I.H.T.F.J.
When you find yourself saying this aloud to the grey and cloudy air it’s time to get out. I was exploring the joy of car parks at the time and found myself repeating the Parking Enforcers litany out loud; “I hate this fucking job, I really loathe this bloody lousy job; if it wasn’t for the money I’d be long gone.”
It’s not so much the crap you get from the ignorant and self important on the streets. It’s more the blatant monotony of it all; the grinding, day in day out single focus patrolling that acts like a carborundum grinding wheel on the sensitivities. Then there’s the attitude of management; “Do what I say or else!” Er, excuse me? Am I a grown up or some child that needs the heavy hand of discipline all the time? Can we not have a grown up discussion or do I have to waste time with the Council Union rep who has been in post so long he’s part of the management team?
You guessed it: I’ve just had my latest ‘appraisal’ and the results were derived from the merciless spreadsheets as interpreted by the acolytes of the malevolent God of the tick box. “You’re doing okay Bill, but what about..” Went the arguments of my ‘superiors’. Well I’m sorry, this is my best and it’s all you’re getting for the money. Of course I just clamped my fat mouth shut and sat there listening to the soft felt platitudes with a kind of frozen horror. More? How the hell can I give more? I’m flogging myself to death out here and they want more?
Most of us get home in a state of foot aching exhaustion at the end of a shift and they want to up the ante with more patrolling on more streets, more often? Bloody hell. Then there’s the “I’ve got a little job for you” routine where your workload is constantly increased like Chinese water torture. Drip, “don’t forget to check this” drip; “We need you to keep a record of that” drip; “can you increase patrols in this area as well as there?”. It never ends. All this wearing weighted boots. No wonder our lot get so many foot and leg related illness, and you can feel the solid knot of awful certainty in your guts; it’s going to get worse.
Sometimes I want to rip my own head off and go ten pin bowling with it. Face it; I’m not in this job to use my brains.
Neither is anyone else.
It’s not so much the crap you get from the ignorant and self important on the streets. It’s more the blatant monotony of it all; the grinding, day in day out single focus patrolling that acts like a carborundum grinding wheel on the sensitivities. Then there’s the attitude of management; “Do what I say or else!” Er, excuse me? Am I a grown up or some child that needs the heavy hand of discipline all the time? Can we not have a grown up discussion or do I have to waste time with the Council Union rep who has been in post so long he’s part of the management team?
You guessed it: I’ve just had my latest ‘appraisal’ and the results were derived from the merciless spreadsheets as interpreted by the acolytes of the malevolent God of the tick box. “You’re doing okay Bill, but what about..” Went the arguments of my ‘superiors’. Well I’m sorry, this is my best and it’s all you’re getting for the money. Of course I just clamped my fat mouth shut and sat there listening to the soft felt platitudes with a kind of frozen horror. More? How the hell can I give more? I’m flogging myself to death out here and they want more?
Most of us get home in a state of foot aching exhaustion at the end of a shift and they want to up the ante with more patrolling on more streets, more often? Bloody hell. Then there’s the “I’ve got a little job for you” routine where your workload is constantly increased like Chinese water torture. Drip, “don’t forget to check this” drip; “We need you to keep a record of that” drip; “can you increase patrols in this area as well as there?”. It never ends. All this wearing weighted boots. No wonder our lot get so many foot and leg related illness, and you can feel the solid knot of awful certainty in your guts; it’s going to get worse.
Sometimes I want to rip my own head off and go ten pin bowling with it. Face it; I’m not in this job to use my brains.
Neither is anyone else.
3 Comments:
Bill, everytime they ask you to add a little more to your job, just tell them that you can do that with the appropriate increase in compensation due to the increase in time it will take...good luck
Spartacus
Spartacus,
Did try asking for a rise when they pulled the same stunt on my last appraisal, only to be met with a blank 'But don't you feel grateful you've actually got a job?' look.
Regards
Bill
Bill,
Yep you're a wage slave - like so many others. Choices are to:
1) put up with it for the sake of the money
2) find a different job where the chains are not so oppressive or obvious
3) keep the job but 'play' your masters e.g. if they want you to 'do' more streets its obvious that you cannot do the job so thoroughly... or report expired tax discs to CCTV...
I recognise that this puts you between a rock and a hard place (your personal integrity vs the system). In my case I had a job that I loved but new senior managers were brought in with 'new ideas'. These ideas turned out to be old failed ideas we had already tried and discounted but the new people were hell bent on promoting their own careers and did not want to upset their masters... Because of my age and circumstances (both my lads completed University) I was able to take early retirement (choice 4). I'm earning no money but I am free of the rat race.
So if you see a distinguished(!) guy tramping into town carrying a rucsack and beaming a big grin - give him a smile in return, it might be me.
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