I saw a male criminal from Gement once.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 11:14, 2 replies)

Angry lawnmower guy and his shouty tactics
I'd just left schooland had recently attended a work-placement thing and was told i could apply for a number jobs in a few sectors and would gain 'valuable work experience'.

So, from the choices there (building, painting, roofing, admin etc) - the ONLY two that appealed to me was gardening and the vaguely titled 'computers', but i didn't want to be stuck in an office all summer, so i chose gardening, under the illusion that i'd be more or less chilling out in the sun , sipping lemonade, listening to the radio and putting plants in soil. Perfect.

Whereas the reality consisted of being under the dominance of an inexplicably angry man, being crambed in the back of a white van amongst lots of sharp and archaic gardening tools (namely huge and heavy lawn mowers) and his silent apprentice, whilst being driven to extremely rough areas of England and being forced to trundle across miles and miles of grass.

His silent apprentice was a brick shit house of a lad, but had the mental and social attitudes of an oyster. He never uttered two words to me in whole duration of my 'employment' but did seem to enjoy mindlessly walking across fucking miles of grass with his lawnmower.

Anyhoo, getting back to the point - Angry lawnmower man would freak out at the slightest little thing. If somebody driving too close to his van, he'd punch the dashboard and shout the word 'cunt' at them and lean on the drivers window and wave his fists, all the while turning an alarming shade of red! If he cut his finger on a tool, he'd kick the van and dint it. He was a right nutter.

As for the job description - well, as i mentioned we visited the scummiest places on the planet. One memorable place was a patch of wasteland that had previously been occupied by pikey travellers, and for some reason (fuck knows why), we had to mow this patch of grass but avoid any of the discarded crap. Other times it was council estates, mowing courtyards and avoiding the stares of the chav population. Or the half-way house garden, in which i daren't peep at the leering faces pressed against the glass windows of the clinical looking house. The silent mongy apprentice didn't seem phazed at all though...

It was a fucking nightmare.

The first time i realised i despised the job, was when Angry lawn mower man went positively bat shit insane because i'd foolishly trundled my lawnmower over a half buried rock. 'You stupid little bastard, why didn't you move the fucking brick!'

I didn't have the gall to explain that i had absolutely no idea a rock was hidden in the grass, but he made me go and look ahead anyway. There's only one thing worse that walking across shitty fucking grass with a lawnmower and not getting paid. And that is walking across shitty grass looking for bricks and not getting paid.

At the time though, i was young and stupid and just took it on the chin. But he crossed a line.

Two weeks, of impromptu screaming abuse, eventually faded slightly as he would often drop me off somewhere (usually alone may i add) with a lawnmower and he would go and do another job somewhere. The time that really struck me as a shit day was when he dropped me off in nutsford service station and told me to mow three patches of grass and he'd be back 'within the hour'.

The thing was... The second he drove off, a few things happened at once. I realised i had left my coat (and wallet)in the van and it started raining heavily. The second thing that happened was the starter cord on the ancient lawn mower snapped and i had absolutely no way of getting the lawn mower working....

So here i was... At the side of a motorway, with a useless lawn mower, in the pissing down rain with no coat and no money to buy any food. Expecting the wrath of angry lawn mower man within the hour.

He turned up THREE hours later, to find me looking dishevelled and wet and useless on the over grown grass.

Even when i tried to explain that it wasn't my fault, he raged and spat and roared at me. Worst day of my life.

The next morning he picked me up for 'work' but i sternly refused, i couldn't be arsed any more, it was my first manly moment. Telling my boss 'No!' and hearing him shouting and ranting at me as he drove off, never to be seen again - was quite liberating.

-

Morals:

*Despite what you may hear, gardening is shit, dangerous, stressful, tiring and frightening.

* Slave labour is still legal under 'work experience'

* Check your equipment. Nutsford services is not a fun place.

/Length? - fucking miles with vibrating, arthritis causing machines and being shouted at every step of the way :(
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 11:08, 4 replies)

tb2571989 has reminded
We did have a leak which turned into a flood in one of our smaller server rooms.
Very expensive tivoli backup library and a crap-load of network gear and stuff in there.
The reaction of our building manager..."Better get some towels".
(WOGAN'S WIG FIXER, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 10:52, Reply)

My uncle is an eminent doctor, and tells a story of a surgeon, who, during an operation
and the general "Scalpel ... scissors ... " bit, was handed the tool, looked at it, spun 'round and shouted at the nurse

"DAMN IT, WOMAN! DON'T HAND ME WHAT I ASK FOR, HAND ME WHAT I WANT!"
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 10:51, 2 replies)

Psychometric Testing
My company uses psychometric testing to see if employees are capable of moving up into management positions. Indeed, some of the current managers are only in their positions because they scored well on the tests.
Last year, my manager offered me the chance to be assessed. I explained my reservations; ‘they might come back and say that I’m a bit…..weird’, I argued, but was told it was a great opportunity to move up the company, make more money etc.

