froodle: (bitch)
Ugh and now i have a cold, 100% due to being forced to spend ninety excruciating minutes in an unheated tent in the middle of a waterlogged field during the pouring rain last friday, while a knobhead in a giant polyester shirt made us all watch a ridiculous video presentation in which he a) claimed falsely that we'd gone four years without any lost time injuries, b) followed that up with "four years - thats thirty months!" (no really, sigh) and c) managed to spell the THREE LETTER NAME of our parent company wrong.
froodle: (bitch)
My God, these idiots literally cannot help themselves.

So part of the ridiculous health and safety "culture" they fake at work, we have to make up - I mean, find - and report one hazard a month. The directors have straight up said it's a numbers game, that their rationale is that it everyone "finds" and "reports" a hazard, there won't be any hazards ever, nobody will have any accidents and we will continue having zero lost time injuries and a forced annual company picnic for the rest of eternity.

People who work in the office have a choice between only reporting real hazards when they occur and risk having the health and safety guy crawl up their ass about their numbers being down, or making up fake and/or petty hazards to report once a month to get the creepy sweater-vest wearing joke of a man to back off.

I usually go the fake/petty route, because the H&S guy is a lecherous boobtalker who never missed a chance to patronize or belittle female employees and at least this way I limit my contact to once a month. It's usually something along the lines of "I was making coffee and spilled some sugar granules, left unattended it might have attracted ants so I cleaned it up."

(Because cleaning up after yourself in a shared workspace is about health and safety and makimg sure nobody gets hurt in a tragic sugar accident, not about being a fucking grownup with consideration for others.)

Anyway, today he gets on the phone to all the supervisors, spluttering into his fucking polo shirt about how nobody's reported a hazard, boohoo now we will all die from deadly coffee granules, get a fucking job. So I'm like, okay, time for a bullshit hazard that is really just filling out a form that says "I did a basic workplace hygiene practice, YOUR JOB IS VALIDATED YOU ARGYLE PATTERNED PERV."

Here's the thing. I'm tall. I'm six foot tall, and a woman, and because of that, a lot of things are a little too low or short for me. I'm also left handed, dyspraxic, have legs just uneven enough to make me limp after a long day on my feet and am partially deaf in one ear. So as a rule, I'm a little bit clumsy. Not in any way that would affect my day to day - I walk everywhere and I've tended bar, waited tables and slung various forms of hot caffiene for a living multiple times, so its not like I'm Mister Fucking Bump from the Mr Men books over here.

And the sink in the ladies toilets is designed for women much smaller than me. Like, a lot smaller. The basin is actually a little lower than my crotch. To use it i either been forward so far my bum is actually blocking the door to one of the two cubicles - not great for me, presumably not great for anyone else using that cubicle who most likely doesn't want my rear end trapping them in the loo - and also hurts my back, or i stand straight and inevitably a few droplets of water end up on the floor around the sink.

And to be 100% clear, I always fucking dry them up because I am a goddamn grown-up who understands shared facilities, and the only reason anyone knows about this in the first place is because of this bullshit hazard reporting because I have to find something to fucking report each month, and funnily enough, I do wash my hands on a regular basis while in the office.

So I fill in this nonsense form and email it to this horrific bag of wasted skin, and I assume I'll hear no more from him for the next few weeks, huzzah.

And then, I get this emailed to me:

Hi (my name),
Thank you for this hazard , but can I remind you that you have submitted this particular hazard a number of times, please can you to be more careful when washing your hands in the future.
Many thanks
(an idiot)

And he has, for no good-faith reason I can fathom, copied in a random, high-ranking guy from our drafting/planning department. This other guy is perfectly nice from what I've seen, but what the fuck does he need to know about my handwashing travails?!

Excuse the fuck out of you. You asked for your stupid fucking hazard, I gave you your bullshit paperwork so you could pretend your existence has a purpose, and your response is to basically other me for shit I genuinely cannot help?!

So, I responded. And I copied in my supervisor because AM I FUCK letting this go unanswered.

