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

New Year

There’s been a lot of sick people about the office, with colds and flu about. I’ve had two weeks off with a nasty dose. When I got back in at the start of this week Junior had got a cold, which he said had been bad for a few weeks, but he’d managed to drag himself in. On Monday it had got a bit much for him and he went to his doctors, who gave him antibiotics. With New Year approaching I said to him:

Me: “What? You can’t drink any alcohol over New Year then?”
Junior: “I can
can’t I? I asked the doctor if there was anything I had to be
careful about,…could I still drive? and so on.”
Me: “Yes, you can still drink
with antibiotics. I had you going for a while though.”

The boss is temporarily sitting near us this week:

Boss: “Can’t wait for the Hogmanay Show tonight.”
Junior: “’ You stopping in
then?”
Boss: “You have to at my age…Which member of staff are you seeing
tonight?”

Cold Start

The boss comes in this morning and comments on the cold weather:

Boss: “We need it though.”
Me: “Why do we need it?”
Boss: “To kill all the
rats…You know they say that you’re never more than six feet away from a
rat.”

(We look around, we’re on the fourth floor, we give Junior a second look - he has a rat type face)

Boss: “There’s been a big increase in the rat population recently. They have to
keep eating to maintain their body fat, or else they die.”

He certainly knows a lot about rats. He goes on to tell us about the rat problem at his previous house which he found out was due to his neighbour feeding them.

Me: “So why aren’t there so many birds around this year?”
Boss: “Don’t know.
Do you know why?”
Me: “No.”
Boss: “I thought you were trying to catch me
out…I’ll certainly find out for you though.”
Me: “weren’t there fewer bees
about this year as well?”
Boss: “Bees?”
Me: “Yes bees.”
Boss: “I don’t
know.”
Me: “I’d heard that if the bees die off, then it’s only two years
before man becomes extinct.”
Boss: “That’s not something Dave told you is
it?”
Me: “No, that was a proper expert on the TV.”

Pep talk

With loads of people off sick, or with time off to do their Christmas shopping, we are struggling with the amount of work that has come in. junior decided to mention this to the boss:

Boss: “You’ll have to do a Churchill style speech,…rally the troops.”
(He saunters over to Andy’s desk)
Boss: “Come on Andy pull your finger
out!”

What? No bacon!

Yesterday we all had egg on toast or just toast because the canteen would not sell sausage or bacon following the Irish pork health-scare. we got sent this e-mail just before we were going down for breakfast. Today they had some bacon, but no sausage again:

MEAT RECALL
The Food Standards Authority of Ireland (FSAI) is requiring
the food industry to recall from the market all Irish pork and pork products
produced from pigs in Ireland.
This recall has been called following FSAI
test results indicating the presence of dioxins in animal feed and pork fat.
Dioxins are chemical contaminants and although there are natural sources of
dioxins, dioxins are usually formed as by-products of industrial combustion and
chemical process
The FSAI are currently investigating the extent of
contamination but have indicated that the risk to consumer health is "extremely
low". However, it is illegal for dioxins to be present in foodstuffs and
therefore the recall has been issued.
This means that there will be no bacon,
sausage, ham or pork based products being sold in the Restaurant until further
notice.

We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause

It's shit up North

Dan had read this, that people's hands are dirtier the further north they live.

Dan (reading): "The further north they went, the more often they found commuters with
faecal bacteria on their hands - men in Newcastle were the worst
offenders."

Eric: "So does that mean if we are around half way that we're only 50% as dirty?...Do you think it's the hand that we wipe our arse with that gets dirty then?"