“Just answer truthfully and don’t say what you think they want to hear”, my manager told me. I was a bit worried that they were trying to ‘suss me out’ so to speak; trying to find out what really goes on in my head. The day came and I was introduced to the bloke who’d be carrying out the test.
I really didn’t know what to expect, I thought it would be a written test, but to my surprise it was a verbal Q&A in which he made extensive notes throughout. The assessment started with general chit chat and then progressed from there.
Some of the questions were quite ridiculous, but I went with my managers words of wisdom still ringing in my ears and answered perfectly truthfully. A few I remember:

Q: If you could be an animal, what would you be and why?
A: A unicorn, because I’d be famous

Q: Do you think of yourself as a manager, and if so, why?
A: Yes, because I think I’m better than everyone else.

Q: Do you take risks?
A: No, I don’t do any drugs.

Q: When did you last find yourself in a difficult position?
A: When attempting the ‘Rifleman’ last night
(Bloke just gave me a blank stare on this one)

Q: Shoe is to foot as glove is to
A: Washing Up

There were others which I forget now. Anyway on the back of my results, my manager promoted me! Bad management? I think so….
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 10:50, 4 replies)

When I was but a young lad...
...I worked as a labourer for my then-girlfriend's dad installing windows and conservatories in the local area. It was a fairly decent job for a 21 year old lad I suppose, and it gave me a reasonable amount of cash in my pocket (at first anyway) - £200/week was not bad for a young man still living at home with his dad and with no real outgoings. It was my first 'proper job' besides working in supermarkets or fast-food places and I was eager to get stuck into a man's job and get fit in the process.

I started working for him around May, and I thought it was great being outside all day in decent weather - especially when the summer sun really kicked in.

The problem was - it was a 'cash-in-hand' job. I started off doing the odd shift for him and it slowly went from 1 or 2 days a week to 5 or 6 days, and when any holidays came around, I was left with no pay for the duration of the break.

This, I could handle - the job was what it was and I didn't expect the guy to pay me holiday pay when I was technically not working for him anyway. After all - it was supposed to be temporary and as long as he didn't take the piss, things would be O.K, right?

Wrong.

Problems arose pretty quickly when the big boss-man would stop coming in and he would leave me working with the most sectarian piece of shit I have ever had the misfortune to meet in my entire life.

I was raised in a Catholic household (although by this point in my life I had escaped that particular burden) and he considered himself a Protestant which, given that some of the local inhabitants of my particular town had a propensity for sectarian hatred, led to some pretty severe bullying at my work.

Although I was employed as a labourer, about a month into the job I was expected to be able to fit windows and doors, install cladding and guttering, cut wood perfectly, put up fascias around door and window frames, and do pretty much everything else that they had been trained to do as time-served joiners. When I couldn't manage it (or tried it anyway and inevitably fucked it up) I was: "a dumb catholic arsehole" and my work was of a standard: "that you would expect from a fucking catholic" (conveniently, he ignored the results I received in my exams at school and the multiple Universities that were willing to accept me as a student and the fact that I couldn't give 2 shits about the Catholic/Protestant nonsense so prevalent in our locale...)

I would usually work from 8am until late into the evenings receiving no overtime, and therefore also having no fucking life of any description outside this shitty job. I was physically and mentally done-in and, because of the bullying my self-esteem was absolutely non-existent.

He would give me jobs knowing that I would fuck them up (and also knowing that I was too young and wet behind the ears to have the confidence to say "I'm not doing it") and then spit sectarian vitriol at me in front of the customer, then bitch and moan to the boss about the "idiot catholic bastard" that he had working with him. He was obviously trying to get me fired, but I was still a good worker and I still tried my best to make the most out of a shitty situation. I would work non-stop for the ungrateful cocksucker and would even do extra shifts with the boss at the weekend (also for no extra pay) without a peep or a moan.

