So, there I am travelling home through the night-time traffic on the A34, listening to whatever was being discussed on the radio. The phone rings and its The Shepherd's secretary asking if I can deputise for The Shepherd at a "Communicating Change Workshop pre-meeting". I had carefully planned a sickie or a "wfh" (work from home) day for today in order to ring The King and get a game of golf in.
Plan ruined as the tone of the call indicated that it wasn't a request as such, but a directive. For this is the way of The Shepherd and it's becoming fairly obviously that his style is autocratic. It's also obvious that he listens to your views, decides his are better and does what he wanted in the first place. So at last I am understanding the traits of this new Nemesis. And of course, "know thine enemy" is a classic maxim used by all engaged in battle in order to get the upper hand and defeat their enemy.
Hmmm......"enemy"...."nemesis"....."battle"........seems like an obsession might be coming my way. Is this really what my working life is becoming? A tirade against hierarchy triggered by insularity and bitter jealousy? Is paranoia fever starting to pervade my thoughts.
The evidence is unclear but then today I attend this meeting with others at The Shepherds level. I dress down because it's ....well...Children in Need day...a pisspoor excuse for trash entertainment and acts of folly in order to apply charity guilt to normal people through the twisted mask of the faux clown. (another subject ....), but also just to fuck these knobhead club tie/firm handshake twats right off. My best "worn" jeans, my trendy reebok trainers and one of my Chelsea Polo's not tucked in.
It definitely got me noticed as they turned up in their Alan Partridge sports casual ranges making unfunny sarcastic comments about "Chelski" supporters (Listen you fucking ignorant cunts....Russian tends to end in ....kov.....so it should be Chelskov if you want to take the piss...). I of course laugh at these airheaded corporate mannequins because I am still infected with Hypocrite-itis. . That is my cross and I'll carry it until "my head explodes with dark forebodings too" and end up on some kind of serial manslaughter charge for decapitating some people who belong in Golgafrincham. Either that or I'll get honoured by a grateful society looking for a solution to ridding society of these useless pieces of semi-human detritus. And guess what? The meeting was actually to discuss a course that all line managers will be going on that helps us deliver bad news or "difficult messages" as they put it, in a positive manner. That's right. I'll be able to devastate peoples lives and make their world cave in, but at the same time sell them the benefits of this and help them through the "transition cycle" of denial through to acceptance at the same time!
I can hardly believe my good fortune (sic). So, here I am, someone who could be the first, albeit reluctant citizen of Golgafrincham, desperately trying to batter his way out, but continually being chased back in by a giant inflatable ball ....just like Number 6.....being trained to deliver a potential knife to someone's heart, through a velvet scabbard and with a smile on my face. Killer and Curer in one easy package.
And for all I know someone is waiting to do the same to me.
Delegated dirty work some might call it.
Being given the shit stick is my view.
(Keanu Reeves pic? I just needed to show a picture of a wanker to illustrate how I feel about The Shepherd)
Later, GrocerJack
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