Welcome to Kindergarten

Boring post alert: this is a protracted moan about work related things.

After an evening shift that lasted an hour longer than planned, over-eating and drinking more than one glass of wine I was up by 5:00 this morning for the early shift. This might sound horrendous, but I'd been able to put myself ahead of the game, doing in advance as much as possible of the stuff I'd have to do. In fact I quite like following my evening with the early. Tomorrow morning I'll be following the Novice, and I'm already feeling a wee bit anxious.

An early shift isn't without drawbacks, such as being, well, Early, as opposed to Late and providing for a morning nap.

Also at this time of year it is still rather dark at the time I'm having to walk up the path to the road. This is the time of year when the garden is full of the sort of spider that enjoys slinging its web across great distances, the better to catch moths, other flying insects and half awake human beings.

Bastards.

Yoda was outside strutting her stuff, took one look at me and fled inside. Right ho.

Bolshie Book Worm was in yesterday evening and we had a brief conversation about the state of play. I mentioned my suspicion that something had been said to Yoda, despite my request that nothing of the sort happen. My grounds for making the request: she's got a malevolent streak and she's in a position that makes it all too easy to make the life of pretty much any member of staff from the GM down thoroughly miserable.

She conceded the possibility but denied all knowledge; something similar to that which I suspect happened to me has happened in recent weeks to someone else. The person concerned had a conversation with BBW: the gist of which seems to have been a problem with Yoda. This person asked that their privacy to be respected and their name withheld when BBW consulted The Handmaiden. The Handmaiden, knowing that BBW wanted the matter handled discretely and without involving the Big Swinging Dick, nevertheless went directly to our Lothario in chief.

BB is actively (so she says) looking for another job on the grounds that she'd left one playschool to join us and she wouldn't hang around much longer if we don't raise our game. According to her the Handmaiden actively seeks out Yoda's faults and failings and her errors of omission and commission and takes them straight to the Big Swinging Dick. This amounts to persecution and harassment Yoda might well have a case for constructive dismissal if she's got proof of what's going on.

Senior Frustrated Novelist has an assessment centre next weekend and brightens up no end at the very mention of her potential next job. It is a proper job, with an annual salary, fixed schedule and a package of benefits that increase in scope and value with tenure and promotion. A proper job with a proper employer.

I'm left with the prospect of struggling to explain to the Paper Shuffler in Chief, breaking the news to her as gently as I know how, that actually I don't particularly care for my job and that I'm open to alternative offers that I can conceivably make work (hours, child care etc), and that I absolutely loathe being stuck in a dark room rather than out on the floor making things happen at the sharp end of the business. The shop floor is alien and terrifying terrain to her, and aspirations in that direction are unfathomable.

Heavy sigh.

So at 6:00 I arrived at the door and Yoda fled at the sight of me. Funnily enough I take more care over my appearance for a morning shift than I do for an evening shift having become stuck in the slobbing about at home groove in the morning, I guess. Bit odd really, but then she is odd when she isn't being downright vile.

I got through, went upstairs, left my stuff in my locker, made myself some hot chocolate and then went back down. Halfway down I passed Yoda, hands to her face. Did I get 'good morning'. Did I hell.

"Oh, I feel so unwell, I've got to go toilet (sic)", she cried as she passed me at quite a pace. About 15 minutes later she reappeared downstairs ready to share with me the number of times she's 'been toilet' and vomited since 2 in the morning and since she came in.

She left me to open up ahead of the arrival of the Big Swinging Dick and she-who-mops-his-fevered-brow.

Now the Big Man's been in a foul mood since he returned from holiday. There had been some signs towards the end of last week that the 'mood' was lifting after a week spent by him getting things back in shape. This week things have slipped again. The great and the good are coming in for an inspection and the entire place is a disaster area, mostly due to the deficiencies he's recruited and trained. And he's on a two day course for the day before and the actual day of the visit. Things are slipping out of his control and he knows it and he doesn't like it.

He's responded by throwing his weight about in a way that is utterly pointless. The day after the visit the energy levels will plummet and we'll execute a collective slump back into our usual lazy ways.

The plain and simple truth is that those in a position to train and manage don't do any such thing, staff are never taught properly or corrected when they adopt bad practices - until crunch time such as the impending visit. Management by crisis.

The saddest thing is that this will all blow over. The visit probably won't actually happen (wouldn't be the first time) and even if it does, what ever worst it is he's envisaging won't come to pass (does he fear losing his job? not a chance).

The Maltese Terrier's speculating that part of the problem is that he's carting his domestic problems into the store; she's told him to leave his wife and he's told her quite poignantly that he 'doesn't want to be alone'.

On mornings like this one, when he and the Handmaiden were throwing metaphorical teacups at each other in the stress of the situation, I wish they'd leave me alone, or that I could get out of the office and do something constructive.