Without the confidence to just say "fuck it" and walk away, I felt trapped in a situation which led me to work even harder to try and make them see that I was a good guy and not the "stupid fucking catholic piece of shit" that they perceived me to be.

We had to install conservatories in torrential rain and I was electrocuted by the drill on more than one occasion. We would put cladding and guttering up without a harness (the boss didn't buy any for us) when the layer of frost was so thick on the roof-tiles that we should have had fucking spikes on our shoes. I accidentally sliced my thumb open to the bone with a Stanley knife one morning, and when I was discharged from the hospital after an x-ray and some stitches, I got a phone-call to go back to work. Now, bear in mind that I was using power tools, saws, hammers etc. and I was sporting an oversized comedy thumb. He couldn't even give me the afternoon off...even when I turned up looking like a cartoon character.

Suddenly, £200 a week didn't seem like that much money. Something had to give, be it me having a break-down (at 21!) or taking my hammer to this guy's head. I just couldn't take it anymore...

Looking back on it - the boss was probably just happy that he had someone that he could take advantage of and pay less than a Polish immigrant, not to mention the sick-pay, NI, and tax benefits of having a £200/week, cash-in hand, flat-rate slave working for him.

The final straw came when, at Christmas time, the boss gave us our final wage before the holidays. The guy I was working with got a £200 bonus as well as his holiday pay over the next 2 weeks because, you know, he works so hard. The boss assured me that there was something extra for me in my wage packet as well...

There was - I got a £20 bonus.

For putting up with sectarian bullying, shitty wages, electric shocks, dangerous working conditions, and a life that had fell by the wayside because of the long hours, I got a bonus of £20 for Christmas. Nor was I getting any pay over the holidays...

I'd had enough and threw the wages in his face, told him to shove his job, and walked the 5 or 6 miles home feeling fucking amazing.

Because I had stood up for myself for the first time in 7 months, I felt good about myself again. Even if it was just for a fleeting moment, I felt like I was actually worth something.

To this day, every time I think about it, I make a silent, solemn oath never to let someone make me feel as bad about myself as they did.

Apologies for length/lack of funny.
(god_is_a_ghoti Carpe Deum., Fri 11 Jun 2010, 10:22, Reply)

Government employee for 33 years
do I win?
(wallynothere rnot without protection, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 10:11, 3 replies)

I had a "Performance Review". Important, because it decided how much of a payrise we got. There were four levels: "Outstanding", "Satisfactory", "Needs Development", and "Unsatisfactory". In a year when I'd done a lot of extra hours, taken only ten days holiday, single-handedly brought in a large, high-profile job 20% under budget and two weeks early, and just generally performed my ARSE off, I was expecting at the very least "Satisfactory". So what was my scabby bastard boss's reason for putting "Needs Development"? The fact that I'd apparently not been on any training courses that year. So - let me get this straight. I've been asking to go on training courses all year, and been told that there isn't time and "it's not a business priority". And now, at the end of the year, that's MY fault?

Only slightly mitigated by the fact that everyone else in the department got the same shit excuse.
(SonofRojBlake, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 9:53, Reply)

I work for myself, so I'm both boss and oppressed workforce
This leads to plenty of bad management as when my workforce is hungover and grumpy, the management are like bears with sore heads.

Leads to plenty of fun, schizophrenic moments when I need something doing but the minion really can't be arsed. Have to shout at myself lots.
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 9:43, 5 replies)

Just remembered a good one from Lush Leeds
I had been working for Lush for around 2 months at this point, and I told the management team that I had an exam in 2 weeks and I wouldn't be able to work that particular day. They said "Oh yeah, thats fine. I won't put you on the rota".

The week after I reminded them that I had my exam and the trainee (the same one who chucked me over the phone) said that I hadn't mentioned anything and that I'd have to ring around and ask for cover. As it was (apparently) short notice, I asked what would happen if I couldn't get cover. The coversation went -

Me: I told you this last week, but what if I can't get cover in time?
Manager: Well, you will have to come in
Me: But it's my exam! I can't exactly miss it
Manager: If you don't come to your shift, I won't be able to carry on with you in the store...
Me: But it's my EXAM! It's only my long-term career that hangs on this! *Insert icy silence and me refusing to look at her*

I miss the shift, do well in my exam and go in the week after to a flood of apologies from the manager saying it was out of line and wrong that she said those things.

