Archive for the ‘On the Job’ Category

« Older Entries

but that’s my fault

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010

Ack.

After a disappointing first lesson with two fifteen year old shit-stirrers who obviously spent the summer receiving lessons in evilness in the bowels of hell, I walked into the staff kitchen and whined, I really hate my new job! to anyone who would listen. In this instance it was the nice little Iron Lady. Oh KatieF! she smiled.

Then the bus from ChavTown just missed the bus in Quaint Historic Market Town, so I had to travel all the way to maC and get a bus back out to FlatHickTown. Fourteen miles became about forty. But that’s my fault for not being able to drive.

*sigh*

Still, I just caught it today (although in my haste to get off the bus in Quaint Historic Market Town I bumbled into a rack of bus timetables and they all tumbled onto the floor) and the lovely bus driver promised he’d have a word with the other bus drivers, who all work the direct route that I get in the morning and used to get regularly in the evening.

Oh, I’m a teacher now. I feel that I was rather bullied into it (but that’s my fault for not being able to drive) and I feel completely out of my depth because a) it’s been six years since I last officially donned a Teacher’s Hat, and b) it’s not my specialist subject (although I have been ‘teaching’ it for the last six years.)

The one perky advantage I have is that it’s part-time (0.5ft), so I officially only have to be in work for three hours twice a week, three and three quarter hours another day, and one whole day. I still get my middle of the week day off. Huzzah!

Not so Huzzah! about the shite bus service in this area though.

But that’s my fault for not being able to drive. I can’t stress that enough.

*rolls eyes*

Tags: , ,
Posted in On the Job | No Comments »

A little bit of this and a lot of that.

Wednesday, March 17th, 2010

There are quibbles at work which are going to get quibblier as the weeks go on. Due to all the governments ‘inclusion’ silliness, we are changing. From September we’re changing our name, and the staffing structure, plus we’re getting slightly different kids.

Morale?

It was already low, but this just makes it lower.

There may (or may not; we are still in the consultation period and so things might change) have to be redundancies, but I get the impression they’re hoping enough staff leave naturally and the jobs can be shared amongst those who remain. I have to make a decision; do I want to stay if it means more hours at a decreased level (and therefore a decreased wage, although my current wage may be frozen, perhaps)? There us no guarantee I would get the position anyways, although by all reckoning, the competition won’t be too taxing.

Or do I feel that the time is right to move on …

Maybe, if the right position is advertised.

Everybody is huddling in corners, whispering within their little cliques. There will no doubt be battles when the teachers all decide to go for the same position. And the cleaners! Bless them! I love our cleaners to bits. They’re both about one hundred years old (perfect for not quite wanting to clean around the computers in case they break them) with failing eyesight (great for spotting those elusive cobwebs) and minds that are best left in the gutter.

They’re cutting our hours, grumbled Naughty Nan.
We won’t have time to hoover every room, moaned Irish Eyes. And you know what the boss is like, she continued shaking her head in despair.

To top it all off, the kids are (all) on Mephedrone, cOs iTz LeGaL, innit. Idiots.

At night my bedroom makes strange sounds. It whirs and buzzes, gloops and schniffles, and bomps and sloshes. Occasionally it beeps too.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Poor Tabatha-Cat must be wondering why we prefer having a machine in our room to having her in there. I miss sleeping with her curled around my head, but she’d only clambour over the Peritoneal Dialysis machine, spreading her fur and germs around.

*sad face*

We have no name for the machine. It worked for two nights, then stopped working. Blokey went back on haemodialysis for two sessions. Now he’s back on PD (since Sunday night) and [*fingers crossed*] it appears to be working swimmingly.

*touches wood, quickly*

It might stop working again because his catheter may be in the wrong position.

Still, at least he’s alive. When people ask me how he is I quite often say, ‘Well, he’s still alive!’. It throws them, and I find that amusing. I am a queen b(ee) with an itch. There are so many people who really don’t understand that if he wasn’t having dialysis he would probably have about ten days to live. And that’s a good estimate.

