Sense of humour failure

Of course I was joking... I don't really believe violence has a place in the well trained management consultant's problem solving tool kit.

But ...

I still don't understand why I can't strangle the work-shy, the stupid, the deceitful and the rude, and particularly the stupidly deceitful rude work-shy.

Loreen Lie-A-Lot got on my wrong side within hours of joining when she called me Luv as in "Alright Luv". It is an expression that sets my teeth on edge any time but most particularly and acutely when dripping from the lips of some diminutive blonde poppet who isn't yet old enough to sell alcohol (legally). This by the way is a round about way of saying that she's not yet 18 years old.

Within a couple of days she'd learned to chirrup "Can I get off, please". Because when she's not working a checkout lane she's at liberty to drift about the store looking distinctly ornamental and being distinctly nonfunctional. Sadly, though, we're actually paying her to accomplish things and not just look gorgeous.

Then the dramas started: A drunk father, an uncaring mother, a delinquent brother, a violent boyfriend, no money, perilous journey. She's one of those frightfully boring people who simply cannot just turn up for work and get cracking; there's always got to be some little catastrophe to make her a focus of our however so reluctantly it may be given attention.

Sympathy would have been readier had she actually showed any grasp of our expectations of her. She has the knack of looking deeply wounded whenever she's taken to task, however gently. Such is the magnificent resolution of the spine of the collective management that we've given up all hope of getting a return on our investment in the form of training and assigned her to the smellies, which means she gets to play with the deodorants and the fragranced* bath products to her heart's content.

There are some disadvantages to this strategy; not the least of these is the isolation of that section (with the attendant difficulties any manager has in monitoring her work output). But on the other hand all the boys work elsewhere so there's some chance we might still get some work out of them.

I'd suspended judgement but on Tuesday night, after learning that she's had her tea-break privilege withdrawn for epic slacking, I had to witness her piss off one of our customers and then have her lie to me, that customer, the customers behind her in the queue and two other colleagues.

Right now she's speed dating her way through all the unattached male members of staff (hopefully keeping her claws out of the attached ones, though I wouldn't put a spot of marriage-wrecking past her). She's dazzled the warehouse manager and now sold him a sob story about how her violent ex is planning to "kick his head in". Such is the wattage of her lustre she can have two swains prepared down animosities and share the duty of protecting her from each and every buffeting breeze.

What is troubling thought is that she's quite prepared to ride roughshod over anyone she's decided isn't worthy of her notice, and what's terrifying is the accuracy of her instinct in this respect. So I'm OK, for the moment, and all men are obviously potentially useful, but there isn't a single woman outside the small circle of managers and supervisors who gets a civil word of acknowledgementfrom her.

This little minx is going to ruin a lot of lives before she's finished. Don't say you weren't warned.

* that's how we speak in retail. Cute isn't it?