Then the bus arrived,
And drove at snails' pace
Even the traffic lights were against me
Not that it's a race
But now I was definitely late for work
Woe is me
Late for work with a big bruised knee

I think I'm paranoid

by itchingmyknee

I seem to be consistently privy to the gross misconduct of senior directors. While waiting for a lift in a department store, I overheard a middle-aged gentleman talking loudly about a young girl who had become pregnant during her probation period at his office, “We can’t tell her that’s why we’re sacking her,” he hooray-henried down the phone, picking his expensive white teeth with immaculate nails, “We’ll have to say she’s bad at her job. Make something up.”

Worse is true closer to home. A sales person got too close to a top level director a while ago. Rumours of an affair are unsubstantiated, but certainly she partook in drug-taking and witnessed various nefarious goings-on within the upper echelons. The relationship has soured, and this sales person wishes to leave the company. Of course, the senior director is terrified of company secrets leaving with her. So, he has promised her the earth to keep her on while embarking on a strategic mission to convince her that she is going mad. This began with a series of personality tests to determine whether she had a “personality problem”, followed by a number of closed meetings to discuss her psychological health. The senior director and FD lean over the hapless girl, playing good cop, bad cop:
“You need serious help.”
“We’re the only ones who can help”
“No one here likes you. If we took a straw poll, you’d be the most unpopular member of staff.”
“But we care about you.”

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, as the saying goes. There is no room for naïveté in the workplace. Luckily, our sales person is leaving next week, and taking her sanity with her. The poor knocked-up newbie at the FTSE 100 company will doubtless fare less well. Fellow office junkies, watch out for the oft-said catchphrase of the HR executive, “I work for you, not the company.” They really are all out to get you.

Librarian's Corner VII

by wrackingmybrains

As anyone who has ever visited a public library will know, one of the most ubiquitous and faithful demographics among library-users is the homeless. In fact, it is a sad irony that they are also the only group automatically excluded from membership, as to join one must provide proof of permanent address.
The more cynical among you may assume that homeless people come to libraries only to use the washrooms and sleep behind newspapers in a warm and peaceful atmosphere.* I will admit that a certain amount of this does go on and I don’t object at all: I am pleased if the tramps want to reduce their smelliness and I find the ‘no sleeping’ notices in some libraries cruel and unusual – I would much rather visitors slept quietly than, say, talked loudly on mobile phones.
Actually, though, many homeless people make better use of the wide range of services and facilities we offer than most other Readers. Here are a few examples of our homeless patrons and their activities:

Mr White
An elderly-ish, well-spoken South African. He knows all the staff’s names and always enquires politely about our lives and families. He spends as much time as he can on the Internet, usually researching obscure diseases on NHS Direct.

Tom
Young and Scottish. Also very polite in a shy, hesitant way. Watches a lot of rugby online and reads the newspapers from cover to cover.

Mr Jones
Middle-aged and scruffy with a rather aggressive manner and a tendency to mutter to himself. Obsessed with King George I, about whom he has compiled a large folder of information, composed of print-outs from the Internet and pages photocopied from history books. Sometimes he is content simply to regale staff with trivia about the aforementioned monarch’s life or show us his photocopied pictures (“Just look at that ‘at ‘e’s wearing there; isn’t that the coolest ‘at you’ve ever seen? ‘E was the coolest king ever!”); sometimes he enlists our help in unearthing ever-more detailed information.

Mrs McCrae
Not actually homeless but strange, unwashed and with much-lamented housing problems. Recently came in brandishing a leaflet about a hostel for single, elderly women which she had found amongst the wealth of such literature in our foyer. She was deeply aggrieved that the organisation supplied no telephone number, so I foolishly offered to email them for her. She now plagues my colleagues and me on an almost daily basis with demands for further information about the hostel (which, I might add, is absolutely nothing to do with the Library Service or Council) and accusations that we are deliberately withholding it from her.

*That all libraries fit this description is itself a myth: mine, situated in a draughty Victorian building, is usually freezing and often full of screaming children from the primary school round the corner.