Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Dear Senior Manager

Thank you for thinking of me today.

I thought I was all alone in the section today (in the absence of a HEO) and the fate of the day's work rested squarely on my shoulders.

Then, for the first time in six months, you come down from your enormous office to my part of the world, where I am allocated a space that is precisely one sixteenth of your private room. Did you gaze around the huge open-plan area as you entered, taking in the sight of umpteen civil servants running around towers of forms, irritating co-workers who just stand there talking to no-one in particular while getting in everyone's way, people complaining about the draughts and the sound of fifteen different ringtones at once?

No. You did not.

You headed straight for my desk, waving a piece of paper in a manner similar to that of Neville Chamberlain returning from his meeting with Hitler in Munich in 1938.

"Make sure this is updated," you said.

"OK", I replied.

You disappeared, not to be seen for six more months.

Looking at the sheet of paper, I recognised it as something I have updated, almost weekly, for a long time now.

I suppose you have to justify the enormous salary somehow...

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