Motivation….let me talk about this in the context of work. I would say that on the whole I have a very good relationship with my manager, but maybe a different relationship to how many people would have their managers, where they would be shown nothing but the utmost respect for their talents (there must be at least one in me somewhere!), support, guidance and loving. Well let me tell you what it has been like for me this week….
Monday - An alright day as much as it can be on a Monday. Had a bit of a huddle amongst our HR colleagues, then with my manager being away from her desk for some of the afternoon, it was, well… peaceful.
Tuesday - My manager comes in, the first thing she announces to the whole team at the top of her voice is some bollocky radio revolution about how your name would say whether you are good at your job or not. Being called Debbie, a name mentioned in this programme, clearly means I am crap and useless at everything “your name was mentioned Deb, see told you she was a shit manager,” she says to my team. Brilliant, nothing like a bit of motivation to get me going first thing in the morning!! Then in the afternoon after making myself immensely excited over something I really can’t get the least bit excited about, there was the pep talk of “just get it done it needs to happen” (minus the 2 finger salute and a wink you would be expecting next) and then a “you can shove it up your arsehole” comment that followed later on! Fabulous it just gets better.
Wednesday – Now having to face the news of the day before, hounded by a business that hates our department and a name that does me no favours, I’m then stuck in a 5 foot square office with her (my manager) for 4 hours where we figure out what to do, talking about ‘twoddling’ (she was doing this when she crashed her car), which didn’t go down too well with the others in the room being all professional. She’s so childish. At the end when I was scrappling with flip charts and trying to balance every other possible loose item on the table in my arms, I asked her what she planned to do with our findings (a reasonable question), when she responded with “how about we shove it up your arsehole?” Hmm.
Thursday – This was an interesting day. The biggest piece of toot that has been sitting on my managers desk for the last 6 months finally got binned as she decided in her wisdom (being of age now!), that having a desk that looks like a poltergeist playing in toys’r’us, may not actually be the best way to get taken seriously. When I told her what to do with Gooey Louis (aka toot), she told me she’d love to “shove it up my arsehole!” Alrighty then, this is becoming a stock response. The day continued on and being fascinated by the endless stories of how horrible and gruesome little children are, we got onto the subject of toilet habits of a 6 year old. To cut a long story short, she was on the phone waiting for the school to answer just as I was making a profound comment about how her boy had a rectal exam the day before he announced he wanted to be a cheerleader and that there could be a connection. At the point she repeated “rectal examination,” the Head Teacher answered!!! Oh the hilarity, she was bound to get it. Shove that up your arsehole I thought, quite literally!
Today – From the moment she sat down at her desk I was getting the blame for practically everything that was happening, starting with me single handily shutting down the entire international arm of our business (yeah, funny), to spending thousands of pounds on unscrupulous agencies (I wasn’t) because I’m “crap at being a recruiter”. To put into context, being a recruitment manager is my job, so at the beginning of the week I can’t do the management part, and now I can’t do the recruitment part, so I’m pretty screwed really!
Then we started talking about me flying (in an aeroplane obviously) on Friday the 13th and how the plane will crash and they could never see me again and how lovely and quiet it would be without me (in case you can’t tell from this, they didn’t seem in the least bit bothered). So feeling bruised and somewhat bullied from the morning, we moved the conversation onto the company magazine and got into a bit of friendly banter which ended somehow in me being told again to “shove it up my arsehole”. Having been told this every day this week, I wanted to push back on this arsehole thing, where she claimed she didn’t say hole, just arse and if she said hole, she wouldn’t have specified and didn’t want to debate about my holes, which naturally sparked the debate. So all in all it’s been a pretty great week! It’s a good job I can take it, she’d probably argue she gets as good as she gives though. Nothing undeserved I say!
Well thankfully it’s Friday and more importantly it is the end of a full working week before I go to Mexico for 2 weeks. I cannot wait and I intend to have a fabulous holiday. It could be the last exotic one for a while so I want to make the most of it. It is a whole 7 days away however and in the meantime I have to have my hair pulled about for 3 hours in an effort to try to make myself appear even remotely half decent to look at for the holiday. Then get the tickets, then go shopping, then go to the vets, then iron the entire wardrobe, then pack, then get up, run 5k, see my parents, go to work, do an interview for the Telegraph, sustain more motivational pep talks, (pretend to) do some work, fight some fires, then take my cats to my parents, finish packing and finally… go on holiday. Roll on Friday; I’m sure I’ll be greatly missed!
