Helpdesk sweatshop
A long, long time ago in a town far, far away a young PJM was recruited by a software company as a helpdesk analyst.

I applied for the job and was invited in for a rather gruelling round of interviews and tests was conducted and I was hired.

I was introduced to my boss, who had been with the company since leaving school some twelve years before. He looked vaguely familiar to me. I wracked my brains and remembered that I used to know him when I was a child. He'd been a gobby shite, but time seemed to have mellowed him. How wrong I was.

A few weeks later Rob recruited another analyst and duly paid him £5k a year less than me. Then my problems started.

Rob quickly showed his true colours, he was both a monumentally insincere arse-licker and also liked to manage by fear. This dual side to his temperament rattled me, one minute he'd be publically praising me and the next the knife would be drawn. Being the only non-smoker on the helpdesk meant that at 9am every morning I'd have to deal with all the urgent shite while he went off for a fag and to stick the knife in.

Our latest release of software was as buggy as hell. I had been dealing with a particularly unpleasant client trying to resolve their issues for them prior to my wedding, however I wasn't satisfied that I was getting anywhere with dealing with the root of their issue.

Rob asked me to step outside with him.

"I can't help noticing that you're bringing your wedding nerves to work with you. It's not acceptable, you must make sure they stay out of the office." he said sternly.

I nodded and apologized. I held back, as Rob was going through a messy prolonged breakup with his wife. What's worse? A wedding or a breakup? I made the guy a cup of coffee as a concilliatory gesture.

Later that day I could not believe what I was hearing.

"Well, we have been talking to Marriage Guidance and I'm doing what I can. I don't want to lose the boy..." said Rob, on the telephone in front of the whole office.

"...she wants more excitement in the bedroom..." he continued.

I kid you not. Not only was he bringing his personal life into the office, but he was discussing it on the phone with clients who we were supposed to be assisting. Professional or what?

On the Friday before I was due to fly off on honeymoon, I went through my outstanding problems with Rob. We came to this issue and I asked how should I proceed and who it should be assigned to.

"Close it" was his response.

"You sure?" I asked

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a data input problem" he replied. I duly completed the log and saved it.

Two weeks later I came back to work and was duly summoned to a disciplinary meeting with Rob and the Customer Service Director.

"You closed a serious issue without due consultation and thus caused an embarrassing incident with the client" said Rob

My mouth fell open. I could not believe what I was hearing.

"You told me explicitly to close it!" I retorted.

"Trying to pin the blame for your actions on a manager is a very serious matter" replied Rob, much to the Customer Service Director's interest as he sat there nodding.

Fuck. I was being stitched up good and proper. I had no proof of this episode and obviously Rob was about as trustworthy as the rhythmn method. The fucker had also edited my helpdesk log details too.

"You have to buck your ideas up sunshine".

I had no choice but to sit there and nod.

From there on in, I was very, very careful with Rob. Whenever we discussed anything at all, no matter how trivial I scribbled a summary down next to the time and date. This annoyed the bejeesus out of him.

Then the outright bullying started.

"You're not pulling your weight sunshine" was a phrase oft uttered.

However, I had access to the helpdesk statistics and could prove that I was indeed pulling my weight. I was resolving more calls than the other guys - including him.

Without a word, I printed the stats together with a few emails from clients thanking me for my help and pinned them to the noticeboard, leaving copies on the Customer Service Director's desk.

He was enraged. Determined to prove a point, he started to take calls himself and reduced my allocation of unresolved calls. He got the other analyst geed up to compete and it was obvious whenever I was on the phone that the pair of them were emailing each other, looking at me and giggling. This went on for some months, with the most toxic issues being farmed out to me and Rob pouring over the stats every Friday afternoon. I raised my game and refused to be beaten, however it was clear that I was on the losing side.

My confidence was shattered, so I had one last move left. Without too much bother I got hold of some of the emails Rob had sent round about me to, which clearly crossed the line (stupid fucker didn't delete them all...). I took copies and compiled a small dossier. With another job to go to, a plan formulated in my mind.

"Rob, I need a meeting" I said

"Yeah mate. Maybe later?" replied Rob as he wandered out for another cigarette break.

I put my written resignation in his intray, knowing he wouldn't read it. I put a copy in the Customer Service Director's intray and sat back in my chair waiting for it to kick off.

Phone rings. Rob gets up and walks into Customer Service Director's office. Door closes.

Fifteen minutes later he comes out with his tail between his legs. Apparently Rob had taken a kicking for not responding to my requests for an apprasial (which I'd noted in my resignation letter).

"Fuck, we did need to talk!" he snarled as he walked past me.

Amazingly, Rob seemed to be the only person surprised by my resignation. The Customer Service Director was concerned that Rob had done fuck all to deal with some of my grievences I'd listed and had torn him off a strip. I'm delighted to say that worse was to come.

Six weeks after I left, I sent my dossier of Rob's emails to the Customer Service Director by confidential mail together with a summary of events, dates and times and my take on the proceedings.

And that was that.

*postscript*

I was enjoying a drink with an ex colleague prior to my resignation who filled me in on a few colourful details. Rob's missus was a very difficult woman, she'd been knocked up at sixteen and met Rob when her first kid was a toddler and she was in the final throes of a relationship of sorts with the good for nothing father. The suspicion was that Rob was her meal ticket. Being extremely needy she'd phone him at work and demand he came home to replace a lightbulb in the bathroom that had blown, as she was too scared to turn on anything electrical "in case the house burned down". She'd decided that life with Rob wasn't much cop (clearly possessed of a reasonable degree of perception) and had started chatting to guys online.

Just prior to my wedding, Rob had apparently been discussing with colleagues that his missus had asked him to take raunchy pics of her which she then emailed to one of her online flirtations, with the intentions of meeting for sex - with Rob's full prior knowledge.

Just to rub it in to the guy, like... He deserved it.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 24 Jan 2008, 9:19, 5 replies)

jesus!
How the hell did you resist punching the bastard?
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:13, closed)

Well,
Rob isn't the worst I have worked with by a long shot. I had several colleagues privately express their support and Rob's ineptitude was no secret.

I wanted to deny him the sympathy vote a bloodied nose would have given him.

[edit] A new guy has started at my office this week who was a client of my old employer and worked with Rob. He thinks that Rob is a cunt too. Small world, huh?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:22, closed)

*click!*

(Musuko, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 17:59, closed)

Clicked!
What a tosser that bloke Rob is. Still is, probably.
( Fathter Puddytat Kill Kill dat widdle boid is mine on, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 19:36, closed)

I think I know why he didn't like me.
When I was ten, I kicked him in the bollocks and ran away. In retrospect, I wish I'd have kicked him again.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 25 Jan 2008, 0:11, closed)