More Corporate Gobbledygook bollocks talk of the highest quality…....

Can anyone decipher what the fuck this pile of wank garbage company shite talk is about? I have edited it slightly to remove any obvious references to The Company or people, in a kind of GrocerJack arse and job preservation manner, but this is the body of a genuine email sent to all of our department.


"Dear all,

Update from Anonymous Suit (Corporate Planning and Performance Director)
Thank you for all your support with the Future Way Ahead Project Alignment exercise. Thanks to the comprehensive response from all parts of the business, we have managed to collect and review over 900 templates. The next stage is to work with the Initiative Owners and Initiative Leads to make decisions on whether the mapped projects should be integrated, refined & integrated, or discontinued. Given the inputs so far we believe that we can now accelerate and simplify our information capture process. We will only need Template 2 to be completed in the following circumstances:

• For all projects currently unmapped to any of the 23 Initiatives, template 2 will be issued to you (PSTSO will send to Project Sponsor) w/c 2nd June for completion by 16th June.
• If, following review with the initiative owner / lead, further information is required (Template 2 will be issued on a project by project basis as necessary)

This will significantly reduce the burden on you and your teams in providing information to this process. Updated copy of our outline process and timetable:

Template 2
Following a change to the process, we now no longer require a Template 2 for all our projects submitted by our PM's.

Sponsor re-alignment
All projects have been Sponsored by Exec level Sponsors only, we now have the opportunity to align to the true project Sponsor which may be the domain head or senior manager in a team. The current Sponsors for a large number of our projects have reviewed the list and have made suggestions on who is true project Sponsor. This work will communicated next week as part of Template 2 process and updates to follow next week.

Timesheet code - IMPORTANT
Please encourage all your teams to book any time we are spending on this alignment project to TSheet code PTW_002816 Future Way Ahead Mobilisation This will ensure we can track the cost and disruption to normal activity as we focus on sorting out the future.

Regards,

Company Corporate Communications"

God fucking help us if we are employing people to produce this sort of gobbledygook corporate bollocks talk.

Just a quick post in a sea of excessive golfing, footie watching and Guinness drinking. Plus a bit more study of the philosophy of Darwinism, which apparently at its most extreme seems to imply that men are genetically disposed to shag loads of attractive women in order to increase the chances of their genes being carried into the future, and women are genetically disposed to try and ensnare those men who will provide a better future for the children and them (by being rich?). To be honest it’s an eye opener, and the definite implication is that we can’t help acting upon our genetic traits. And I have always said that men have primeval urges to letch and look at other women, now maybe I have the back up of the scientific community :-)

Later, Grocerjack

Peace has broken out!

A quick post as this is the first day of my week of liberation. I was ona techie course yesterday, a one day overview of our marvellous new High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings technology, upon which the glorious and all-conquering future of The Compnay is based.

You will all eventually succumb to this technology. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

It was dull.

When I got in last night,GMD was completely hyper. Still packing, ironing and fussing over her week long sojourn to Tropical Sunny Island. From the moment I got in until she went to bed, it was rat-a-tat-tat chatter. Baby is nine, she is 40. You would have been hard pushed to determine who the little girl, overcome with excitement, was!

So, all alone, peace and quiet for the week. No work, no worries (well a little backlog of studying post-Darwinian Theory's effect on human nature, and how to use "conditionals" in a debate...yeah very exciting).

Later , Grocerjack

The Survey…..

The Scene:

Jack is wandering back to his desk on the first floor of recently expensively refurbished office included refurbished and improved water leaks, dysfunctional toilets with added viewing for passers by, no microwaves as we can now walk 400 meters to another recently expensively refurbished building with canteen (they call it a restaurant…but don’t they have waiters?) and brown grit machines (apparently coffee is what the brown grit is). Jacks phone rings…..shit…its still got the ring tone set to the clipped mp3 recording of the first scene in Pulp Fiction……

“Everybody be cool this is a robbery!” (the marvellous Tim Roth aka Pumpkin/Ringo)

“Any of you fucking pricks move, and I’ll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!” (Amanda Plummer –Honey Bunny/Yolanda)

Cue the Dick Dale guitar theme….Jack flies to the desk and stops the tune, which most appear to like, realising the damage is done….

Heads turn, some people smile, some frown…Jack looks sheepish as this is the outside of office ring tone, guaranteed to make people laugh or look in the pub, but definitely not for the middle of the office or ….god help us…in a meeting. Work time is supposed to be the lilting Ennio Morricone theme to A Fistful of Dollars, although The Mexicans in the office may get upset at that.

Jack (says): Hello Grocer Jack speaking

Caller: Hi, this is Cold Calling Bird ringing on behalf of the Big Telephone Company, would it be possible to gain access to a few minutes of your time

Jack (thinks): Shit, they fucking got me, if it’s a bad day then it’s a sales pitch, if it’s really bad then it’s a survey
Jack (says): Hi (she sounds nice OK!)

CallBird: The Big Telephone Company treats its customers very seriously and would like your feedback. This is a survey that is approved by the British Cold Calling you Sad Bastards Survey Overlords, of which I can give you an address, phone number and web site afterwards. Would you be prepared to assist in this survey? Big Telephone will give £10 to Childline for every successful interview conducted.

Jack (thinks): Great Charity fucking blackmail….I can see the headlines “Kid killed for the want of £10 because some miserable fucker wouldn’t do a survey”
Jack (says : Yeah, no problem, anything to help (yep, she sounds dead horny now!)

CallBird: It’ll only take a few minutes, and the call will be recorded for quality assurance purposes. Please feel free to answer “Don’t know” at any point

Jack (thinks): You might be horny sounding but this is a fucking script girl…break away, think for yourself…
Jack (says) : Fire away.

