Bastard Colleagues
You've all known one. The brown-nosing fucker, the 'comedian', the drunk, the gossip and of course the weird one with no mates who goes bell ringing, looks like Mr Majika and sports a monk's haircut (and is a woman).
Tell us about yours...
Thanks to Deskbound for the idea
( , Thu 24 Jan 2008, 9:09)
You've all known one. The brown-nosing fucker, the 'comedian', the drunk, the gossip and of course the weird one with no mates who goes bell ringing, looks like Mr Majika and sports a monk's haircut (and is a woman).
Tell us about yours...
Thanks to Deskbound for the idea
( , Thu 24 Jan 2008, 9:09)
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A tale of two new-starts
In a previous job, I worked with big expensive bits of radio equipment, generally bolted to the roofs of big expensive buildings. We took on two new starts, who I shall call "Confection" and "Cereal" (because otherwise they'd be too recognisable if I posted their nicknames). Confection was great, smart enough and sensible enough to say "I don't know what that is, how do I do it?". You cannot imagine how much of a help it is when someone will stop, ask, and learn how to do something rather than plunging in with both feet and stuffing it up. Like Cereal.
Cereal was a lardy bloke. Apparently he weighed 15 stone - well, I weigh 15 stone and am half the size (and I'm not a skinny wee guy). Cereal couldn't work up ladders, because he said he was too heavy. Cereal couldn't climb on roofs, because he was too heavy. Cereal couldn't get his fat backside out through roof hatches. Cereal couldn't walk on flat roofs, or go near the edges, because, well, I don't know why. He just didn't.
Things came to a head when (having constructively managed to not take Cereal along with me to a few jobs) I was told that he was the only person available to take to a site where I knew I'd be working on a roof made of very thin metal above a very big drop, on crawler boards. Which Cereal would be too heavy for. I ended up taking a skinny shortarse (and at half my weight, perfect for the job) mate along as a cassie, having wangled some sort of day rate for him.
So Cereal is moping around the workshop. The tech manager decides to get him to test some powerful wireless networking equipment, which we used to connect networks over several miles through trees and buildings. You could feel your hand get warm when you put your hand in front of the aerial. Apparently, said tech manager came back through to find Cereal had configured the units, got them talking pointing at each other about six feet apart on the bench, and then gone to sleep. With his head on the bench. Right between the aerials.
I don't know about length, but the brain tumour ought to be about the size of a grapefruit by now...
( , Fri 25 Jan 2008, 17:21, 1 reply)
In a previous job, I worked with big expensive bits of radio equipment, generally bolted to the roofs of big expensive buildings. We took on two new starts, who I shall call "Confection" and "Cereal" (because otherwise they'd be too recognisable if I posted their nicknames). Confection was great, smart enough and sensible enough to say "I don't know what that is, how do I do it?". You cannot imagine how much of a help it is when someone will stop, ask, and learn how to do something rather than plunging in with both feet and stuffing it up. Like Cereal.
Cereal was a lardy bloke. Apparently he weighed 15 stone - well, I weigh 15 stone and am half the size (and I'm not a skinny wee guy). Cereal couldn't work up ladders, because he said he was too heavy. Cereal couldn't climb on roofs, because he was too heavy. Cereal couldn't get his fat backside out through roof hatches. Cereal couldn't walk on flat roofs, or go near the edges, because, well, I don't know why. He just didn't.
Things came to a head when (having constructively managed to not take Cereal along with me to a few jobs) I was told that he was the only person available to take to a site where I knew I'd be working on a roof made of very thin metal above a very big drop, on crawler boards. Which Cereal would be too heavy for. I ended up taking a skinny shortarse (and at half my weight, perfect for the job) mate along as a cassie, having wangled some sort of day rate for him.
So Cereal is moping around the workshop. The tech manager decides to get him to test some powerful wireless networking equipment, which we used to connect networks over several miles through trees and buildings. You could feel your hand get warm when you put your hand in front of the aerial. Apparently, said tech manager came back through to find Cereal had configured the units, got them talking pointing at each other about six feet apart on the bench, and then gone to sleep. With his head on the bench. Right between the aerials.
I don't know about length, but the brain tumour ought to be about the size of a grapefruit by now...
( , Fri 25 Jan 2008, 17:21, 1 reply)
could be interesting
to see if he actually has a tumour. Might confirm some of the stuff about radio wavelength radiation causing tumours.
( , Thu 31 Jan 2008, 14:15, closed)
to see if he actually has a tumour. Might confirm some of the stuff about radio wavelength radiation causing tumours.
( , Thu 31 Jan 2008, 14:15, closed)
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