(If this seems abandoned in parts it is because I am on my lunch hour at work and may have to close the window from prying eyes...)
Oh, where do I begin? Perhaps with some background... Yesterday I was ill. The day before that, whilst executing my job, I was also ill, but soldiered on throughout the day only briefly mentioning to one of the director's that as I was feeling under the weather I might not make it in on the Thursday. Needless to say I did not make it in on the Thursday. Today when I got to work, I was greeted by my line manager with an icy 'Morning.' Nothing unusual there. Maybe it was a tad frostier than normal, but nothing out of the ordinary. Another of the director's walked in and greeted me with the same expression, but with a lot more warmth - just enough to defrost my extremities from the earlier assault. Neither of them asked me how they were feeling. I have witnessed them asking more-or-less EVERYBODY else in the building how they were feeling up to a few days after they came back from being off work ill, but not on this occasion. Bitter? Maybe.
So, as I was still feeling a little worse for wear, I decided to do a little shredding to ease myself back into the working day. Previous experience has shown me that putting large amounts of paper into shredders can be hazardous to both oneself and the machine as:
1. The shredder can and DOES bite
2. People around the building have difficulty understanding the instructions 'Do not place metal, thick plastic or screwed-up paper in this recycle bin' and often place metal, thick plastic and screwed-up paper in the recycle bins
3. Shredders DO break if one is too generous with one's Shredder Fodder Input (tech.)
Needless to say, when there were only the two of us left in the office, the original director scoldingly remarked, 'If you're not that busy that you can feed paper into the shredder one sheet at a time can you go out into the warehouse and help Dave?' She was clearly suffering from Management Syndrome, had decided that I was time-wasting and needed to belittle and insult in order to elevate herself (despite there not being anyone around). 'Certainly,' I replied and spent the next three hours as an Accounts and Administration Assistant packing motorcycle parts into boxes and sending them out.
Oh, where do I begin? Perhaps with some background... Yesterday I was ill. The day before that, whilst executing my job, I was also ill, but soldiered on throughout the day only briefly mentioning to one of the director's that as I was feeling under the weather I might not make it in on the Thursday. Needless to say I did not make it in on the Thursday. Today when I got to work, I was greeted by my line manager with an icy 'Morning.' Nothing unusual there. Maybe it was a tad frostier than normal, but nothing out of the ordinary. Another of the director's walked in and greeted me with the same expression, but with a lot more warmth - just enough to defrost my extremities from the earlier assault. Neither of them asked me how they were feeling. I have witnessed them asking more-or-less EVERYBODY else in the building how they were feeling up to a few days after they came back from being off work ill, but not on this occasion. Bitter? Maybe.
So, as I was still feeling a little worse for wear, I decided to do a little shredding to ease myself back into the working day. Previous experience has shown me that putting large amounts of paper into shredders can be hazardous to both oneself and the machine as:
1. The shredder can and DOES bite
2. People around the building have difficulty understanding the instructions 'Do not place metal, thick plastic or screwed-up paper in this recycle bin' and often place metal, thick plastic and screwed-up paper in the recycle bins
3. Shredders DO break if one is too generous with one's Shredder Fodder Input (tech.)
Needless to say, when there were only the two of us left in the office, the original director scoldingly remarked, 'If you're not that busy that you can feed paper into the shredder one sheet at a time can you go out into the warehouse and help Dave?' She was clearly suffering from Management Syndrome, had decided that I was time-wasting and needed to belittle and insult in order to elevate herself (despite there not being anyone around). 'Certainly,' I replied and spent the next three hours as an Accounts and Administration Assistant packing motorcycle parts into boxes and sending them out.
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