*sigh*

You wouldn’t believe it but I am looking on the bright side. Really. Even though I loathe Monty and all things Python …

Tags: , , ,
Posted in In Sickness ..., On the Job | 2 Comments »

don’t flatter yourself, love

Friday, January 8th, 2010

I participated in a very angry conversation on the bus this evening.  It was with my boss and took place entirely in my head.

My boss is an odd one.  She doesn’t like people whom she perceives to be ‘weak’, partly because I don’t think she understands them.  She’s the type of person who has far too much energy; she survives on about four hours sleep a night, which may be fine for her, but it’s a bit much that she doesn’t understand that most ordinary people can’t.

I have no idea what happened.  I was absolutely fine.  I had some issues with a couple of things, but it was nothing that a good whinge wouldn’t fix.  But then Dotty came in and said we could go home early, and I just burst into tears. 

*shrugs*

And then my boss got wind of it, and she came crashing into the room babbling on about stuff (pressure mainly) that didn’t actually have anything to do with why I was upset

(I don’t really know why I was upset, and the thing she thinks is upsetting me, isn’t)

and I couldn’t find the words to tell her nicely to ‘piss off’, so I just turned my back on her and grunted once or twice.  Now she thinks I’m weak and rude (probably).

I need her to know that I wasn’t feeling pressured, I just want to be prepared.  Why does she assume everything is about pressure and not having the ability to cope? Tsk.

Sometimes I just need a damn good uncontrollable sob and the weight lifts, the mist clears and everything is hunky-dory again …

In happier news, I’m partaking of a trip in a big scary metal bird in February (to Prague with Mumsy, to see my Big Brother and finally meet my littlest niece) … Will I cry with fear this time, or won’t I?  Oh, of course I will … *grin*

Tags: , ,
Posted in On the Job | 2 Comments »

in a funk

Wednesday, December 16th, 2009

I’m becoming increasingly disillusioned. This isn’t with life itself, or my marriage.

It’s just my job.

I’ve been in my current position since the September of 2004, which is the longest I’ve ever worked anywhere.

Go me!

For the most part I love like it.  I don’t have to think too hard, I get a day off during the week – which I need, both emotionally and psychologically (and because I’m lazy), and I don’t have to bring work home with me. 

But just recently there have been things happening which really irk me.  I’m expected to be an all-singing, all-dancing, super employee, an expectation which is both demoralising and ridiculous.

I’m covering for one of our Science teachers who is on long-term sick.  I can’t do Science.  I’m the idiot who only got a DD in her Combined Science GCSE.  This has been since May, with no information as to when the teacher will return.  I’m also having to deliver some Maths (which I hate), some English (which I love) and some ICT (which I quite like) on my regular timetable (which changes three times a week, quite literally).  On top of that I have to cover for absent colleagues, usually unexpectedly so work isn’t always set.

I don’t mind the variety in my timetable; I just wish it was based more on my strengths.  The issue is more to do with the fact that there are so many changes and the students see me in so many different roles that it’s confusing for everybody (me included).  I have put my foot down with regards covering reception when our receptionist is off; I’m not an admin worker and I don’t do phones.

Why are you teaching me English when you’re a Science teacher?

Tsk.

Oh, and then there’s Little Miss Perfect, Arselicker.  I’m unsure as to why her lack of qualifications, courses and experience made her a better option than me for a particular role (one day a week) to cover for a colleague who left.  I suspect that the fact she a) can drive and b) doesn’t mind talking on the phone were her only strengths over mine.  And if I find out she’s getting paid for that day at a higher rate I shall be mightily pissed …

Maybe it’s time to start looking for a new (better) position, but I earn quite good money and like my day off.  On the other hand I could just stop whinging like a sour puss.

It used to be fun in my place of work … now it’s just a bitchfest.  (Although that can be quite enjoyable too …)

Tags: , ,
Posted in On the Job | 2 Comments »

« Older Entries