Target worked his full notice and finished today. Good for him, at least it gave me and Boss one last day off each before the Hell of seven-day working begins again. It’s just me and Boss once more.
Nobody seems to stay long. Boss is wondering if it’s her who scares them off and I’m wondering if it’s me. Although Target wasn’t scared off by either of us. He left because of the distance he had to travel. He has a job nearer home now.
He’s still seeing Cafe Girl. I had hoped that would keep him in this job but he’s seeing her long-distance for now. A situation I can’t really criticise: his ‘long-distance’ is only about an hour’s bus ride. Not really very long at all.
This means I’ll be on the 3-9 shift all week. Boss will work the mornings and on the busy nights she’ll come back in for a quick 6-9 later (I hear tittering. Stop tittering. You know who you are).
She’s trying to get me to do 3-6 on Fridays and she’ll come back in for the evenings but I don’t want to let her do that. I know why she’s doing it. She’s worried it’ll all get too much and I’ll resign again like last August. But it’s not fair to let her do too many mornings and evenings. She has two small kids and has been unwell.
Yes, she’s the boss and nominally in charge but to anyone looking in it’s not quite so clear cut. I can be pretty persuasive when the need arises.Besides, she only has one person to manage and I’m unmanageable. Which, I suppose, makes her job really easy.
I have suggested press-ganging. Spike someone’s drink in the pub and they’ll wake up with a mop in one hand and a contract in the other. She has suggested I chat up women in the street, get their phone numbers and she’ll phone them and offer them a job. I pointed out that that was fairly creepy and the women might get the wrong impression. If they gave me their number and a woman later phoned offering them a job… well, they might think ‘cleaning job’ was some kind of euphemism. We might get arrested.
Also, if I did that and someone found out, I might be involved in an unfortunate brick-related incident. So both plans have been rejected. It’s just straight advertising.
Area Manager has already tried to cancel my forthcoming week away at the end of the month. She still has the rather quaint impression that I can be controlled. Managers in jobs where I was on a £30K+ salary were disabused of this notion pretty rapidly but she still clings to it.
I suppose she’s used to dealing with two-O-level mop-jockeys who aren’t going to go anywhere else. Yet she has seen my CV, all quarter-inch-thick of it. This job is at the very bottom of the heap and is not, by far, the most important thing in my life. Certainly not this year. I’m really only still there so as not to let Boss down. As soon as I train a suitable replacement in lab-standard cleaning and Cafe Girl taunting, I’m off. I had hoped Target was that replacement but it was not to be.
He was so promising though. He’d already been taunting Posh Blonde with no encouragement from me. I really thought he had it in him to keep the lunacy going.
There is no question about me getting on that plane on the 29th. As Boss is well aware, the only question is whether I come back. If there’s no little janitor job to come back to, I might forget to come back at all. Except in July because I’ve already paid for kilt hire, along with all the fancy gubbins that goes with it. The jacket with square buttons and the sporran and the very shiny shoes… I must get a dirk. Everyone should have a dirk.
I could still blog from Denmark. They have electricity now and rarely herd pigs through the streets any more. I know the Danish words for bacon, ham, cheese, beer and idiot. I think that’s pretty much all I’ll ever need. Although I should learn more insults so I’ll know what they’re calling me.
But they don’t have deep-fried pizza. Yet.