CallBird: With regard to Big Telephone Super Flagship product, how would you rate this on a scale of 1 to 10

Jack (thinks): It’s a fucking phone, it’s been around for a 100 years
Jack (says): Oh , that’d be a 9, after all its changed my life for the better immeasurably, I mean where would we be without it….certainly not doing this survey…ha ha
Jack (thinks): Good one son, that ought to break the tone of Callbirds scripted happy, yet horny voice

CallBird: errrr…….just the rating please……moving on

Jack (thinks): fucking bitch

Then followed the most stultifying, boring, deadly dull, life sapping, mind numbing, cock flopping, lend me a blunt rusty knife with which to hack at my wrists 30 minutes of my life. When did “a few minutes” become thirty? Will God refund them to me with these words?

“Sorry Jack, have them 30 minutes back I didn’t mean to create these cold calling survey androids, they were a fuck up made up from the leftovers of my other complete fuck ups. You know the ones - double glazing salesman, tabloid journalists, traffic wardens, project managers, doctor’s receptionists, lorry drivers, car parking attendants, Davina McCall, Dale Winton, Morrisey, Westlife, Eastenders script writers and religious clerics. I mean even Gods have a few off days Jack”

A nice thought that God might say that but somehow I doubt it!

Anyway, the questions were simple enough, with answers from 1 (bad, death, pain, they deserve to die) to 10 (fucking superb, ace, great, the world is lovely, I want Big Telephones babies), but Miss Horny Cold Calling Bird began to sound more like Miss Stepford Wife Cold Calling Bird with every question. If I asked her to repeat the question you could hear her struggle with the concept of being questioned, of having to deviate from the script. By the end of the interview I had the feeling she was actually a 3-Star MacDonald’s waitress, working in her lunch hour. The temptation to ask for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, Large Fries and a Diet Coke (hypocrite..moi?) was indeed very great. But then I applied the Principle of Charity and decided the poor brainless, mindless, soulless, semi-sentient and by now sexless Miss MacDonalds/Cold Calling hybrid was probably just doing what she was told, and what she thought was needed in order to try and scrape enough of a meagre pittance with which to try and conduct an experience of a life. I smiled with my voice for the last 2 minutes, she thanked me for my time and we parted, not as enemies, nor as friends, but as two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year. Running over the same old ground etc etc etc.


Later, Grocerjack

Nothing Official Yet…..

Hmmm, I have been invited to a meeting today to discuss the tenders placed by High Powered Corporation and Desperate Dan Corporation. The tenders are for the management of a work flow package for 3 years. Not too thrilling I admit, but the fact I have been asked to attend seems a tacit implication that I will be managing the contract and the eventual winner. That should mean some good corporate football and golf days….errr I mean interesting and stimulating challenges in the drive to leverage effective cost savings and delivery mechanisms………

Aaargh! Oh my God, am I becoming one of “them”?

No fucking chance 

The Mysterious M has also confirmed to me that I will be managing one of his teams in the next couple of weeks. I think the team is the one that manages the capacity and performance of all of The Company’s High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings. I think it also produces an annual High Tech Pipe, Tube and String Strategy Plan. This is interesting because I am from a mainly operational background in which forward thinking and proactive planning are not generally the norm. They might be encouraged, but in truth most operational environments are so hectic you get fuck all chance to look ahead and plan strategically. Maybe it’s a deliberate ploy to get me into a role in which I have time to think, which wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe this was part of The Sandman’s master plan all along. Maybe he is really my friend……

But let’s get this straight, this is in addition to my current role, not instead.

For the same money.

Whether or not I’m allowed to be a manager or whether the role is akin to being The Milk Monitor is another thing entirely. Previous experience indicates The Company likes their managers to say yes to Corporate Cock, not to think independently, to tow the Company line and then grants them all the authority of a Brownie Sixer! It’s almost like being part of the Borg………..perhaps our Mission Statement should be

YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED.
RESISTANCE IS FUTILE.

It may mean less posts though because undoubtedly my current freedom of time will now be more restricted, so evening posts may be come the norm. Fear not though, as this will just another source of inspirations….more grist to Grocerjack’s Mill.

Final note: If anyone thinks guns are a valid form of self defence, then the stupidity of this South African ex-Springbok rugby player featured in a BBC report shows the folly of gun ownership. And why not just ring the police and claim off the insurance? Did he really think it was justified to shoot a car thief? I can't think of a bigger price to pay.

Later, Grocerjack

New Jack City!

No major post today because as you can see I've been fucking about with the look. Changing it around is a bit fiddly, so thanks for fuck all Blogger but sincere thanks to the Ministry of Crap Design for putting your Marque of Crapness on the user interface. Nice too know they're still around. After a bit of perseverance I liked this "darker" look the best and eventually got the links, site meter, guestbook link (please sign it someone!) and comments working. No more "trackback" option but then as far as I can make it out it was about as much good as one legged man in an arse kicking contest.


I actually worked hard today on the weekly forecast report, like anyone fucking reads it or takes notice of it. Strange things have happened in my absence last week and a meeting with my boss, The Mysterious M, has indicated that my current life of Riley is about to revert to a higher level of manicness and shite, for the same money no doubt. When it's official I shall of course keep the rest of you trapped wage-slaves informed. Must remember to write about the customer survey I did for 30 minutes (yes 30 fucking minutes!) for the Big Telephone Company. It defied belief.

Anyway comments are welcome on the new look or anything else your minds can muster.

Shattered....

Thursday Night:

Course day one complete, good interesting course, lovely hotel, great food and plenty of it. Downside....nothing! The Company put a free bar up for us - it was a very funny and enjoyable evening - I think the final bar bill was circa £1400, which is most defintely a "quality effort". Jack;s "faux pas" though was to assume one of the guys who had rung home and got some earache from his partner was ringing a girl. Unfortunately after stringing me along for a while whilst I told him my years of experience in how to treat women, especially when you're away on a residential course with a free bar, he then decided,much to everyones amusement to let me know that "he wasn't on the same bus as me". Glad I could amuse everyone with that little faux pas, especially as apparently he had made it fairly plain in comments at the table that he was gay. Sometimes I amaze myself in my ability to completely miss peoples signposts!