Hi (dickhead),
I actually can’t help it as due to my height stooping to the small sink causes me back pain. I would also add I find it quite upsetting to be singled out in this manner for something I cannot help, especially as it is something I make right immediately.
Kind regards
(my name)

Like, where the fuck do you get off making me out to be some fucking failure who somehow doesn't know how to wash her fucking hands after almost thirty four years on this goddamn earth? How dare you fucking take a shot at me for trying to pretend you actually bring some worth to this company? HOW DARE YOU CRITICISE ME BECAUSE I'M A LITTLE TOO FUCKING BIG FOR THE WORLD AROUND ME YOU HORRIBLE HORRIBLE CUNT?!

So. Now I need to write a formal complaint and basically figure out the worksafe way of saying the above without dipping into the kind of name calling where I refer to him as a grotesque mound of protoplasm squeezed into a hideous argyle patterned vest like the world's most distressing display of yarn.

Which he is. But also a shitty human being and a really, really terrible professional.
froodle: (bitch)
Im just saying, if you give such a fuck about your company's health and safety record and the wellbeing of your precious and valued employees that you force them to attend a stupid mandatory picnic to "celebrate" your (falsified) zero lost time injuries streak, maybe consider putting some safeguards in place when your naked greed incites public protests outside the office, where your staff are trapped at ground zero with the unhappy public.
froodle: (bitch)
Today was a bad day

Since what happened, I've been... messed up. I feel afraid the majority of time, outside of work too but especially in the office.

To get to the toilets or to the kitchen or even to get out, I have to walk past my supervisors wide-windowed office and pull open an old fashioned fire door. This involves turning my back directly to him, and it makes my skin crawl to think he's looking at my back and legs and ass, at the way I hipcheck the door if my hands are full or the sway of my skirt if I'm in a hurry and moving fast.

So I don't leave my desk except at lunch, ever. I don't get a drink, or use the loo, or do anything except sit in the corner and try to hide behind my monitor whenever he or the finance manager comes in.

Because of how nebulous the "the way you look is unacceptable and you should know this" talk went, and the lack of specific guidance even after I asked for it, repeatedly, I still don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

The fact that I'm seeing people in the office in leggings and palazzo pants, belted tunic dress and cold shoulder tops and sundresses with bare legs and open toed shoes, makes it even harder. I see people shorter than me wearing midthigh dresses with nobody batting an eyelid.

And the reference to my breast size and the fact that my skirt length essentially boils down to the length of my legs, given that even at six foot mine come well below my mid-thigh, all just makes me think this is personal, and cruel, and I feel deliberately targeted.

And because I don't know what to change about how I dress, and because I can't change my height or my figure, I've basically been trying to protect myself by being The Best Worker Ever, the fastest, the most productive, the helpfulest and most accurate.

And for a start I know that doesnt work, because I was the best on a scale where it took three people, a private office and a dedicated team supervisor to replace me when I left my old role, and I left specifically because I was being bullied, by that self-same finance manager, only back then the problem was my performance, not my looks.

And secondly, i cant be the best on my current team because I have the least amount of experience of the four people in that role, because I'm terrified, and because the medication I now take to stop being a trembling nervous wreck at work makes me slower than my normal working speed.

And I sit there and I slog through my work and I watch as the others tick their way through various checklists and task sheets and they ask if I need help and I say no, thank you, everything is fine and under control and actually how about I take on some of your stuff because its so totally fine, because I don't want to look weak or useless or like im dragging the team down, even though I'm drowning, because I'm already that big-titted fuckhead who cant even dress herself so why make myself more of a useless dead weight?

And even that isn't true, because my actual work is done by the time we leave for the day, it's just that theirs is done sooner, but at four oclock I see all their ticks and none of mine and I feel sick inside.

Today at five I was updating some of the boards, ready for tomorrow, maybe two minutes work to go before I was done. The other two were packed up and had headed for the door, and stopped to ask if I was okay and did I need a hand.

