High Noon

There was a problem at work today.
Fixing Pither with an icey stare, the - surprise, fucking surprise - ex-teacher who is his current and immediate boss bellowed: "So what are WE going to do about it?"
"ONE doesn't know about ONESELF," Pither replied, fixing her with his Grade 1 Paddington stare in return, "but if WE talk to ONE like a five-year-old again WE are going to be doing it all on our LONESY-WONESOME! Comprenez?"
This retort followed two weeks of carping, snide comments, uselessness and interference from said pig-in-a-dress so the Bunfight at the OK Tea Rooms moment had to arrive sooner or later.
"We need to talk, Pither. In my office!!"
As I closed the door behind us, she just managed to get as far as "I have never, in all my born days, been spoken to like....." when I said, calmly yet menacingly "I'm sure you haven't - and that is part of your problem. If you ever patronise me like that again in front of colleagues I will be out of here before you can say 'is it chairs-on-desks-time-already?' Me? I will walk into another job the following day. You? You will be left with a national, in-house magazine and a regional newsletter to bring out all on your own, you will actually have to field press calls instead of pretending you are too busy to take them and you will have to dig up news worthy stuff to issue as releases to the press. What's it gunna be?"
"All I meant was......"
"You meant to be rude, over-bearing, arrogant and to score points off the latest arrival in the office. Sadly, you have picked the wrong person. If you talk to me like that again or, for that matter, in the condescending way you have been doing since I came here, I shall respond in kind, with several words you will have to go and look up in a medical textbook!"
"Ok, I see how it could cause offence and I apologise."
"While we're on the subject of how not to run an office, might I suggest you stop asking me every five minutes to do things I actually did last week? Also, here's an idea. If you want to query my hours in front of other members of staff, I have logged them in detail and shall post them on the office wall. Might I suggest you do the same, although it might cause some embarrassment as you went home early on Friday, were off on Monday and are leaving early again today."
"You keep going out for smoke breaks."
"That would be because a) I smoke and b) You and your ilke have dictated that I have to go down nine floors and outside the building to smoke! Besides, I only go out about as frequently as you disappear to make tea or go to the snacks machine."
"I accept I can't stop you smoking but..."
"Too bleedin' right you can't! I can't stop you constantly eating chocolate either so let's call that a draw, shall we?"
"You take your lunch break at the wrong time."
"What!??!!"
"You go out at 2pm. Everyone else goes out from 1-2pm."
"That's WHY I go out at 2pm - to wait for everyone else to have their break, gentleman and considerate co-worker that I am, so that the office is not empty with no-one to take calls."
"Well I want you to go from 1-2pm."
"Fine, let's leave the office empty. Another stroke of genius."
"And I signed your hours last week at 2pm on Friday and you said you would be staying until 5pm."
"So?"
"Well I don't know that you actually did those hours on Friday, do I?"
"No, you don't, because you buggered off home just after 2pm. I, meanwhile, stayed until 5pm. Now, let's get the witnesses in to prove it."
"There's no need for that."
"Oh really? You've just implied that I could and might have defrauded the company and the agency which found me the job and you don't think that's something we need to sort out? I kinda think it is - either now or in court!"
"Ok, I accept you do not fiddle your hours, it's just..."
"Just what?!? The fact is you are desperately trying to find something to pin on me because I have pointed out that which is blindingly obvious to everyone out there - that you can no more run an office than you can run up Everest. Your job - your ONLY job - is to man-manage and, dare I say, you have Stalin's people skills. What you don't like is people who don't take crap. Well, I've taken more crap in 25 years of journalism than you've had Mars bars and I made up my mind a while ago that I wasn't about to take any more."
"I didn't realise you were so unhappy or angry."
"Oh, this isn't me being angry. The police are usually called when that happens."
"Well, I'm sorry if I've upset you. You are outspoken and I respect that. Let's move on and work together."
"For the best results, might I suggest that, from now on, I do my job and you don't do yours. I am self-employed, remember? I am not under the same tinpot little arbitrary rules you choose to make up for the others. We're not at school now."
"Is there anything else you're concerned about."
"My hair is thinning and I'm worried about our young tennis players not breaking through at international level but, apart from that, nothing at the moment - but I'll let you know if there is."
"Ok, maybe we should meet once a week, just to air any problems. Anyway, I'll have to go now as I've got to get home for 3pm because I'm going away tonight."
"No comment."

Bloody managers! Why is it that, invariably, they haven't got a fucking clue about how to encourage the people who work for them or how human beings behave? Conversely, all they fucking do is cause strife, make everyone want to give up and bring things to a grinding halt. Wankers!!
Anyway, I'm off tomorrow!! Before the catcalls start, Pad is going in for another operation and so I offered to work a half-day from home, instead of taking a day's leave, so long as I could take the dog to hospital. That idea was thrown out by Mrs Hitler and so the things which are on the diary/need to be done tomorrow just won't get fucking done because she sure as buggery-bollocks won't get off her purulent, voluminous, spotty arse to do them.

SHE can go to Grantham.