tweed-clad arty snob man
These are some of the tales of the director of the arts trust I used to work for. I was there for one year and during my sentence, he:

a. Demanded that ALL members of staff find out the exact specification of their computers, how they worked and what all the bits inside it did, so that if they broke they would know why, and be able to fix them. I asked him whether, since he knew how to drive, he was able to dismantle, repair and re-assemble the engine in his car. I got a fortnight in the cooler for that.

b. Lectured me on how storage heaters work on at least fifteen separate occasions.

c. Would don his chief inquisitor hat when approving stationery orders ("Who's ordered these paperclips? They're too expensive!") but then spend £20,000 of the cash-strapped trust's money on a brand new Audi A3 because he needed it for "company purposes".

d. Ensured that his wife had the monopoly on supplying the tearoom with tasteless soup and stale chocolate brownies, getting the trust to pay for a brand-new kitchen in his house in the process and also enabling his wife to overcharge for everything by about 400%.

e. Sacked the Head of Admin/Finance after 20 years of dedicated service with the excuse that her role was no longer required, then employ two brand new people to do her job.

f. Ensured that all the creative, vibrant and self-assured members of staff were quivering husks of their former selves after a week of working under him.

g. (this is my favourite) When the bird-flu thing first appeared and everyone thought it was going to be the next bubonic plague, he insisted that we have a contingency plan involving all staff having broadband so that in the event of an epidemic, we could all work from home in order to keep the gallery running. Because everyone flocked to look at pictures during the plague didn't they.

h. Berated me for keeping files in my office on the floor, the day after he had refused my request for shelves.

He is a total knob. Don't work for him. You'll need therapy.

I did get my revenge at the Christmas party though. I deliberately gave him a mince pie which had just come out of the oven. It burnt his mouth. I laughed.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Tue 29 Jan 2008, 15:05, 2 replies)

...
But you forgot the laboured pun!
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 29 Jan 2008, 15:07, closed)

huh
All the above being true, I didn't think I needed it!
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Tue 29 Jan 2008, 15:09, closed)