And I didnt, I just had a handful of figures to write up, but I was suddenly terrified of being alone in that office, knowing that our creepy supervisor was next door. And I wanted to say, no, please stay, please dont leave me here by myself, I am so afraid.

And I said no, its fine, ill be along in a minute, have a great weekend, because if I had said that it would have been real, it would be out there in a way i couldnt take back, i would be that woman who was scared to be alone for two fucking minutes in a brightly lit office building, who needed her hand holding because her skirts are too short and her boobs are too big and I would be her forever, and I couldnt fucking take that on top of everything else.

So, yeah. Today was a bad day.
froodle: (bitch)
Ugh. The email for this year's shitty compulsory company picnic came round today, just reminding everyone that attendance is mandatory for anyone scheduled to work that day. They call it "health and safety family fun day" and encourage people to bring their young children (but not like, young grandchildren or kids over fourteen) and basically its to "celebrate" the fact that the company has gone so many days without a lost time injury and "we care about our employees so much so they go back safe to you, their families".

This is the fourth year Ive had to endure this shitshow and from the start Ive thought it was gross, overreaching and basically an excuse to force the staff to watch the higher ups indulge in a massive self congratulatory bukkake party.

The first two years it was held in the carpark out the back of the office (seriously) and the portaloos were right next to the bbq and i spent the whole time being like "please god someone get food poisoning", walking off if anyone tried to take my photo and rolling my eyes so hard i lost time during the speeches.

The third time it was held at this grotfest of a cricket club way out of town, so we had to get these piss stinking coaches there in order to bear witness to the cumsmeared antics on offer, and i was even less entralled given that id spent a month on sick leave earlier in the year and then transferred to a different department after our finance manager pushed me over the edge with bullying that went back to 2013. You can imagine how excited I was to sit through a presentation on how much the company cared and how the safety of its staff is "at the heart of everything we do" after being bullied so badly I developed a stutter and Trigger warning? ) having never had a speech impediment or self harmed before.

But now? After this? Ive got a supervisor and a department manager who straight up think the bodies of their female reports are up for discussion, im struggling to think through anti-anxiety meds and the left over fog of sleeping tablets because i feel so unsafe at work with the creepy predatory attitudes they demonstrated to me, and now i have to take time out of my working day to sit in a shithole clubhouse reeking of subpar buffet and watch these assholes straight up lie about their lti record when Im sat there FUCKING DEALING WITH A WORKPLACE INJURY TO MY MENTAL AND PHYSICAL HEALTH THAT THEY FUCKING CAUSED.

Fucking lying shitbags. Hope the septic tank explodes and they drown in feces.
froodle: (bitch)
I got an email today that the AW17 VoodooVixen collection is on sale now, and i clicked on it and was scrolling through the pretty dresses and BAM, MASSIVE ANXIETY SPIKE because shitty job's latest round of ridiculous fault finding has spoiled cute, retro fashion for me. And i dont want to spend any money on said dresses because they still havent given me real guidelines on exactly what im doing wrong, and my work wardrobe has lots of VV in and was fine for four and a half years until suddenly it wasnt, and THANKS FOR MAKING LOOKING AT PRETTY DRESSES A FUCKING PANIC INDUCER, SHITBAGS.
froodle: (bitch)
I had my drs appointment today. I said that i was looking for sleeping pills and anti-anxiety meds to basically get me through while i try to job hunt as i didnt want to be signed off at this stage, and she was like, can you tell me more about why you want these, and i explained and she was like, okay, i really, REALLY advise you to take sick leave because i have seen workplace stress before but rarely at this level.

I asked Mike to come in with me, because there were things I wanted to be sure to mention trigger warning ) and also in case I got too incoherent or upset he had a copy of my notes, and when I wouldnt get signed off for a couple of weeks the Dr asked him what he thought and he was like, I support her right to make her own choices but if it were up to me i wouldnt want her to set foot in that place again.