Friday Day: Plenty of hangovers, I survived by ensuring I drunk only top notch red wine, and plenty of Beamish (the not quite as good as Guinness drink). We then were expected to break bits of wood with our bare hands as a sign we had absorbed the course contents about our belief in ourselves. 6 people were in front of me, guess who fucked his first attempt. Yep, me, what a dick! In my defence all I can say was that an inappropriate thought invaded my mind at the moment before I struck it. You see, this happens to men, straight or gay. We think about sex every 20 seconds or so, and what can we do about it.....fuck all! We have hundreds of thousands of years of evolution programmed into us. It's a primeval urge, and we're powerless to stop it. When a man goes blank,or looks at another woman walking down the street it's usually because he's thinking about screwing someone! No-one laughed out, but I knew inside they were.I got it second time though that was down to being so fucking angry that I had been first to fuck up. I'm glad my incapability gave everyone a laugh.

Friday Night: Pub, Guinness, argument with Mr Chelsea about Chelsea. No-one agreed with me that Fuckwit had to go. The Governor came over for a chat, put his glass of scotch on the counter, and it went to fall over. I leapt forward to prevent it doing so. Gales of laughter as everyone burst out. The glass was a trick glass with a curved bottom. I'm glad I amused everyone again with my stupidity. There was a drop dead gorgeous woman at the bar, so perhaps my mind had wandered again (no perhaps about it really!)

Saturday Day: The Cup Final, more Guinness, shit game, BigSykes and LittleSis stayed over. Thats' 3 nights of drinking and I feel awful. I am old. I am a third division drinker. I cannot do it anymore. Teenager was obnoxious,stroppy and ignored all of our time directives (be back by 7:30, ring us when you get to Sulkies, let us know what time your coming back tomorrow - all ignored), although Mini-Me and his mate Minimum were so incredibly polite I might ask his parents if they want to swap him for a daughter.

Sunday: Golf with Medallion Man. He played well, I played shit for the front nine, but good on the back nine. Encouraging. By the time I got home I was unable to move because every joint seemed to lock up.

This is a big week. My company car goes back this week because I don't need it anymore and the Meriva comes on Friday. A new toy to play with. GMD (see the cast!) is off to Sunny Tropical Island on Friday with Teenager and Baby, plus The Majors wife and kids, along with The Kings Wife and kids. Alone, for a whole week, and off from work whilst they're away. Bliss.

Later, Grocerjack

Out for a while......

M caught up with me today...there may be news about my role....watch this space.

My thanks to Strings for guitar lesson tonight. Very useful, and a real jump was made with getting a chord right! He also heard Teenagers request for Mini-Me and mate to come over on Saturday. Teenager asked if it was alright "if they went upstairs to watch a DVD". In my day it was "to play records", and the main reason for that was to mask the noises of teenage boys trying to see how far they could go with teenage girls. I know this BECAUSE I DID IT! And no-one will convince me that things have changed for the better. BigSykes and SmallSykes will be over for the footie so I have backup for the tormenting and piss taking of this motley crew.

My answer was simple

"Yes, it is OK, but the door remains OPEN!"

I heard the mumbled answer about wanting to keep Baby out, and something about me being over protective and "nothing happening". Proof if ever it was needed that my suspicions were right. The door will be open, and regular patrols from Guinness drinking footie fans will be "de rigeur".

I'm on a course for 2 days so no posts for a while.

Later , Grocerjack

The Sandman…he calleth…pt 2……

Jack is idly sitting in the office, discovering the delights of hunting out new screensavers with which to crash his machine. After downloading 3 free ones which then demand payment Jack is getting frustrated. Five Live is discussing Speed Cameras – Jack wants to call in and say something but before he gets the chance, the dulcet tones of Metallica thumping out Enter Sandman, provide the ominous forewarning of The Sandman requiring my services…

Jack (thinks): Shit, what could this be about? What have I done wrong that he could have discovered…..
Jack (says): Hi Jack speaking…….Oh sorry, Hi Sandman…I didn’t realise it was you as I was busy writing this latest report…..

Sandman: No problem Jack, nice to know you’re hard at it…..its about your monthly report…

Jack (thinks): Shit, that took about 5 minutes to do and it probably shows..
Jack (says): oh right…well sorry it was a bit late but it took a good day and a half to collate the figures and make sense of them for you…….

Sandman: I thought that would be the case. Well it’s very good…but….

Jack (thinks): fuck me...he thinks its good, so why is there always a bastard “but”
Jack (says): Oh right, thanks….what else can I add for you?
Jack (post-thinks): Well done gobshite, why not just ask him for more of this shite…..

Sandman: Well, it’s more about what you can remove……

Jack (thinks): Huh?
Jack (says) : Huh……..I mean sorry Sandman….you want something removed?

Sandman: Yeah, the figures are bit too “positive” and I’m not sure they reflect how serious we are about driving up performance. If people see how positive they are they might slack off. Plus, I don’t like the colours on the stats table you included…we need them to be more……..traffic lighty….

Jack (thinks): Too positive? Traffic lighty? Am I tripping?
Jack (says): errr….so you want me to remove the “good” headlines and stats, and make the stats table more “traffic lighty”….

Sandman: yeah…you know more Red, Amber and Green, like erm…traffic lights and just downplay the success levels, and make the target performance figures more aggressive…cheers mate…any queries give us a call….I’m always available

Jack (thinks): how the fuck did it come to this…quick ask him about the other role…
Jack (says): No problem Sandman , any news on the additional role?

