You're Not The Boss Of Me!
At work I do a rather pathetic but very important job that only I am trained for. As a result, I ignore my legal rights and play nice by arranging all my holidays around said task. So its May this year and all attention is focused on the World Cup which England are definitely going to win (sob) and I'm trying to plan shifts. I manage to reach an agreement with my boss whereby I can come in when I want, for how long I want as long as this job gets done. At first she protests, in case there's problems and I'm needed but I casually remind her I can legally put in all my saved holidays and take the entire month off for footy goodness and leave them screwed so she reluctantly backs down, a little miffed. There's just one problem. I have to attend a meeting with area managers and deliver a presentation. I can't spit the dummy out on this one because it has to be done. So in the spirit of compromise I agree but remind her when England are playing and beg her to try and avoid those dates. She says she'll try her best but the glint in her eye screams of revenge for me pullng the legal blackmail routine.

Everything goes smoothly (with the exception of the poor performance and narrow win against Paraguay) and on the Thursday I finish work just after lunchtime safe in the knowledge that we'll be destroying Trinidad and Tobago that evening. By three o'clock the beers are in the fridge, the friends are all invited, the chairs and sofas are all positioned to face the telly in the front room, the barbecue is clean, the sun is shining and the steaks are slowly coming to room temperature. Thats when the phone rings. It's the boss. She casually informs me that the area managers have just turned up and I have to come back and deliver the presentation.
"On the day of the England match?' I growl in accusation.
"Oh is it? I'm sorry, I didn't realise." She replies. Her voicing dripping with insincere remorse. "Well you might have time to watch it, they're not arriving until 5." She says sweetly.
"The exact time it kicks off???" I accidentally shout.

I don't consider it going too far that I hung up on her. I definitely don't consider it too far that in my fury I quickly re-edited the presentation and chopped it from thirty minutes to just five and I certainly don't think its too far to mentally prepare myself to answer all questions with just one word and refuse to expand. What I do think was going too far was my boss, after the beers had been removed from the fridge and replaced with the steaks, the barbecue being wheeled back into the garage, the living room being put back and the friends all being uninvited, ringing me five minutes before I left the house and beginning the conversation with the immortal line "I can't believe you were going to fall for that!" and laughing her arse off at me. After several exasperated "WHAT?"'s she told me the area managers had cancelled on them and postponed till next month and one of my collegues had told her I was so nice (and gullible) I'd agree to come in even if she pretended it had been arranged for the exact time of the England match.

BASTARDS.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sat 11 Nov 2006, 10:07, Reply)