I explained that i didnt want to because of fear of reprisals and retaliation, and she was like, id like you to at least take two days off to let the meds take effect, and i agreed to that, and she was like but please think about taking an extended sick leave

So i have my tablets and im off til Tuesday with a doctors note and my medical file has all the details. I called the senior staffer on my team (terrible supervisor is on holiday this week) and let her know. I guess Ill see where I am after that.

Fucking Hell. All they had to do to avoid this was like... not bully me. Not sexualise or objectify or degrade me. All this because two people in a position of power cant keep their opinions about womens looks to themselves.
froodle: (bitch)
I feel afraid and like crying all the time. I havent left the house all weekend. Mike went out to meet his friend for coffee and i just lay under the duvet and shook with fear, waiting for him to come home.

I hate that i can be made to feel like this, for a shitty office job at a piece of crap company. I do my job well and without fuss and that has consistently not been enough to protect me from their bullying. And yet when the cycle starts up again, im surprised. They are incompetent managers, that much im sure of, but i kind of feel like im a fucking idiot for being blindsided by it.
froodle: (bitch)
Oh good, a panic attack. How nice after eighteen months without one, to see that all the trauma my shitty job installed has been waiting under the surface for them to start this bullshit again.

froodle: (bitch)
I tied my hair back because, IDK, I thought it would help me blend in more?

I feel so creeped out right now

I wish I hadn’t come in

Two different people both complimented my dress this morning

And instead of being like, “oh thank you”, I was sat there thinking “oh god please don’t draw any attention to me”

I can’t stop thinking about my body and how, while I’m sat here trying to do my job, someone is like “my boner has feelings about your legs, and my boner is important enough for me to go to your boss and your boss’s boss about it”

And my boss and my boss’s boss are both like, hmm, boner feelings, seems appropriate and also something *I* should be taking steps to control, because some random decided I was meat to be looked at and not a person, or an employee, or anything other than how my body makes them feel

I’m super uncomfortable and frightened and my anxiety is through the roof right now

I just want to draw a curtain around my corner so nobody can look at me and tell me all the vague non-specified but definitely inadequate ways I don’t measure up

And I’m looking around at what other people are wearing and I’m seeing bare arms and legs in tights and so I still don’t get it

And my skin crawls every moment I’m out in the office with the thought of who is looking at me
froodle: (bitch)
didnt realise how much of last week id spent hunched over clutching my stomach til i got better, went back to work, and found my back killing me from sitting normally in an office chair.

still, apparently i missed some epic nonsense from the departmental pain in the ass, so i think i still came out on top.
froodle: (bitch)
staying late at work to finish off a project because you want a clear desk tomorrow is a vastly different experience than staying late at work to finish every single thing that came in that day because you're being bullied and you dont want to hand the people makimg your life a misery another stick to beat you with.

i wish id known this a year and a half ago. fuck you direct debits.
froodle: (derpklaus)
I'm back.

Thank you to everyone who left comments of support on my last post. Without going into too much detail, it was unpleasant, and I had to step away from a lot of other things for a while, but I got through it and am currently feeling much better.

I really appreciate all the kind words and thoughts sent my way.
froodle: (derpklaus)
First day back at work after a week in Manchester,get called in to my supervisors office to be told, hooray, you got a 2k payrise. Which is less than HALF of the difference between what I make and what Danny does.

So, fine. I finished my day, came home, and emailed the whole case to the Equality Advisor. They had the chance to do the right thing, and instead they banked on their direct debit administrator being too dumb to know that two thousand pounds is not the same as five thousand pounds.

As of right now, I'm claiming backpay from October 2014, plus the difference in our monthly bonuses for the same period, and I'm job hunting. It would have been cheaper and easier for them to just pay a man and a woman the same, but go ahead, be idiots about this.

Fuck that place, fuck the people who run it, and fuck the people who work there that keep getting me confused with a woman whose first name starts with the same letter, but who works in a totally different department and whose last name is three full syllables shorter than mine, and keep calling me to tell me this or that person is mad because i promosed fo call them back last week and didnt.

No, fucktard, i wasnt even on the island last week, i did not arrange a meeting with someones social worker because HOW WOULD THAT EVEN COME UP IN MY JOB?!

