I’m not paranoid - they are out to get me
I was out on patrol late last week when I got a phone call from my supervisor. It was pretty innocuous stuff, but the background noise made me pause for thought. I could hear the dulcet tones of a CCTV operator in the background, and the bleeping of radio’s on another channel. You didn’t have to be a genius to work out where he was making the call from; right in the CCTV room. What was he in there for? Supervisors were at one stage forbidden access to CCTV because there was an accusation of skiving.
Of late there has been a trend for management to be seen coming and going a lot from control. When I say a lot, I mean at least three or four times a day, appearing to spend several hours in there. Of course this could be our managers trying to get some sort of idea of how the relationship between the control room and us footsloggers is falling down (I wish). If this is the case, then fair do’s. Unfortunately more sinister doings may be afoot.
Upon some judicious questioning and a little lighthearted banter with our supervisors, we’ve been noticing how cagey they’ve suddenly become. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but the clues are there. “What’s life like in control?” Was a light-hearted question that fell on very stony ground. You should have seen the faces freeze.
A number of the other guys have noticed, and a nasty rumour has begun to circulate that we are being watched with suspicious eyes. Someone is bunking off for half the day and the rest of us are under suspicion because of it. Yes I know I’ve blogged that I’ve ‘ghosted’ the odd street or two, but only when it’s been crap weather, or when my feet really hurt. I don’t do it to extend my breaks, as I don’t want to spend too much of my life in the mess room (It is called a mess because that’s what it often is – untidy, stinks of leftover microwaved meals, wet kit, other peoples hilarious farts and has a neo-brutalist décor that leaches the spirit just to be there). I’d rather be away and outside in the fresh air. Damn the rain. There’s always a nice dry archway close by.
The result of this implied suspicion is that we footsloggers have started to watch where the cameras are pointing, and when not in the hustle and bustle of the town centre beats are beginning to deliberately avoid their gaze, often walking out of our way to do so. This is not good. It’s bad enough we are held in contempt by the very people who are supposed to be looking out for us, but now we all appear to have been judged to be a bunch of leadswinging idlers, despite the fact that our results and averages are better than ever.
I’ve never been under such intense scrutiny in my entire life. Oh well, the job will suffer. As will we in the short term.
Of late there has been a trend for management to be seen coming and going a lot from control. When I say a lot, I mean at least three or four times a day, appearing to spend several hours in there. Of course this could be our managers trying to get some sort of idea of how the relationship between the control room and us footsloggers is falling down (I wish). If this is the case, then fair do’s. Unfortunately more sinister doings may be afoot.
Upon some judicious questioning and a little lighthearted banter with our supervisors, we’ve been noticing how cagey they’ve suddenly become. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but the clues are there. “What’s life like in control?” Was a light-hearted question that fell on very stony ground. You should have seen the faces freeze.
A number of the other guys have noticed, and a nasty rumour has begun to circulate that we are being watched with suspicious eyes. Someone is bunking off for half the day and the rest of us are under suspicion because of it. Yes I know I’ve blogged that I’ve ‘ghosted’ the odd street or two, but only when it’s been crap weather, or when my feet really hurt. I don’t do it to extend my breaks, as I don’t want to spend too much of my life in the mess room (It is called a mess because that’s what it often is – untidy, stinks of leftover microwaved meals, wet kit, other peoples hilarious farts and has a neo-brutalist décor that leaches the spirit just to be there). I’d rather be away and outside in the fresh air. Damn the rain. There’s always a nice dry archway close by.
The result of this implied suspicion is that we footsloggers have started to watch where the cameras are pointing, and when not in the hustle and bustle of the town centre beats are beginning to deliberately avoid their gaze, often walking out of our way to do so. This is not good. It’s bad enough we are held in contempt by the very people who are supposed to be looking out for us, but now we all appear to have been judged to be a bunch of leadswinging idlers, despite the fact that our results and averages are better than ever.
I’ve never been under such intense scrutiny in my entire life. Oh well, the job will suffer. As will we in the short term.
3 Comments:
1984 anyone?
Yep. Big Bother is watching you.
You should start holding up big notices to the cameras with "HERE I AM." with the day,date, time & place underneath in smaller letters. Let them know you know what they are doing.
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