No Overtime

For the past few weeks we have been snowed under with work. To this end Junior was asking round on Thursday if anyone would be prepared to come in to work on the Sunday. There was only Andy who reluctantly said he would do it. Junior asked his boss if he could allow them to work for time in-lieu, telling us that if we worked for four hours on Sunday we would get eight hours off another time. Sadly the boss turned him down for double time in-lieu and nobody was going to come in for a few hours on Sunday. Discussing this between ourselves we decided that he hadn’t done us any favours giving everyone rotten End of Year Reviews, and wasting time that we could have been catching up on ridiculous meet-and-greet meetings in Nottingham (which only lasted an hour before we had to drive all the way back and waste the whole day).
This week also he has lumbered Chris with some new tasks, such as helping out with Team Brief, and making Chris our lead contact for anyone unsure about where they should go for certain types of work. We were telling him that he should get Chris a badge saying “Hi I’m Chris, how may I help you?”

Junior Smells 3

So before Junior came in this morning me and Becky had been discussing what we should tell Junior he smelt like today:

Becky: “Did you hear what his excuse was for smelling that way
yesterday?”
Me: “No.”
Becky: “He said that most mornings he sprays himself
with RightGuard, then a nicer smelling deodorant. Then he sprays his clothes
with it too.”
Me: “He sprays his shirt with deodorant? That’s odd.”
Becky: “But yesterday he forgot to spray his shirt…I think.”

When Junior eventually swans in after 9.30, of course everyone else is busy working away, and nobody says anything to him. We’re all pissed off at him doing half a days work, then trying to get more work out of them. They’re also pissed off because he’s done everyone’s End of Year reviews and graded us all equally as badly, saying that we’re all still developing in their role. They’ve actually been busy covering for everyone who’s been off sick, on holiday, or moved to different sections. Rant over. He dumps his coat and bag at his desk then goes over to Becky:

Junior: “Becks, will you do me a favour?”
Becky: “What is it?”
(He lifts
up his armpit)
Junior: “Would you give me a good sniff for chlorine?”

She gives him a little smile to give him the impression that he is the King of Comedy.

Junior Smells 2

Becky had been making some funny faces. Junior had been near her showing her how to do some stuff on her computer. Eventually in the quiet part of the afternoon she spoke out:

Becky: “What brand of washing powder do you use?”

Junior grins, as if he’s been waiting for something to relieve the boredom of the afternoon, and a question like this, out of the blue, was going to lead to something.

Me: “He lives with his parents, I doubt if he actually does his own
laundry.”
Junior: “Why do you ask?”
Becky: “I can smell something?”
Me:
“I can’t really smell anything much, I’m still bunged-up from my
cold.”
Junior: “What like?”
Becky: “Kind of a Chlorine sort of
smell”
Junior: “Is it a good smell or a bad smell?”
Becky: “It’s not a
shit smell…it’s a clean smell.”
Junior: “Where do you think it’s coming
from?”
Becky: “You!”
Junior: “You’re saying I smell? When do you smell
it?”
Becky: “When you stand near me. You’ve been standing near me earlier on.
It just seems to be when you’re close…”
Junior stands up and has a sniff
about.
Becky: “Like now…I got another waft of it then.”
Me: “Maybe it’s
his deodorant? What kind of aftershave have you got on today?”
Junior:
“Beckham.” (he says with a smile as if it’s great to spray himself with a scent
designed by a footballer rather than a perfumier)
Becky: “Naahh! That’s not
it…Beckham doesn’t smell like that.”
Me: “Ahh! It depends where he bought it
from. Maybe he bought it off the market. He could be wearing fake Beckham, which
could be watered down bleach, or anything.”
Junior: “It’s not.” (changing his
expression)
Needing some kind of closure on the matter he gets up and wafts
his shirt sleeve under my nose.
Me: “There is a weird smell…it’s like
aniseed.”
Chris: “Yeah!”
Me: “Does your mom put anything on your shirts
when she irons?”
Junior: “Maybe it’s my sweat reacting with something in the
shirt?”

The discussion comes to a close. I leave it a few minutes before I carry on:

Me: “In the bank on Saturday morning there was an old geezer that smelt of piss,
and we were about six feet away from him. It would be terrible if you got any
closer to him. Not a faint whiff of dry piss or anything like that, he smelt as
if he was covered in fresh urine.”
Becky: “That’s horrible.”
Me: “He was
an old bloke with white hair, one of those who’s facial hair grows virtually all
the way up to his eye sockets, stubble up to his eyes, and big
sideburns.”
Becky: “You hear that?…” (she shouts towards Junior) “You could
smell worse…You could smell of piss!”

I imagine he’ll have a shower before he comes in to work tomorrow. I’m going to sniff him to see if he’s changed his scent.

U Pillock

Sue came down the office to ask for some help. She had a print-out with a user ID (based on the initials of the first name of the user, followed by 4 numbers) on it, but didn't know who it was from:

Sue: "Do you know how to get on that part of the portal which lets you
search for people's user IDs?"
Junior: "Yes..." (clicking on his screen) "...who are you trying to
trace?"
Sue: "This number on the bottom here...U3491."
Junior: "That's easy, that'll be..."
Me: "Go on then! Think of a name that begins with a U!"

(Thinks for a while)

Junior: "...er...Uppal?"
Me: "That's Ghurmak's surname."
Becky: "Ursula!"
Junior: "I was going to say that."
Me: "Do you know of an Ursula that works for the company?"
Once he'd typed it onto the screen it came back with no results for that
name.
Me: "It's probably a temporary user ID that IT must use for things. I'd try
them."
Becky: "Onslow, like the bloke off "Keeping up
Appearances"."
Sue: "That begins with an O."

Later the best name we could come up with was Ullyses