Sandman: …silence

Jack (thinks): mobiles don’t have the “click and burr” of someone cutting the call
Jack (looks at phone): confirmed…Sandman has finished the call
Jack (says): bollocks
Jack (thinks): call him back and pin him down on this……

Jack then dials Sandman by virtue of speed dial key. 25 seconds later (yep that is speedy….not) the phone answers

Jack (says): Oh Hi Sandman…just wanted to catch up with you on the additional role….

Sandman: Your call has been diverted…
Sandman: Hi, this is Sandman’s Secretary. Unfortunately …blah blah blah

And that in today’s hi-tech, wireless connected, high speed, information rich, always “on” world is what we mean by “always available” !

Finally – the nannies are at it again – so not happy with stopping us from smoking, drinking (specifically us 40-something, once a week, binge drinkers), eating (all food other than organic lettuce appears bad), having the odd joint (addles our brains), sunbathing (causes cancer in Med-like Sunny Britain), driving (cos you speed) and flying (DVT), I noticed this on the Beebs news site. So no more Perrier, Diet Vanilla Coke, Tango, Fanta, Tizer or anything. Cut out the soft drinks or you’ll all die. Stick to fruit juice until someone discovers that it causes leprosy!


Later, Grocerjack

Lorry drivers…get out of my life….

A moan, straight from the top of the GoGB!

Every morning I drive the best part of my journey along the A34 from Winchester, where I pick it up. And every fucking day some lowlife, shitneck, wanker with the intellect of an amoeba HGV driver, or brain dead white van driver (although they are slightly less evil) decides to try and overtake one of his compatriots. The A34 is a dual carriageway, but with the normal Motorway speed limits. So Mr “I own the fucking road” Lorry Driver moves out into the outside lane, because some arsehole driver on a jolly outing decides to let them out. However, the Ministry of Crap Design has got there first and decided that all lorries will have a maximum speed and acceleration within 0.01 mile per hour of each other. So, Mr “I own the fucking road” Lorry Driver is doing 56.01mph, whilst the other idiot is doing 55.09 mph. This means that for 10 minutes the two lorries are vying for position because Mr “I own the fucking road” Lorry Driver is determined to win the duel, whilst the other prick is determined not to yield his minute advantage, as well as being too fucking stupid to ease off and let the other one pass.

Result = stalemate, plus two mile queue of frustrated drivers driving nose to tail at 55.08 mph and 6 inches apart!. And they call themselves professional drivers…don’t make me laugh!

Come my revolution and these knobheads will be restricted to travelling between midnight and 6 in the morning on Motorways and A-roads only, not through villages with localised fleets of electric powered white vans taking stuff to the point of delivery (a sort of nationalised white van courier) , the Supermarkets will have to plan their logistics better, the railways will be rebuilt to re-instate all the branch lines cut by Beeching, and increased to incorporate loads of light rail and monorail systems, the canal system massively upgraded to allow non-perishable freight to be carried to delivery sites. Oh yeah, and I’d make more use of air freight by increasing the number of out of town regional airports with strict noise limits. I agree this will be at huge cost to the taxpayer including (and especially) big business. But at least it’ll get the fucking lorries off the road and I’ll be able to drive to work without lumbering 44 ton environment killers and frustration creators blocking my route. And if that sounds selfish, fucking right it is!

I actually saw the “beheading video clip” the other day.Yes it is out there, still easily available on the net. This may seem like voyeurism, but I don’t believe in censorship for adults, and I’ll judge what I can and can’t see. It was shocking, truly brutally shocking, and callous beyond belief. Am I damaged by it? No – but it has made me more angry than I can believe. It has underpinned my view that these bastards should be summarily executed. No trial, no fairness, no publicity, just painful death and ignominious disposal (perhaps feeding the bodies to pigs, just as a final ironic twist). If anyone is in any doubt about the brutality, wickedness, pure evil of these people then this one video clip would soon change their mind. If people are de-sensitised to the violence spreading throughout the world then this is an instant cure. Suddenly I feel very aware that I’m not as hardened and dispassionate to such things as I was before. And that must be good because it is one more person who DOES give a shit.

Finally, Blogger has done some jazzy updates, which I might try and implement soon. It means I can also post from my mobile via email. This means my sanity can remain unthreatened when I'm on a course or holiday (because writing this stuff really DOES help). I'm still toying with getting it hosted so that I can start putting some pics up.....so any fellow bloggers with tips on the pros and cons...please drop me a line.

Later, Grocerjack

Where did that weekend go?

Bloody hell I’m fucked………

That weekend zipped by in the blink of an eye. I don’t feel I have stopped for a minute. Friday night was pub night as usual. The atmosphere was good, except that Medallion Man was somewhat quiet. Subtle enquiries revealed that he had split from his girlfriend, unwillingly by all accounts. His girlfriend Miss Sarajevo is from Eastern Europe and …well lets just say that like most east Europeans she is rather direct. Fiery would certainly be an apt description. It’s strange and quite disconcerting to see someone like Medallion Man, normally so extrovert and loud, in such a sullen mood. I hope they either get back together or he resumes his normal obnoxious and gobby rantings soon. I don’t think I can cope with Morose Medallion Man!

Saturday was the inaugural barbecue, by that I mean the first family barbecue of the year, this year hosted by MiddleSis and SmallSykes at their house. I love the way the sun brings everyone’s mood up and this was very much the case, as everyone ate and drank too much. We were graced with presence of The Grand Master and Raptor to give the event a royal presence. The boys beat Leeds 1-0 and so this was a good day. We walked back late in the evening, slightly drunk, slightly burnt and very content.

