So I go back to work after an extended Bank holiday and am late as usual, just five minutes, but still try to sneak in undetected. I pick up my mug and head for the canteen because they wont get any work out of me before I brew up! My manager sees me trying to blend into the background and I try not catch his eye.
"Chopski" he bellows, I look up and feign surprise.
"Boss" I reply sheepishly.
Fuck thinks I, what have I done this time? Trying to wrack my brain for some misdemeanour I may have committed and can't think of one!
A smart arse quips as I slink by "Can I have your locker?" anticipating my fate. I flick him playfully in the groinal area with my tea-spoon and leave him doubled up in agony as I enter the office.
"The mentoring post." he says without looking at me parking himself behind his desk.
Thank fuck I think to myself as I'm not in trouble. The mentoring post is something I showed interest in about a month ago and involves training new starters and pays an extra £30 a week. As we don't have that many new starters I guessed it would be money for old rope, (thinking about it I have loads of old rope in the shed that no-ones given me any money for), I digress.
"Four other people have applied." he says still not looking at me, reeling off their names and turning on his PC.
In the old days the most senior person to apply would have got the job but now, oh no! Now they were 'thinking out of the box' being 'radical' and 'forward thinking' (I've no idea what any of this means but it was all written in six inch red pen on a white board above his head. It also said 'I love cock' and 'yes please for cheese!' but that was in different handwriting and probably not applicable at this time.) Now the policy was to give jobs to the people most qualified to do them, man, that was 'left of centre'?!!?
I tried to feign interest
"When's the interview" I ask.
"No interview!" he replies "You fill in a multiple choice question thingy and a computer decides the best person for the job!"
"Psychometric testing?" says I trying to look like I know what I'm talking about but actually reading upside down from a post it on his desk.
"Might be." he says and now looking at me like I'm really switched on.
"Oh yes!" I say on a roll! "We've had psychometric testing since we moved away from psycho-imeprial testing in the early seventies!"
He looks impressed then shoos me out the office.
I take my mug upstairs and make a cup of tea and start thinking. Of those four other people who applied for the post, two guys are OK and I wouldn't mind if they got the job over me but, the other two are cunts and if they got the job I'd never live it down. One was on day release from Marwell while the monkey cage was being cleaned and he never returned. The other tried to convince us he was from a long line of bakers, but we were sure he meant he was inbred!
Shit! I'm going to have to give this a lot of thought.
No time for more now coz its Big Brother!!