B.E.L.M. – Bringing Employment to Local Mongs...

The company I work for are ok. They are professional, courteous, and generally efficient. In fact I would go so far to say that their overall record is exemplary, However, they do unwittingly have one tiny glitch in their otherwise glittering infrastructure which qualifies as idiocy…

They employed me.

I wholeheartedly declare that I am quite possibly the laziest, most unprofessional, least competent, facepalm-inducing spasmazoid this side of the Outer Hebrides. Yet inexplicably, every day I am welcomed back into the building and accepted, with a seemingly cheerful ignorance of the fact that I quite blatantly don't know (or care) a gnat’s glistening scrotum about what I am supposedly doing for a living.

Yep – you guessed it - I work in IT. Here is just the most recent example of my knob-rottery for you to feast yer clappers round.

Six weeks ago I had been tasked by the ‘senior managers’ to compile a highly complicated and legally binding Standard Operating Procedure document on the activities and responsibilities of a certain department (exciting stuff!). The problem was, unfortunately, that I have not at any time had a veritable vejazzled clopper of a clue as to how said department actually works. It's not my department, I've never worked in that department, so fuck knows why they asked me to do this. Anyhoo, I found that there was little option but to do the standard, decent thing. I knuckled down, and then spent the whole time fannying about on B3ta, busying myself by doing utter, blinding fuck all, indulged in some pub lunches, and hoped that the problem would just.go.away.


However, earlier this morning my Outlook calendar reminded me that today was the day I had to present my work to my bosses. To be honest I had even forgotten that the meeting was even scheduled for today, such is my ‘finger-on-the-pulse’, go-getting conscientiousness. One way or another, I rapidly came to the conclusion that I was inevitably plunging armpit-deep into a shitstorm of biblical proportions.

So there I was...nursing my hangover and desperately trying to conjure up excuses to wriggle my way out of the bollocking I so richly deserved. In the midst of this panic, I remembered that I also had to do another tiny piece of work that I was actually capable of doing. My task was to conduct a brief security check on an ex-employee and plough through the crap he’d left behind after being recently made redundant. This poor bastard was called Sanjay, and he had apparently suffered quite badly with stress while he was here, and in time honoured tradition the company eventually…*ahem*…’managed him out of the business’ i.e - paid him off and got rid. I didn’t really know him very well but he seemed an alright guy, so it‘s a bit of a shame nonetheless…

Part of this ‘check’ I had to do involved having a quick shufty through his computer files. As I bumbled through the now unemployed chap’s folders, bleary-eyed, and trying to focus (whilst increasingly bricking my britches with fear of the impending kicking I was going to receive)…I happened across something truly magnificent.

Sanjay had a file called ‘Standard Operating Procedure’. I was intrigued. So I had a peek.

It appears that some time ago, Sanjay had written an almost identical document to the one I was currently expected to do. And when I say ‘almost identical’, I mean that it was exactly.the.fucking.same…except for one, subtle difference. Just one, single word difference in fact. Hmm…

This thing was a motherfucking work of art. Concise, professional, brilliant…in the name of whiskey soaked fuck, I considered it worthy of some sort of award. However, I must mention that when Sanjay was here, although I thought he was ok, he wasn’t a particularly popular guy with everybody else, bless him. Although he had obviously worked his arse off quite diligently on this masterpiece, I remembered that when he presented it at the time to his managers it was barely afforded a glance, was simply dismissed as ‘completed….meh’ and quickly forgotten about, in order to enable another metric fuckload of work to be dumped on him.

This opportunity, however, presented me with a choice – and it took about an eighth of a nanosecond to make my decision…

Oh yes…In B3ta tradition I decided to sort of ‘pearoast’ his shit. Hard.

Quick as a flash I activated the ‘find and replace’ function on MSWord, and changed every instance of the word that was not relevant to me, to the one that was. I then signed my name at the bottom and handed it in as the hard earned fruits of my labour.

The whole process took just a few seconds. It must’ve taken Sanjay weeks. Not my proudest moment.

For reasons I cannot quite fathom however, (especially considering my performance), I appear to be relatively popular with my colleagues and managers, and so subsequently this comprehensive, 48 page, in-depth document is now cheerfully considered by all and sundry to be entirely of my own creation. All day I have sat here; being woken up and bothered consistently by colleagues thanking me for my efforts, and praising me for my writing prowess to put together such a wonderful piece of well-crafted corporate bollocks, which in turn will no doubt be archived away to the electronic equivalent of that warehouse at the end of Raiders of the lost Ark.

I know it’s just a matter of time before I get rumbled for being the procrastinating, incompetent fuck-knuckle that I undoubtedly am, but in the meantime, I choose to enjoy these small victories.

Even twats have to have jobs. I’m sorry that so many of you seem to have encountered the likes of me on so many occasions…you genuinely have my sympathies. But in the meantime, despite my conscience not exactly being ‘crystal’…I promise you I will not be running back to payroll tomorrow and insisting that they take back my salary.

Beer doesn't just buy itself, you know.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Thu 23 Feb 2012, 16:50, 9 replies)

This sounds like you have worked in every job I have for the past 10 years
I applaud your honesty and accuracy of how IT works.

Everytime you look at someone and they look like they know what theyre doing? its just another person in the same situation as you.

Dont worry.

Keep up the act.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Thu 23 Feb 2012, 17:07, closed)

'Everytime you look at someone and they look like they know what theyre doing? its just another person in the same situation as you.'
I would go so far to say that can be extrapolated to life in general.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Thu 23 Feb 2012, 17:10, closed)

This is worryingly familiar.
I'm currently ripping off an old test spec for a similar bug on one of our systems.
( Slippery Mick ‏, Thu 23 Feb 2012, 17:09, closed)

In preparation for a review next week
on which a meagre bonus is dependent, I have to produce a couple of procedural documents. One of which I've already found a perfectly workable copy of on the company intranet, and I don't doubt the second is in there somewhere. Clearly this just means that no-one reads them and no-one's going to read them, but what the hell.
( evil_andy Stick stick stick stick sticky sticky stick stick, Thu 23 Feb 2012, 18:48, closed)

Well you did the only logical thing really.
If you hadn't found it then it would've been deleted...
(Natrix, Thu 23 Feb 2012, 19:14, closed)

Agreed
I too am just waiting for the day I get tapped on the shouler and asked what the fuck im still doing here.
( jakedamusss I understand, and dont care., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 5:05, closed)

Such soul-searing honesty can not go unpunished.
Have a click, you gloriously inept twat.
(judgetheobscure used to sweep in butchers' shops., Fri 24 Feb 2012, 11:54, closed)

Winnah!

(anvil, Fri 24 Feb 2012, 11:59, closed)

Keep up the good work!
Have a clicky
(The Magic Number is neither magic nor a number, Mon 27 Feb 2012, 9:23, closed)

nice one
Have a click
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Tue 28 Feb 2012, 16:41, closed)