Sunday we went to the seaside, as we are only 20 minutes from the coast. I love the seaside, its great for watching people. All walks of life are on show on sunny days. My favourites were the old man with very long shorts, and incredibly long socks. A complete fashion disaster! And why wear shorts with halfway up the thighs socks? Doesn’t that negate the whole purpose? He was closely followed by the Muslim family having a picnic. The men, of course, in shirts and jeans, the women if full Muslim top to toe regalia. Just a slit in the burkha for them to see through. They must have been boiling, and a bit ripe in that outfit!.

Just watching the ships leave the harbour made me feel a pang for not visiting my beloved France this year. I could have boarded any of them happily. Anyway in the afternoon we were visited by Bob6 and his family. Now, whatever I have said about Bob6 in previous posts he is still my mate and so we sat down and enjoyed a copious amount of Sangria during the afternoon. Weekends should always be sunny – it should be obligatory!

I have just seen the England squad for Euro 2004. It is good to see 4 Chelsea players in there, especially Joe Cole, who is rapidly becoming my favourite player. However, what the fuck Sven is doing by including that carthorse Emile Heskey is beyond me. He has 45 caps for England as a striker – he has scored 5 goals in that time. Is it just me or can others see the paradox here? 45 games – 5 goals. He must have something on Sven that’s all I can think of. Jermaine Defoe from Spurs is banging in goals right, left and centre, but he can’t get in and we have to watch as the Donkey that is Heskey plods around the field in his normal clueless and witless manner. We are in trouble if that’s the best we can pick.


Later, Grocerjack

An arbitrary post

I sat down and finished my 3rd OU assignment, one week late, and covering an incredibly boring subject, taught in an incredibly boring and disjointed manner by the author of the book we have to read. The writer is a veggie, and boy doesn’t it show. In fact she alone has probably done more to persuade me to go on Atkins for a couple of weeks with her pompous and patronising views. The question for which I had to write 2000 words (finished on 1986 eventually) was….

Which theory offers better safeguards for animal welfare – contractarianism, or the indirect duties view?

I went for contractarianism, well its obvious innit?

What I really wanted to say was

“How dull is this subject? How much duller could you make it?”

.......and then gouge out my eyes with a rusty spoon before marinating them in Masala Sauce and feeding them the local feral cat, whilst walking in acid filled boots after pulling my toenails out! That’s how boring it was!

Today, I met with M, my mysterious boss. Well, it was for my Bi-annual Review, a sort of sham process whereby you write down what you think of your performance over the last 6 months, and then your manager tears you to pieces “as part of your development”. They then set unrealistic and vague objectives with which to knock you down next time, this then goes up the management chain and then to HR, where it is completely ignored. I used to do these for my team, but quite honestly I used the time to have a good old chat with them – sort of extended one-to-one. That way I learnt more about their fears and aspirations, and was able to form a good judgement on how they had performed. The critique was always constructive as destroying someone is usually counter productive.

Anyway to my sheer horror and surprise it went very well. In fact he was quite inspirational in his objectives and goal settings. He was very kind about my abilities and the work I have done in my new role (I wasn’t aware that I had done any!). But the biggest shock was when we discussed The Sandman, and I swear that word for word he said everything I have said.

About how ruthlessly ambitious The Sandman is.
About how The Sandman has no other life than work, even when on holiday
About how socially inept The Sandman is outside of work because he has nothing else to discuss!
About the general control freakery of The Sandman.
About the trail of destroyed people left in the wake of The Sandman as he climbs the greasy corporate pole.

At one point M actually said – “Why the fuck doesn’t The Sandman just do the fucking work himself!” It was great!

Now, the cynic in me says this could be a cunning ruse, in which the Grocer is encouraged to show himself and consequently incriminate himself and they can then show him the door! I will tread carefully, but this is a very encouraging sign.

I thought I’d add to my Desert Island List by listing 10 women I would also like to be stranded with. I have left out my wife and daughters because this is fantasy stuff, but it might give people another angle from which to judge me.

Island Women

Denise Van Outen – Essex girl, slightly saucy, who just gets me every time
Jennifer Aniston – need I say more?
Julia Sawalhia – Saffy in Ab-Fab
Natasha Kaplinsky - BBC morning presenter
Kate Winslet – a real woman with real shape
Penny Smith - GMTV news reader
Lisa Maffia – gorgeous R&B star
Kate Garraway - GMTV presenter and simply beautiful, my current number 1
Linda Barker – just seems genuinely nice
Catherine Zeta Jones – a bit of an egotist, but drop dead gorgeous


Later, Grocerjack

What did we expect?

So, US troops have been busy with the camera. It seems they have a strangely warped sense of what they think is funny as well. Having said that, this stuff has always gone during times of war, and will undoubtedly continue to do so, it’s just that we have so much more access to information and much easier methods of recording and distributing this stuff. We, the media receiving public are still so naïve on this type of thing.

The jury appears to be out on the British troops, although the Nanny Government seems to be doing their utmost to try and concoct some sort of smokescreen to ensure The Mirror is held up as being printing false information. Interestingly The Sun also seems to be pointing the finger at The Mirror (no surprise there then). However, according to the latest issue of Private Eye, this is massive turn around by The Sun, who but a few short weeks ago were warning of the imminent scandal regarding illicit photos. The Mirror got there first, and now The Sun seems intent on doing nothing but discrediting The Mirror and laying on the plaudits for our “brave boys”. I do not doubt their bravery, but if some have been stupid as well then this should also be exposed. If I can reproduce the article I will as it makes amusing reading and shows the tabs up for what they really are. The real war seems to be for circulation figures.

You may have guessed but I hate the tabloid press, especially The Liar (oops I mean The Sun). It is only surpassed in it’s hypocrisy by The Daily Fascist (sorry I mean The Daily Mail). I did admire Piers Morgan’s attempt to “lift the bar” with regards to The Mirror, but then the bloke just has a knack for doing something that completely undermines this, and the hypocrisy just keeps showing itself.

