3 posts tagged “boss”

Basic coffee machine

Any suggestions, coffee lovers?  Illustrious Leader said she'd get us an office coffee machine if we hit our targets, and Varun has just pushed us over the threshold and into coffeedom.  'Send me some links to coffee machine websites,' the Boss grumbled, so now we are shopping.  Her grumpy reluctance, incidentally, is pure dissimulation.  She drinks more coffee than a private eye who moonlights as a secondary school teacher.

Ironically, Varun doesn't actually drink coffee, he thinks it tastes like dirt, so we're looking for a coffee machine that also makes hot chocolate, or perhaps Piña Coladas.  That rules out our beloved Gaggia.  Me, I'd prefer some great steaming contraption that looks like it's straight out of a Lisbon pasteis de nata cafe.

It's so exciting!  We're all looking at online demonstration videos at our respective work stations.  "You can use this one if you've got a broken leg or carrying a baby,' the Boss just shouted.  'It has buttons big enough to press with a walking stick.  Or, alternatively, a baby's head.'

'This one works out at £30 a month,' Jayne shouts.  'You buy pods.'

'£30 a month!' the boss screams.  'Pods?'  She hadn't considered the fact that you have to buy coffee to put in your machine.  'We'll have to ration.'  She delivers her standard 'war baby' speech, which we all screen out.

'Hey!  This one makes milkshakes!' says Varun.

'Coffee and milkshakes?' I ask.  'Weird.'

'No, just milkshakes.'  He taps his keys.  'Hey!  This one makes soup!'

'Soup and coffee?' I ask.

He squints at his screen.  'Actually, no.  Just soup.'  Tapping.  'Hey...!'

At some point we will have to resume working.  For now, though, we're all enjoying what might be the last high we'll ever have that wasn't at least partly caffeine-induced.

Spam

Our lead consultant got attacked by 1500 invaders overnight, and they're overleaping our scant defences at a rate of one every thirty seconds.  The rest of us haven't had it so bad, but lately there's been a definite increase.  It's demoralising.

And it's dangerous.  You can only so spend so many weeks deleting spam messages before the taglines start to seep into your brain.  You're having a lively conversation with friends and family one day and suddenly everyone goes quiet and you realise that bangstick wasn't the word you'd meant to use.  Or you're giving succour to a depressed friend and suddenly you feel led to advise him on the ballistic potential of his outsized bazooka.  Next thing you know, you're using terms like ham-javelin in emails to your accountant.

You're socially ruined.  You lose your job.  You take to emailing your former co-workers and asking them if they're revving at pole-position in the bedroom.  Then, during a short prison stretch for email sexual harrassment, some wet-lipped guy visits you and says he'd like to offer you a job.  Says he's part of a covert scheme with Her Majesty's Prisons.  He locates potty-mouthed email perverts and secures them stimulating jobs with backstreet pharmaceutical e-traders.

You can't believe your luck.  'That would be...' You grope for words to express your emotions.  'That would be hotter than a three-dollar pistol!'

You walk free that day.  Later that afternoon you are sitting with two hundred other ex-cons in windowless, open-plan office decorated with fading pictures of Linda Lusardi, spamming my company, particularly Lead Consultant.  If she found you, she'd force you to eat your own eyes.  But she'll never find you.

Tension in the office today.  We've been badgering the Big Boss to sort out the spam situation.  Big Boss phones our system administrator, who says his hands are tied.  She hangs up on him, lets out a minute-long primal scream, and begins sending delirious emails to her staff.  Here is her honest-to-God last email to us:

Candidate

Just thought I'd give you a quick candid insight into the private e-life of our esteemed boss.  I've omitted the one-word email she sent round the office subsequent to this delightful exchange.  Names have been removed and the mails arranged in chronological order.

From Boss

To [old candidate on database]

Hi [old candidate on database]

You are registered on our database but we haven't heard from you in a while. Are you looking for a new career opportunity right now?

We are receiving many new vacancies from all over the UK on a daily basis at present and in order to match your details correctly, we need the most up to date information. We would appreciate a current CV, which you can email direct to recruit@hts.co.uk and/or you could call us on 0121 766 6626, where our team of Consultants will be happy to speak to you.  [Etc. etc...]

Look forward to hearing from you.

Kindest regards

[Boss]

From [old candidate on database]

To Boss

Subject: RE: Job opportunities at HTS

I'm in South Korea if you have a job over here then let me know otherwise remove me from your obsolete databas.

Hi

Have removed you from our obsolete databas as requested.

kr

[Boss]

* * *

Incidentally, our database has nearly 100,000 candidates registered.  We've been going for nearly 17 years.  A bit of obsolesence is par for the course.  Most 'old' candidates we contact for an update are very polite and are glad we're thinking of them.

If people are going to be rude, though, they should at least be able to spell.