I think thats the first chance I had to see how Lush Leeds don't care about their staff...
(one-winged-angel-616 isn't as depressed as she sounds, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 9:42, 3 replies)

I have no boss
I'm a freelancer, working in film and TV, and reading through some of these stories, in spite of financial insecurities and tax nightmares, don't regret it for a second!!

My story is an incredible example of bad management that I'll try to keep brief.

Basically I was contracted to make films for a one man company, worked well for three years, made some good stuff and was well paid.

That all changed when he had the not-so-bright idea of shooting a feature film in Mexico.

He had a fairly good story and secured a million quid to go out and do it.

We put a UK team of 15 people together, the rest of the crew would be Mexican.

So we all fly out to Cancun, meet our new team of 80 people who we would be spending the next 4 months with, and after a few weeks we start shooting.

Not one of the actors spoke English. The producer who I'd worked for developed a taste for tequila meaning he wouldn't show up for shoots. The director he had picked from the UK was so crap he'd put us back by 2 weeks within the first month, so he was fired and drunken producer announced he would direct it, despite knowing nothing about directing.

He then got into a nasty habit of paying young girls to suck him off - bear in mind he was 50, fat and ugly.

This was never on set, but common knowledge that when he called a wrap, some poor kid would be wrapping her lips around him for a few dollars, which didn't endear him to the local crew ( who were an ace bunch of lads).

He'd yell at the young runners for the most trivial of stuff, ignored his UK tech crew even though they were advising him with the benefit of experience shooting films for years, and before long all the money was gone, so he fled back to the UK without paying people and went back to his wife and kids, sacked everyone, and pretended he had enough material to make his movie. He didn't.

Fast forward 5 years, he's changed his company name 4 times, been evicted from his house, blacklisted in the industry, and still owes £30,000 to the crew.

I did alright, he overpaid me by £10k and I got to keep £2k worth of equipment from the shoot, but if there were ever a case of worse management I have yet to see it.

Length? About 60 minutes short of a 90 minute movie.
(randomkaraoke is seeking mong-wobble-gif mongering on, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 9:41, 6 replies)

another one in the "School Daze" saga
(for previous, see: www.b3ta.com/questions/badmanagement/post751369)

Of all the things I've seen in my nigh-on 21 years on this earth this is going to be the worst.

As mentioned before we are getting a new school with servers and IT network. We will be having a main server room with all the servers, HP Blade enclosures, 60% of the switching equpiment, backup servers, storage NAS, Buidling Management, CCTV and Telephone servers as well as UPSs for the whole lot. Total worth is about £100,000 and if destoryed would cripple the school.

Guess what fire suppression system we've got?

Sprinklers. Mo-foing sprinklers in a server room "to comply with regulations".

Apparently they'll only come on if the room gets to a certain temperature but no-one know what temperature so if the air con goes off over the weekend we could come in monday morning to find the servers have had a nice bath all weekend. No-one also knows if there is a time delay so when the kids set the fire alrm off (an they will) if there is a time delay or the fire had to be confirmed before the sprinklers come on.

What's wrong with gas ffs?
(tb2571989 dies at precisely, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 9:02, 13 replies)

The last place I worked at.
They were very innovative in doing upgrades and repairs on PDA's. Seriously, this small 5 man band made over $2 million in a year.

I got hired on as the assistant to the CEO (sorry, owner), and they were planning on expanding. But then.....PDA's became more affordable. And then woah....hello iPhone....and suddenly some of our major clients were struggling (major clients as in Taiwan based corporations that just couldn't concede to their utter, utter fucking failures).

The bosss used to host meetings once a month, and ask for our feedback. We all had several feedbacks, ranging from "get out of the fucking business before it puts you under" to "start developing iPhone apps".

The day I left, there was $3k left in the company bank account. Not enough to pay the 3 of us that were still working there out of a sense of loyalty.

The boss closed the doors in February. I now consult for him on a commission basis. He still doesn't listen when I say PDA's are now dispensable, and it's cheaper to buy a new one than get one fixed. And that maybe, just mabye he should go into software development - if not for the iPhone, then for Windows Mobile or Android. He has the skillz to do it, but he's determined to make what's left of his business work. And it pains me to see that. 'cos it's not gonna work.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 8:42, 2 replies)

oooh ooh
Just got my self apraisal form from work.
It says on it to answer honestly so your manager can help appraise you.

First question on it is.
"What is it that you do?"
Shouldn't my msnager know?
I mean there are only 5 of us and he sits opposite me.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 8:24, 5 replies)

standard stuff for our place
We are very busy at work.
So much so that the machines we use are going at it non-stop.
There's not so much as a five minute break for them.

