Wednesday, December 06, 2006
General comes back from the dead...
About a month ago, the general woke up one Monday morning and said Fuck it. I'm not going to work today. This is not good. This means my head is full up. It was about the time that I just heard that we were to lose 8 detectives off my crew, leaving 4 detectives (including me) to soak up the work of about 18 detectives who were already strapped.
It was also around the time that an anonymous stress survey was doing the rounds. I had taken the time to fill it out and was a little concerned to find that I had also filled up 4 x A4 sides of further information for the stress survey folk to read. This is not good. This is bad.
I consoled myself that I had been telling the management (and you lot) that we needed more humans to help with the workload for some time. And so began my self-certified sick leave. This allowed me a week to get my shit together and have a rest before my body broke and my head actually came apart like a Terrys chocolate orange. I knew something was up when I didn't wake up on the Tuesday until 1430hrs. I had won the Golden blanket award.
I made a cup of tea, munched round my crib for half an hour, had a bath and had a little devil on my shoulder saying "shall we go on the piss and then phone our missus about midnight and ask her to pick us up from the battle cruiser". Luckily, I had to eat which kept lucifer at bay on my shoulder. So I made an egg sandwich, sat on the sofa and watched DVD's until midnight when I decided to go to bed. This continued for a week.
By the end of the week, my body actually allowed itself to be poorly so I had a really heavy cold and virus type shit going on so I went to the quack and he wrote me a note. Cool. Another week off. Beelzebub was now on my shoulder saying "you can't have 2 weeks off work, who will deal with the 67 crimes you have in your basket, the 5 long term enquiries, the overnight prisoners, the 'general you will be shot if you don't adhere to this policy etc etc.'"
Fuck off devil.
I did have some calls off DS wise bloke and Juice Boy who said " fuckin thanks for leaving me " which obviously made me feel much brighter. In any case, there did seem like some genuine concern that I was okay and I wasn't going to go mad or need 6 months to prevent burnout which it was quite obvious I was very near to.
So, Monday morning, armed with my sick note from the doc and feeling ready for action, I turned to.
267 Emails, I kid you not. Most of them telling me how shit I am at anything resembling procedure or red-tape policy. And some other boring ones from idiots who don't deserve to have an email account. And a couple of good ones saying hope you're okay and shit like that. I had one from DS wise bloke ordering me to come and see him that very afternoon for my annual appraisal. I had to take this seriously apparently because if you don't have your appraisal done before the end of this date, the Chief Super will tear your supervisor a new head in front of everyone at the next tasking meeting. I found this mildly strange seeing as though I hadn't had one for 6 years until a couple of years ago. Anyway, DS wise bloke is a stickler for this type of back patting shite so I had to go just to shut him up.
"Hello Gen my good friend..I trust you are feeling better and aren't going to wipe out the rest of our office with your bubonic plague?"
"Why thank you sarge, I'm feeling much better for not having to listen to you giving me shit jobs all day and then pestering me for the end of week returns..."
" Ha ha gen, now I know you are joking, you love it really..."
" Whatever."
"I have set aside 3 hours for this appraisal, I hope that is okay with you?"
" You'll need more time than that for me to drip and mank in"
" Gen, my trusted professional friend, this is not a time to mank and moan, this appraisal is a celebration of a fine years work by a gifted detective"
"Whatever. You making me a brew then?"
"With pleasure. I will even clean the botulism out of your cup. We were growing a kind of penicillin culture in the bottom of it for you. Look, it looks like the surface of the moon doesn't it."
"Sarge, you made me go off sick because you are fucking clinically insane and I'm scared of you you freak."
"You don't mean that gen, you love me and you know it"
" No. I love beer and women, jack and coke, sleep, food and nice trainers. Not you, you should be in one flew over the cuckoos nest."
"Shall we start? good. I have to grade you 1,2 or 3...3 is shite and you will only have a 3 if you have never even done the thing they are asking. You have some 3's for like taking vulnerable witness statements and stuff."
"Fuck that.I ain't havin no 3's. You can have have some 3's for not getting human help and not taking the crew out for enough beers sarge"
"ha ha. 2 is you are good at your job. I know you are good at your job so 1 is fucking excellent, much better than good and you will have some 1's."
" Yep. for being a top boy, style and wearing nice clobber. Flannel with the ladies as well, I get a 1 for that defo..."
" I'm being serious gen, I have given you some 1's but on others, the benchmark is 2. You have to negotiate and convince me that you are exceptional in some of the skill areas"
"Come the fuck on then skip, bring it on you badboy..."
"so, how many 1's have I got DS wise bloke? Shit loads thats how many."
" I must say, that I was expecting more of you, I'm putting you down for a 3 for negotiating and influencing..."
"Whatever."
"Gen I want you to read the final supervisors comments and understand them please..."
" I would like to place on record my sincere gratitude for the tremendous contribution you have made to the team since your arrival in January. You are a pleasure to supervise and If I could have another 3 or 4 detectives of your calibre, I would remain in the same role for the rest of my career. You have the ability to bring flair to your detective work and you infect others with your enthusiasm in all you do. However, I would add that it is a professional wish of mine to see you put that same effort and enthusiasm into promotion. You would make an excellent sergeant and I have no doubt that you could be a substantive sergeant within twelve to 18 months if you applied yourself to the matter. I have never, since I have been a sergeant, scored anyone as highly in their appraisal as I have you on this occasion. You should be proud of your achievements this year which has been arguably the toughest year of your professional career to date."
"Nice one sarge."
"You deserve it now get the fuck out of my office you lazy twat"
"And get me a brew. And why the fuck have you got 67 crimes in your basket. We need to talk."
"We just did for 5 hours sarge. I grew a beard listening to you droning on."