Anyway, the brutal filmed decapitation of Nick Berg was undoubtedly barbaric. No matter about what some idiot soldiers did to Iraqi prisoners, the execution of this non-military guy was completely uncalled for. I wonder how those US soldiers who meted out the abuse feel now?

However, did we really expect any other reaction from these Muslim fanatics? These are people who treat life like it’s an irritating wasp, there to be terminated on a whim. They don’t care for religion or God (who is also the Devil, two sides to the same person, as with us, whom “he” made in his likeness!) or for the circumstances of the people they execute. They do not have the capability to reason in a rational manner. They are uncivilised barbarian wankers who deserve whatever painful death is inflicted upon them. Not for them the right of justice. No courts or civilised fair hearings - just a painful, torturous death via Special Services. I seem to recall the old USSR method was to abduct, torture and kill, but with no publicity at all.

That’d be the best way, exact cold revenge, but without the oxygen of publicity. No film or photos. No mention in the news. Silence.

Later, Grocerjack

Leathery Skins……..

When we were in Spain last year, we entered a bar full of people celebrating that great British traditional night – St. Patrick’s night. For reasons that became obvious we christened this place “The Queen Vic”. Within this bar were around 40 people, wearing shamrock hats, smoking and drinking heavily, mostly with tanned, leathery skin, some with grey hair, most in their 40’s to 50’s, with a smattering of “youngsters” in their late 20’s and 30’s. The “youngsters” were all immaculately dressed, the geezers in smart trousers and Gucci shirts, the women in smart trouser suits, all displaying healthy amounts of gold. As soon as we set foot inside the place it suddenly resembled “The Slaughtered Lamb” – the pub immortalised in “An American Werewolf in London”. If they had been playing darts then the darts would have stopped in mid flight. The music should have stopped, but maybe to the inhabitants it did. We had been noticed as “not being from round these parts”. Everything carried on, we ordered our pints, but it was noticeable that several people were eyeballing us all the time. The rest were too pissed or high or stupid. Mostly too thick and stupid would be my guess.

We were desperately feeling uncomfortable, the barman/landlord had not been overly keen to serve us and made us wait behind several “regulars”. Did they think were coppers? Jesus, I’m 5’6, The Major is 5’7” – we ain’t tall enough to be coppers! The King is, but he was wearing an anorak with a hood (it was raining!), which is a pretty crap undercover outfit for a copper. As we drank our pints, we looked around and listened. Not an Irish accent to be heard! All you could hear was the sound of cockney/mockney mixed in with the odd Mancunian/Scouse or public school accent. As I looked around it dawned on me that every woman looked like a gangsters moll (bar one, who just looked downright…blokey), and every bloke looked like a city crook, a bank robber, a gang master, or a getaway driver. The amount that looked like Ronnie Knight was disturbing. Not one of them looked like they had made the money honestly.They all had that….aura. It was easy to imagine them all driving around in Jags or BMW’s with British plates. Two days later, when hunting for some Diesel, we drove through he ex-pat area (Albert Square but posher and hotter) and sure enough, the Jags, Mercs and BMW’s were there, all with British plates. You could almost imagine the inside of their villas, bedecked in habitat furniture, tiger skin rugs, bad taste statues, obligatory Rottweilers and shrines to Kenneth Noye above their mock marble fireplaces.

I never actually heard this, but you can imagine it being said…..

“Good ole Kenny, what a stitch up the Old Bill did on him – a right fit up. So he killed that kid, well he was probably a gobby little bastard anyway – and as for the copper he stabbed 11 times in self defence – well he was in Kenny’s garden weren’t he! How could Kenny have known. Christ no man deserves a stretch for that…..”

A very disturbing place, and one we were happy to vacate after completion of pints. This year we though we would take our 4th member (TonicMan) to see it, but it had changed into a respectable little bistro, presumably after Inspector Knacker had found the owner and got him deported. Anyway we descended on a “techno-bar”, decorated in mirrors, stainless steel and glass, with a few large plastic plants dotted around, as it sounded and looked a little livelier. Lo and behold, this was now the new Queen Vic! Everyone knew each other, the dress was more casual, the skin still tanned and leathery, but the “landlord” was a real bruiser, a little like the villain in “Snatch”. His wife, a big brassy blonde. Her sister, the also blonde singer, trotting out banal tunes to a backing tape. The singer’s sexy siren daughter (maybe 18 if lucky) hanging around the bar, with a silent shotgun waiting from the landlord for anyone with the temerity to talk to her without his permission. The landlady and singers “good ole mum”, sitting their merrily drinking and smoking. Whenever anyone walked in, they were greeted warmly by the landlord/landlady, they kissed the singer at an appropriate pause. This was not extended to us, but we were not made to feel awkward this year, just…….irrelevant.

Irrelevant is good, awkward is bad.

I doubt any of them could speak one word of Spanish other than the normal “por favor” or “gracias” stock phrases. Integration to the community is not on the agenda, as it would appear that the community is now British. I bet most of them still fly back to use the NHS when required, and maybe even draw the dole money into a UK account, to bolster their already substantial bank accounts. After all it’s their entitlement innit!

It would be my idea of hell, living in a foreign country, but not actually knowing it, never meeting the local people or mixing with them, not partaking in their culture, history, politics, and traditions.

Still reading The Sun to catch up on the true stories about good ole blighty!

Later, Grocerjack

And I thought Malaga was a hell hole………….

So back to work then. Nothing has changed. M is mysteriously posting on all the discussion forums at work. Perhaps he’s as busy as me then? The Sandman is away on business, as is my successor. In fact my successor is in the US on a business trip (some sort of training and seminar). I’m not bitter, but why the fuck was my travel on business limited to Warrington or Edinburgh. I was once allowed to go to Düsseldorf, but Jesus what a performance that was to get authorised. It seems to be that its junkets for the boy’s culture at work nowadays.

