We're taking a bit of a breather while the world rearranges its underpants. Meanwhile, the other blog is here.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

In the House of Lies there are vacancies

Once upon a time, in an earlier life outside the Library Service, I was up on a disciplinary on the heinous charge of Not Trusting My Line Manager. As the manager involved was a gay activist who outed three of his staff who had confided in him while they tried to resolve issues with families and children; and who was later asked to consider his position in the organisation after being found to be fiddling his expenses, I'm pretty cool about this transgression.

I had entirely forgotten this episode, which is odd as I really am one to bear a grudge, until reminded by an old friend. Whose partner is currently working under a regime where one of his colleagues has been given a warning for having an aggressive Scots accent.

The older I get the more I yearn for the old days of managers who were focussed on getting things done and didn't much give a shit whether or not you loved them. This new generation of touchy-feely we-love-our-workers managers generate so much childishly vindictive nonsense it makes me want to heave.


Gadjo Dilo said...

Heave away, Kev, perhaps into the line manager's handbag or onto Scotophobe's trousers. Then pretend to pass out so they'll have to give to give you mouth-to-mouth. Just an idea.

Lavinia said...

Steady there Kevin. Lest a mention of nostalgia get you labeled as a fusty old ancient. Sometimes the fate of those who look back in fondness.