I'm back. I feel better. Thanks for all of your loving comments when I was chained to the desk. I have been quiet the last fortnight because I have been working late to clear the shit I never cleared when I was ill.
I'll have an email off you all for christmas if you don't mind?
It was also around the time that an anonymous stress survey was doing the rounds. I had taken the time to fill it out and was a little concerned to find that I had also filled up 4 x A4 sides of further information for the stress survey folk to read. This is not good. This is bad.
I consoled myself that I had been telling the management (and you lot) that we needed more humans to help with the workload for some time. And so began my self-certified sick leave. This allowed me a week to get my shit together and have a rest before my body broke and my head actually came apart like a Terrys chocolate orange. I knew something was up when I didn't wake up on the Tuesday until 1430hrs. I had won the Golden blanket award.
I made a cup of tea, munched round my crib for half an hour, had a bath and had a little devil on my shoulder saying "shall we go on the piss and then phone our missus about midnight and ask her to pick us up from the battle cruiser". Luckily, I had to eat which kept lucifer at bay on my shoulder. So I made an egg sandwich, sat on the sofa and watched DVD's until midnight when I decided to go to bed. This continued for a week.
By the end of the week, my body actually allowed itself to be poorly so I had a really heavy cold and virus type shit going on so I went to the quack and he wrote me a note. Cool. Another week off. Beelzebub was now on my shoulder saying "you can't have 2 weeks off work, who will deal with the 67 crimes you have in your basket, the 5 long term enquiries, the overnight prisoners, the 'general you will be shot if you don't adhere to this policy etc etc.'"
Fuck off devil.
I did have some calls off DS wise bloke and Juice Boy who said " fuckin thanks for leaving me " which obviously made me feel much brighter. In any case, there did seem like some genuine concern that I was okay and I wasn't going to go mad or need 6 months to prevent burnout which it was quite obvious I was very near to.
So, Monday morning, armed with my sick note from the doc and feeling ready for action, I turned to.
267 Emails, I kid you not. Most of them telling me how shit I am at anything resembling procedure or red-tape policy. And some other boring ones from idiots who don't deserve to have an email account. And a couple of good ones saying hope you're okay and shit like that. I had one from DS wise bloke ordering me to come and see him that very afternoon for my annual appraisal. I had to take this seriously apparently because if you don't have your appraisal done before the end of this date, the Chief Super will tear your supervisor a new head in front of everyone at the next tasking meeting. I found this mildly strange seeing as though I hadn't had one for 6 years until a couple of years ago. Anyway, DS wise bloke is a stickler for this type of back patting shite so I had to go just to shut him up.
"Hello Gen my good friend..I trust you are feeling better and aren't going to wipe out the rest of our office with your bubonic plague?"
"Why thank you sarge, I'm feeling much better for not having to listen to you giving me shit jobs all day and then pestering me for the end of week returns..."
" Ha ha gen, now I know you are joking, you love it really..."
" Whatever."
"I have set aside 3 hours for this appraisal, I hope that is okay with you?"
" You'll need more time than that for me to drip and mank in"
" Gen, my trusted professional friend, this is not a time to mank and moan, this appraisal is a celebration of a fine years work by a gifted detective"
"Whatever. You making me a brew then?"
"With pleasure. I will even clean the botulism out of your cup. We were growing a kind of penicillin culture in the bottom of it for you. Look, it looks like the surface of the moon doesn't it."
"Sarge, you made me go off sick because you are fucking clinically insane and I'm scared of you you freak."
"You don't mean that gen, you love me and you know it"
" No. I love beer and women, jack and coke, sleep, food and nice trainers. Not you, you should be in one flew over the cuckoos nest."
"Shall we start? good. I have to grade you 1,2 or 3...3 is shite and you will only have a 3 if you have never even done the thing they are asking. You have some 3's for like taking vulnerable witness statements and stuff."
"Fuck that.I ain't havin no 3's. You can have have some 3's for not getting human help and not taking the crew out for enough beers sarge"
"ha ha. 2 is you are good at your job. I know you are good at your job so 1 is fucking excellent, much better than good and you will have some 1's."
" Yep. for being a top boy, style and wearing nice clobber. Flannel with the ladies as well, I get a 1 for that defo..."
" I'm being serious gen, I have given you some 1's but on others, the benchmark is 2. You have to negotiate and convince me that you are exceptional in some of the skill areas"
"Come the fuck on then skip, bring it on you badboy..."
"so, how many 1's have I got DS wise bloke? Shit loads thats how many."
" I must say, that I was expecting more of you, I'm putting you down for a 3 for negotiating and influencing..."
"Whatever."
"Gen I want you to read the final supervisors comments and understand them please..."
" I would like to place on record my sincere gratitude for the tremendous contribution you have made to the team since your arrival in January. You are a pleasure to supervise and If I could have another 3 or 4 detectives of your calibre, I would remain in the same role for the rest of my career. You have the ability to bring flair to your detective work and you infect others with your enthusiasm in all you do. However, I would add that it is a professional wish of mine to see you put that same effort and enthusiasm into promotion. You would make an excellent sergeant and I have no doubt that you could be a substantive sergeant within twelve to 18 months if you applied yourself to the matter. I have never, since I have been a sergeant, scored anyone as highly in their appraisal as I have you on this occasion. You should be proud of your achievements this year which has been arguably the toughest year of your professional career to date."
"Nice one sarge."
"You deserve it now get the fuck out of my office you lazy twat"
"And get me a brew. And why the fuck have you got 67 crimes in your basket. We need to talk."
"We just did for 5 hours sarge. I grew a beard listening to you droning on."
I'm back. I feel better. Thanks for all of your loving comments when I was chained to the desk. I have been quiet the last fortnight because I have been working late to clear the shit I never cleared when I was ill.
I'll have an email off you all for christmas if you don't mind?
