Friday, July 31, 2009

Bless me manager, for I have sinned

I had my Interim PMDS review a couple of weeks ago.

In spite of the moods, the flailing about, the swearing, the general scowling that I was demonstrating earlier this year, my HEO is happy with me!

Well, the job is being done, and on time. And that's the bottom line I suppose. And no-one's really been hurt.

So, I'm a pretty decent, if sweary, EO.

Take note, Bord Snip.

I probably have the right temperament to be levied off from my current Department to the Department of Social and Family Affairs. DSFA are conscripting civil servants from all other Departments to help with the backlog.

I'll probably remain under the radar, but I could prove to be a powerful weapon in dealing with some of the more errant and antisocial claimants in the dole office:

CO: Govstooge, that man over there's pissing on the floor!

Govstooge: Pass me my machete. It's sausage time. (Leaps over counter).


Govstooge: Here, you can't consume alcohol on these premises.

Wino Claimant: Burp! Fuck off!

Govstooge: Make me. Oh look, I've grabbed your wine. And you're too pissed to get up and do something about it. Not to worry, I'll have security help you to the door.

Wino Claimant: Belch! Y'bitch! Gaargh!

Govstooge: Let's see what it is. Ooh, Buckfast. Reminds me of college. Shame it's been in the gob of someone who reeks of wee. But I think there's a drain around the back that needs unblocking. Next time can you bring in some Dutch Gold so we can at least share them? There's a good chap.

Might be fun, now that I think of it.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Delaying Tactic

One day, at work:

It is 10.45. I am about to get up from my desk to go to the canteen for my tea break.

All of a sudden...

HEO: Govstooge?

Govstooge: (Jaysus) Yes, O boss?

HEO: How is everything going?

Govstooge: Fine. Same as yesterday.

HEO: How did you get on with that job I gave you last week?

Govstooge: I told you yesterday, the person I need to speak to is out sick, and there's no-one else to cover. They're not due back until next Tuesday.

HEO: Oh yes, now I remember. And, is there anything else?

Govstooge: No, nothing.

HEO: You're sure now? You would tell me?

Govstooge: Of course. (I edge towards the door.)

HEO: Oh and one other thing...

Govstooge: (Jesus, you've been in since 9 and you pick this time to talk to me?) What?

HEO: Have a nice tea break! (Heh heh heh, that's at least five minutes knocked off Govstooge's tea break. A new personal best. Must put it down in the log. Muahahahaha.)

Govstooge: For fuck's sake.

Nice work if you can get it....?

In yesterday's paper we had a report of a civil servant of AP rank in the Department of Defence who was paid €80,000 a year to do nothing except sit on his hole reading the paper. More here.

Has the world gone mad?

Eighty fucking grand? To read the fucking paper? Ah come on now.

I'll do it for forty. No quibbling!

Ok, so there are underlying causes such as harassment which can occur at all levels, and to be fair to him his complaint to his Personnel Officer about being idle went unheeded, but it does raise the question of how many civil servants are sitting doing nothing in single-occupancy offices. Heck, there are many in open-plan areas doing fuck all!

I'm not one of these by the way. I have a wide area of responsibility and rarely get a moment to myself. I'm also not in a position to be idle, given that my desk and computer monitor are visible from a wide area and by many people at any one time. I'm not senior ( by way of rank or tenure) enough to hold the coveted corner desk within my unit which guarantees privacy for the incumbent to surf the net, watch DVDs and follow auctions on eBay. This prime location belongs to a HEO who, funnily enough, likes to delegate a lot of stuff to the EOs. A HEO who's not very fast with the Alt and Tab when I approach with a form to be signed off or a question, so I can usually see what's on the screen, or I can just glance at the task bar. Invariably, it is something completely frivolous. Nice work if you can get it, eh?

It's demoralising for those of us in the lower ranks who are not afforded these luxuries of time and optimum accommodation, and who actually do stuff.

But it's not restricted to the public sector, might I add. I had a manager in the private sector who used to spend hours on the boardroom phone talking to her daughter in New Zealand. On company time, at company expense. She was never taken to task about it. I think the bandages on the Managing Director's head had something to do with that.

