Roundabouts. 8/16/2004
Been busy with work of late. Somehow, the Project Director seems to think I’m spending too much time behind my desk. So he’s tasked me to do something really really horrible. He wants me to mark the floors for the equipment layouts. I mean, like why can’t the relevant consultant concerned with the area/equipment do it? It’s not like they’re terribly overworked. One of them, G., comes in at 10 a.m. every day. Every single working day. And ostensibly goes home at 6:30, to make up the hours. One day I stayed late myself, to see what he actually got up to. All I saw him do was chat on the phone in his mother tongue to fuck knows who. It wasn’t like he was doing any productive or real work.
When he was questioned about it, he had to cheek to ask the PD whether the PD wanted his presence or the quality of his work. Oi! Twattie. You call yourself a consultant, at least have the fucking decency to be a professional and observe the posted working hours. To top it off, he has no qualifications, except for a technical certificate issued by the Navy, and he has the fucking cheek to try and tell me what should be done in my area of specialisation. When that happened, I did something I haven’t done before. I brought the certificate showing my professional membership in the body concerned and pinned it up on the wall behind me.
I usually hate showing off these kind of things. I did it to obtain a professional certification and standing, and to provide myself with some personal satisfaction, that I could actually qualify to join an elite group of professionals. But because of this cunt, everyone thinks that I’m showing off. Well, maybe I am, but at least no one tries to second guess me or my observations and findings anymore.
- Posted in : Work Bitching
- Author : thesnark
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