Fuck it, yes I am bitter. I am bored fucking shitless and I’ve been back less than one day. I could do this job with my hands behind my back and my feet tied together. Time to update the CV and start hunting around methinks.

Work is the new Malaga airport!

Here’s a little bit of the latest corporate gobbledygook bollocks talk posted at work.

“Within this exciting and vibrant company we have a lot of exciting things happening, not the least of which is the development of a new business plan for the next three years. It is clear that we are not on the safest road with respect to our business in the UK, and we are struggling to enhance our margins, therefore we must continue to leverage cost savings, develop synergistic global partnerships, provide better and more revenue generating value add services and develop better customer satisfaction. So we are very busily working on this as part of our night jobs. What could it mean to us in our area? It could mean lots of things, it is still too early to tell, but it seems so far to be a logical extension of what we have already started: reduction of management layers, simplification initiatives, right sourcing, outsourcing, in-sourcing, right sizing. On the outsourcing point it looks like we have a business case for the outsourcing of one of our support departments. We understand there are still many questions about implementation details, which can not be answered but have to be developed in conjunction with the individuals that know this area best. Still it was thought to be a better idea to be upfront about it than do a deal and spring it on those in the targeted support area. We have an outline of a business case which needs lots of work for the in-sourcing of project management across a broad range of groups and in-sourcing of marketing optimisation, although still not final. Anyway, the upshot of all of this is we have started to define and discuss lots of very sensible but ambitious objectives to drive the arrowhead of the organisation forward through the regulatory and competitive constraints under which we now find ourselves having to co-exist within”

Answers on a postcard please.

I lost interest in the Iraq photo scandal whilst I was away. It seemed to me a slow news week and the press and media were desperate to latch onto something and blow it out of proportion. We only had access to CNN, which should be renamed ANN (American News Network). It was the most dull and yank biased crap you could possibly have. I thought Sky News was bad at the dull press conference, whereby dull people stand in front of the press and fail to answer one single question, but CNN were….excruciatingly dull. Do they really think people are that interested? Does anybody actually sit and watch all of this? Her’s an idea, let the press conference happen, then just show any bits that provide insight or facts. It’s called editing!

As for the photos, well as I have said before, if true then it is wrong, although the “hooding” issue is trivial in my view. It seems to me that killing during a war is fine and heroic, but putting a few POW’s into a hood, thus protecting their identity, and also disorientating them to perhaps frighten them into giving information is not that horrendous. Do we really have to guess what they would have done to our troops in that situation? Mild mental abuse via using a hood is bad, but death is fine….hmmmmm. Weird priorities there then! What are we suppose to do? Treat them like gentlemen? Thank them for what they were trying to do? Get real. If we seriously believe this sort of stuff is not going on then we need to wake up and smell the coffee. I am not condoning it, and rules should be followed, but lets get it into perspective. Perhaps a few Kuwaiti men and women might like to comment on the “humanity” shown to them by the Iraqi soldiers in the first Gulf War.

My thanks to British Airways Engineering for the “helpful” comments on the aircraft cabin window!

Later, Grocerjack

Daylight robbery.....

Well, I'm back and finally back in the normal groove. So, the holiday was excellent and started well. The passage through good old Gatwick was as smooth as it could be , instant check in, bags labeled and sent through by friendly smiling girl, security negotiated, even though I was pulled aside. Apparently golf balls aren't clear through the x-ray machine! Anyway from check-in to airside bar - 15 minutes.

At this point I could see the strap line for the next Carlsberg ad

"Carlsberg don't make airports...but if they did...."

Anyway, we had a couple of pints to kill the time, and like typical boys sat there watching the planes land and take off, each taking it in turns to tell flying stories or produce some inane plane trivia. The plane took off OK and bang on time. Superb - like a lot of people I am always slightly nervous during a flight. I know the theory, love the sensation of taking off, and of landing (it's the sheer power that does me), but I'm not the driver, and this makes me edgy. I don't doubt for one minute that the bloke or bird flying the plane wants to get there in one piece, but I can't get totally rid of the thought that there is 34,000 feet of sod all below me, and there is a huge lump of solid rock to.....erm break the fall! Anyway, slightly bumpy landing also on time was then succeeded by the sheer hell of Malaga airport. A plane load of 320 people, 1 person on passport control = 30 minutes queuing to get through that bit. But that was nothing! To tighten the genital bolts a bit more we then waited by the baggage belt for 90 minutes before any bags came off. 90 fucking minutes, in a steamy hot airport and not one person went and complained. Very British and very daft. Apparently the day before had been a public holiday, although why that should have any bearing is a mystery to me. Lazy bastard baggage handlers is more likely the cause.

Eventually we were transported to the car hire place, but by this time the heavens had opened big time. Apparently the Costa Del Sol was hit by a mini-tornado, and I can honestly say I've never experienced wind and rain like it. Far worse then even the great storm of 1987 in the UK. That night time journey to the hotel was quite challenging. It didn't bode well.

Next day, cloud and sun, no rain, not a drop, and a medium breeze. I got burnt on my scalp, and my bottom lip (not because it was out through sulking either!). Just a combination of sun, wind and stupidity of not using any sun screen!

The rest of the week was lovely, in all aspects but especially the weather. Even the sting of Chelsea snatching defeat from the jaws of victory was bearable (in fact I expected it). And Fuckwit couldn't be blamed, the players simply bottled it. Although an inspirational coach may have been able to inject passion and belief into them for the second half even though they conceded a cheap (and cheating) goal just before half time.