I've said it before, in hierarchical organisations the higher up you go the less you have to do. So Bord Snip and dear old Lenno would do well to focus on many of the useless layers of middle and senior management when considering how to make cuts. Fuck it, the EOs and SOs run the bloody places anyway!

P.S. I'm not at work right now by the way!

Friday, July 10, 2009

Bored Snip

Jesus fucking Christ, Lenno. Can't you just release the details of the bloody McCarthy report and put us all out of our misery?
All this leakage into the media is making me feel sick.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Govstooge v the CPSU

My HEO approached me today with yet another stupid question:

HEO: Govstooge, why haven't you conducted interim PMDS reviews with your staff this summer?
Govstooge: I can't. All my staff are members of the CPSU.
HEO: So?
Govstooge: The CPSU have an embargo on PMDS since March or so of this year?
HEO: So?
Govstooge: (Jesus!) Look, if I was to ask them to fill out their self-assessment forms, I would be asking them to contravene their union's advice.
HEO: So?
Govstooge: Look, knucklehead, what I earn isn't enough to enable me to take on several hundred COs and their union officials - officials, might I add, who generally earn twice what I do.
So as far as I'm concerned PMDS is not happening this year. Haven't you heard?
HEO: No.

Govstooge: Well, maybe if you didn't have such a fetish for listening to Gerry Ryan every morning talking about his holidays and the latest Danish pastry he's shoving down his gob, you might have heard. Actually, now that I seem to know more than you do, can I have your salary?
HEO: No.
HEOs. What are they good for exactly?

Monday, July 6, 2009

Crap day

Anyway, it was a crap day as I pre-empted in my previous post.
Much of it stemmed from the fact that, while I was busy on other tasks, my HEO approached with something pointless and irrelevant for me to do.

"Govstooge, can you get onto Persephone in Hinges and Knobs Division about this matter. I think we should be informed about what's going on with this."

"Isn't it Hinges and Knobs job to do that in the first place? I mean, we've done what we had to do on it and sent it on, it's out of our hands now, isn't it?"

"Don't rely on them to do everything. It may be that they think it's our job to do it, and that THEY'RE doing nothing. It may well fall between the cracks and we could end up with egg on our faces."

"Jesus. Do I get a second EO payslip for doing their job as well? That might help to bring me up to the €50,000 a year we're all said to be getting."

"Heh heh heh. I'm getting more than that... Uhem! Ah, ... no."


So, I fired off this missive.

Dear Persephone,
Please see attachment.
Can you advise as to what is the status of this project?
I know I've already signed off on it but my HEO's powers of omniscience are receding and there is concern on their part that the project might not be seen to fruition now that it has passed from our division to yours.
If I can be of further assistance to you please return the attachment in the internal mail along with your most recent pay cheque.
If you need anything else please complain to
Kind regards,
Keyholes and Escutcheons Division


Picture the scene. It is 7.30 am on a Monday, and I am morosely commuting my way from Ballyfuck to the Department. Noticing that the fuel hand on the car is dangerously close to "E", and that my stomach, were it to have a similar gauge, would be showing the same thing, judging by the rumbling thence. Damn! I wish I'd gotten up twenty minutes earlier and had breakfast!

I turn into a handy garage and fill up. The car, that is. Not for me the breakfast rolls and damp floppy sandwiches on offer. The most palatable thing on the shelf is a bottle of a drinkable form of yoghurt. Mmmm ... sugary, milky goodness! Or something.

Wanting to get to work for 8, I decide to have it "on the go". Well, I'm going to be stuck at any number of traffic lights on the way so there'll be ample opportunity to gulp it down safely. Or will there?

This morning, I discovered the perfect method of avoiding long waits at traffic lights in the morning. You have to really want to eat or drink the comestible you have brought with you in the car. Then, and only then, will you get a clear run through ALL the sets of lights before you arrive at your destination. Hungry and with low blood sugar. FACT.

Today was the first time in my entire commuting life (Sounds like a swear, eh? Maybe it should be.) that I've seen green lights all the way. No opportunity whatsoever to stop so I had to greedily gulp down the messy goo in the Department carpark before clocking in. And I managed to spill some on myself as a bonus.

It was an inglorious start to a rubbish day.