Management want more work produced.
Their solution.
Employ two more people to work alongside the three already there, to do what the others are doing already.
When told we need another machine to produce more work we're told.
"No, you're not getting another one because you might not use it."
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 8:19, 2 replies)

still not the stupidist manager Ive had
For a couple of years during the Uni's summer holidays I would often take it upon myself to work in menial jobs to stay in touch with the common people and earn abit of extra cash on the way.

One of these jobs was at a chicken murder factory where my job description was to delve my bare hands as deep into the barely dead chickens as possible and rip out the innards as they swung past me on conveyor hooks. Needless to say this job was unpleasant at the best of times, even without the help of the gutting department’s socially inept and at times maniacal manager.

As anyone who has worked at an abattoir would tell you, it’s one of few jobs in which a seven year jail term for arson is seen as evidence of the conviction and responsibility necessary to make one worthy of promotion.

Clearly his sentence did little for his mental health as we would often see him hitting some of the older employees over the head with chickens. I cannot describe the fear of expecting dead bloodied poultry hit you in the back of the head at any moment. It was never provoked and usually done in the spirit of good fun.

This however, was nothing compared to ‘trick’ he would play on the new employees (of which there was a regular turn-around). If while working you felt a slippery coldness on the back of your neck, expect to find Mr Manager behind you with a chicken liver hanging from his mouth. Quite why he felt the need to put an entire bunch of chicken guts in his mouth, sort them around until the liver slithers out like a tongue, and use it to lick the employees is beyond me.
(augsav forgot about B3ta, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 6:30, 3 replies)

Our old boss
was an unfair old man, who thought the sun shone out of his arse. The managers were racist bullies, and the actual job we were doing was a huge waste of (government) money. Just about every non-manager wanted to transfer, but because of the terrible HR policies this was blocked by the same people who were making us want to leave in the first place. I was the union rep and had many a tense meeting with our boss. In the end we were allowed to transfer, and I was given the job of managing this, as well as drawing up a new code of conduct. Admittedly I didn't do very well in my new 'boss' role, but the way the workers turned on me was very stressful. Frankly I'm not sure why God chose us.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 5:03, Reply)

My old boss was fantastic at giving people enough rope to hang themselves with.
They would make a statement. The victim would try to reply and half way into the sentence they'd get shouted over. Happened to me until I worked it out.

My solution was to stay silent. It's too hard to answer a statement.
(waxdart hello., Fri 11 Jun 2010, 2:02, Reply)

I am a manager
Due to careful and deliberate hiring of the people I manage (I've hired them all), I am lucky enough to have an excellent group of smart, professional people. This leaves me very little in the way of actual "managing", because they're all doing their jobs very, very well. I do help out with a lot on the team, but a big part of my job is spent doing rather menial tasks so that they're freed up to work on their jobs rather than bothering with small but necessary tasks.

I often ask myself if I'm a good manager, or if the fact that I'm frequently looking for things to do means I'm awful. It's the first time I've ever really managed, and my basic premise is to remember all the horrible things done to me in the past, and do the opposite. And to remember that it's just a JOB, and that people have lives outside of work.
(herbivorous, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 1:41, 10 replies)

My work fucks me over all the time
But then I work in a brothel.
(McChinaman banned, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 1:17, Reply)

"The project will take 8 months? That's too long
Let's put two people on it and half it"

Unsurprisingly, it's overrunning.
(Cuthbert Annihilator, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 0:21, 1 reply)

Basically slaves
I used to work on a production line.It was a crap job , monotonous to the point of eye clawing. I spent all day fitting parts of the "product" together, then doing it about two hundred times again.

Now, the owner of the company was an absolute arse.A huge blubbering mass of booze drinking, pie scoffing , unfashionable (had a serious affliation with the colour red bordering on madness),unfunny git i've ever had the pleasure of working for.His laugh was constant and incredibly annoying, he insisted on practising it on the employees before meeting clients.He treated all the staff like they were constantly below him , calling us "the little people" and forcing us to wear ridiculous uniforms.

He was also a terrible buisnessman.The product had to be shipped to a ridiclous deadline so we all had to work long hours sometimes well into the night.We never got holidays off (christmas eve was a nightmare). Then when the product was finally shipped it was so worthless he was practically giving it away.