I drunk a lot on holiday, mainly G&T as Guinness was only available in one bar, and that was really only suitable for watching footie. Lots of G&T. Very refreshing, and at 3 Euros for a huge measure, bloody good value. Hangovers were in abundance, but the cure.....a huge breakfast of fresh fruit, followed by a full English with toast and tea and fruit juice, followed by golf. Five holes into each game and the hangover was history. Worked every single time.(note to self, remember this you idiot!). Thanks to La Cala resort for the best breakfast anywhere! A great hotel, highly recommended.

As for the golf, well we had 7 games in 7 days and they went like this for me - indifferent, good, better, even better, indifferent, poor, complete and utter shite.

We also found a new Queen Vic full of leathery skinned ex-getaway drivers, with shrines to Kenny Noye in the front rooms! More on that later.

And the daylight robbery? The fucking airlines. These are now the biggest bunch of bandits and highwaymen in the world today. They are fucking thieves, and there is nothing you can do about it. Was it the 75p for the thimble sized can of Diet Pepsi? No! Was it the unexplained hour delay to flight? No! Was it the fact that we were charged as a group 130 Euros for excess baggage on the way home, even though we had the same gear? Yes! On the way out Monarch Airlines (hang your heads in shame)accepted our cases and golf bags with no charge. On the way home though, they then told us we would be charged for the extra weight? Why? No explanation - just company policy. If you don't pay then your stuff doesn't get on. No choice then but to pay up. But get this - we allegedly had 31kgs of excess, but they only charged us for 20! Another group of golfers had 34kgs of excess, but they also were only charged for 20! And Monarch implied this was a favour! You can imagine the way I felt and a few choice words were said. I will write and complain because of the illogicality of it. Especially as it is merely the same plane we flew out on. We, the flying public are over the airlines barrel.

Oh, and one more thing. I was in seat 17A, next to the window. On landing I noticed a slight vibration nearby. I touched the window and it moved! So far out it actually touched the outer window. It was 75% not attached to the "window frame"! I am no aviation expert but surely the inner window seal plays an important role in the structural integrity of the fuselage. Does anyone know if this is trivial or potentially dangerous? Please let me know because had I discovered it during the flight then I would been white knuckled all the way. I did tell Monarch, who impassively noted it down on some sort of engineering sheet.

Thats it for now

Later, Grocerjack

The Lunatics are in my hall......

So,you've been busy while I've been away! Well, I will try and respond accordingly. DC does not mind the blog, and did NOT leave the last comment! In fact DC has not left any comments!

Listen carefully, I will say this only once

Happily Comfortably Numb (HCN seems easier!) is a friend, a very close friend if I'm right. One of those unconditional friends who is always there for me, as I would be for them. These people are rare indeed and they have every right to comment on my musings. I don't expect people to like or dislike, agree or disagree with my stuff and am happy for criticism, because at the end of the day I couldn't give a shit. I write this because I enjoy it, not because it pleases others. I trust HCN would not reveal any personal stuff about me, as I wouldn't about them. For that reason, there will be no addition to the cast list for the time being.

I respect everyones privacy which is why no actual names are ever published. I don't know Crunchy, The Scarey, Anonymous or the impostor DC who left the last comment, but I will continue to write and either please them,or displease them. It's their choice and their right to form their own views. If I think the comments are likely to compromise anyones real identity then that option will be removed. If the whole thing becomes too dangerous then the blog simply stops and re-appears as something different.

Anyway, the weather was gorgeous unlike the forecast, the golf was good sometimes, indifferent other times, downright shite yesterday. The airline robbed me blind again, of which more in another post. I am recharged, rejuvenated and relaxed. Back to the grindstone.

Later, Grocerjack

An Interlude.......

Final packing is almost complete. just the toothbrush and shaver to go in. Clubs are clean, shoes are new and passport is ready. I will be back on the 10th, but realisitcally probably won't be posting until the 11th. Anyway DC is happy with this, and sees it in its intended spirit. Her first comments were all based on me finding time to do this, but not tell her the things I post here. Then she read it and realised the things I post are the things we talk about. Anyway, all is well so postings will continue.

I see that our soldiers have also been a bit handy with the camera! I won't apologise for what I said about the yanks, but I will eat a slice from the Humble Pie lorry which has just pulled up. It would seem our guys can be just as fucking stupid as anyone else. Having said that, when you measure the "photo" crimes against what the Iraqi's did to our soldiers during the first Gulf War, or to the Kuwaiti's then it is a fairly minor indiscretion.

The boys gave Southampton a hiding yesterday by 4-0. Apparently Teenager's "boyfriend" Mini-Me is a Southampton fan. And he told Teenager that they would brush us aside. She went to a disco (police run) last night, so we printed a picture of Frank Lampard, who scored 2 of the goals, so she could walk up to Mini-Me, discreetly hand him the picture and say

"Here Mini-Me, have you seen this bloke. What d'ya reckon? I've heard he's a pretty handy player!". Apparently he was not very amused, but all of his friends were. That's my girl!

Oh , just one gripe. The weather forecast for here this weekend was

Rain
More rain
Thunder
Heavy rain
Wind


This is what we got

No rain
Absolutely no rain
Light cloud
glorious sunshine
20 degrees

So it is really just a stab in the dark sometimes from the Met Office.

Not much else to say, too excited now

Later, Grocerjack

All is well...

I may post tomorrow before I leave. It depends on how time is running. DC has calmed down about the blog. In fact, she seems impressed. I think she got the wrong end of the stick last night and thought it was a seedy web site, which I hope it isn't! Anyway, final packing is under way......

Maybe Later, Grocerjack

Collapsed...

She's not happy! I may have lost. Bad move, I can't blame her really.

Will write again, when I can, DC has stormed off.

Never be creative!

Later, Grocerjack

Its out

DC knows about this! Not happy, but not pissed off either. Will write b4 I go, or after...tell the truth she didnt get it!

Later , Grocerjack