At the time i would have loved to get another job but this job was abroad and the only other thing i've been good at was making shoes (i know it's an odd skill to have).
The company went under years ago and he now works in a shopping center doing seasonal work.

Thanks for letting me vent my hatred of the so called Mr Claus.

Length? Oh about as long as it takes for him to fly around the world visting all the little kids, bloody pedophile.
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Fri 11 Jun 2010, 0:09, 1 reply)

Apparently......
I'm too quiet. I'd argue that I'm just getting on with my work. I like my job, I'm reasonably good at it, but I don't like to make a song and dance about it.

However, it's been noticed by some of the higher ups, which is not a good thing.

But my boss is a star. He warned me about the undue attention I'm receiving, and said: 'I'd say 'keep your head down', but that's the problem'.
(El Fandango carved a big EF onto his nemesis' doublet on .., Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:40, 4 replies)

Finding out that the crook who ran the place
Hadn't actually paid our National Insurance for three years (despite it showing on our wage-slips).
He was and always will be an utter cunt.
( Hitler's Barber Soylent Green is high in saturated fat, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:36, Reply)

Waterless urinals and 'X's' managers
Ah during my time there i made mistakes (working there is one, so did the managers. But lets get to the story at hand. I was a coustomer care assistant, claning was my job i got paid more than the kitchen staff and i could stomach the literal shit (got too much in the end).

Long before i went on sick we got some waterless urinals instaled in the gents toilets, proper claning is madatory for them. i went on sick for little over a month, i came back hoping for an easy day with no major cleaning or stress. Almost at the end of my shift i had to 'detail' the urinals.

So i get to my stuff ready for a brisk clean of the 'urinals system'. I know what a week of average usage looks like, but when i get to it they're crusted in stale piss and the gunk in in is more than anticipated. There must have been a months worth of shit there. It turned my stomach and still does. Managers are lazy when it comes to checking cleaning jobs.

In eessence The managers were lazy in checking upstairs as i found out on mornings too. in essence bad management fucked it up for me as it gave me too much damn cleaning not enough coustomer time.
( Dances with Rabbits Back to Education i go, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:34, 1 reply)

My boss is terrible with budgets...
he keeps complaining about spending cuts but in the past 2 years has:

1 - bought 10 copies of adobe flash pro that no one has ever used, not even once at a cost of around £2000.

2 - bought two laptop safes worth £2500 each which were the wrong size and only held 10 laptops when we have around 40 even after consulting me and being told which specific ones to purchase, he then ignores and buys the wrong ones.

3 - 40 odd ipods (touch's/nano's) that he left in a locker for a year before ordering more and opening the locker to store them there and realising that he'd forgotten about the previous ones.

4 - telling me we had no money left in the budget for an external disk worth £120 before coming back to me the day before the financial year ended and telling me he'd found £15,000 that needed to be spent asap.

he's fucking useless, he's losing his mind, he's probably reading this and hasn't got a clue it's about him.
(Yo!Mcnutty, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:29, 8 replies)

something about TPS reports
and staplers
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:21, 7 replies)

I am a manager.


How about a question about moronic people you have to try and direct?
( Larry Death Anger Pain Fear Aggression, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:07, 6 replies)

The shit rise to the top
Im a teacher, so enough said
Despite a genuine desire to help kids I am constantly hampered by inept up their own arse managers

I am actually angry that THE MONEY I PAY IN FUCKING TAX goes towards PAYING ME to do some of the inane shit I am forced to do by management when I could be doing somehting that actually helps children

examples include but are not limited to

Filling out hundreds of forms that will never be read by another human
Attending staff training for an hour where we are asked to 'create a scene from Romeo and Juliet in plastacine.......'
Go through at least 4 layers of management to get the bloke down the corridor to move a piano from one room to another (I am 'not allowed' to do it by myself)
Spend four years asking for something to be done with the temprature in my room which reaches 90 degreed in summer to find out 'oh the 'cool air blowers' have 'never been turned on'
Be told at the last minute about everything and expected to 'deliver'
Explain to management on day one that a certain child stands absolutely zero chance of passing the course and in fact will cause other students to fail due to their fucking retarded behaviour and need to be found a 'vocational' place, then repeat this constantly, then be put under scrutiny by management for 'reasons' this child 'failed' as well as the other children that 'failed' as a result of them not listening to me in the first place.

Too many chiefs not enough indians
(robojoel, Thu 10 Jun 2010, 23:05, 2 replies)