So many people should just get killed.
froodle: (derpklaus)
Why is it that the stupider someone is, the morethey need to blame their idiocy on other people? Its not my problem that you dont know your bank account number, or that you are for some reason incapable of getting it from a debit card, a bank statement, your online banking, or the people you actually bank with. Im not reading your full bank details out to you over the phone, and im not sending a copy of the mandate to an address we dont have on file for you. I dont care how much you screech and scream that your bank is hard to get in touch with, especially since theyre a major highstreet bank with a branch in the town you live in.

I really hope it was an attempt at bank fraud, because the alternative is that this guy really was that fucking moronic, and that makes me die a litte inside.
froodle: (derpklaus)
i think ive mentioned before that my department at work consists of me and one other guy, who does the exact same job as me and gets paid 25% more than i do. Ive raised it at my last two six monthly appraisals, and the first time it was ignored, and the second time i was told if i wanted to get paid the same as a man doing the same job as me, i had to prove i deserved it.

And yeah, i probably should have left then, but i need to pay rent and stuff.

So my appraisal is next month, and ive reduced aged debt for my dept by 70% from where it was in august, and i got... an afternoon off and a bunch of vague promises to look at it in january but there are no guarantees, the budget may already be fixed, there might not be money...

I dont care if i have to go back to temping, if i dont get my salary increased to what danny makes, im handing my notice in. with the system problems, the migration failures, the constant crashes and lost data and the FUCKING BULLYING FROM CUSTOMER SERVICES, and being told i need to prove im good enough to pay what theyll pay a man, enugh is fucking enough.
froodle: (derpklaus)
im a day late and in completely the wrong country tp be doing thiz, but you know whatim grateful for? after 5pm tonight I dont have to be at work for TEN DAYS. ten days where shit just fails to be my problem. oh my god I am so excited. im literally going to bake cupcakes amd listen to weird old fifties radio plays the whole time.
froodle: (derpklaus)
I dont know if people actually get stupider and more worthless when danny's off, or if its just that when he isnt in im more acutely aware of how unbelievably dumb they are because I have twice as much work to do in the same number of hours and am more therefore sensitive to having my time wasted by inane queries from subliterate fucktards, or if their halfwittery simply isnt as bad when theres two of us to handle it, but ive spent the week yet again doing the job of two full-time employees and I am ready that burn that fucking shithole to the ground.

in any normal office, if you knew one person was covering a whole department by herself, you'd either do what you could to alleviate some of the pressure, or at least try not to add to it unnecessarily. not come flapping and faffing and bothering someone whose doing three things at once - three things, by the way, that involve BRINGING MONEY INTO THIS CESSPOOL OF A COMPANY SO IF YOU WANT TO GET PAID AT THE END OF THE MONTH MAYBE YOU SHOULD SHUT THE FUCK UP - because, OH NO, this bill looks weird.

I am not the billing department. actually, YOU'RE from the billing department. sit the fuck down and shut up.


he pays on a standing order. you can tell because next to each and every one of those payments, it says "standing order". try to read, you fucking moron.


do I actually have to tell you how to forward me a fucking email? it is not done verbally. go home, kill your children, then kill yourself.


This shit again? Really? Go fuck yourselves. As this was the supervisor of the person who pulled that stunt last time, and thetime before that, I guess now I know where it comes from. I am not a call centre. I do not have to be available to you and your staff of derpflids 100% of the time. Die in a fire.


Sure. The answer is, I hope you get raped by hornets. I'm leaving now, feel free to be hit by a car over the weekend, you fucking cunt.
froodle: (derpklaus)
still too upset and strung out to sleep. what is even the fucking point? I try so hard, and I actually do my job really fucking well, and its never enough to stop me getting shit all over and spending my birthday weekend depressed and numb and weepy underneath it.
froodle: (derpklaus)
Happy fucking birthday weekend, self.

You get to kickstart things by once again being the only full-time, fully trained up person in a department that needs a minimum of three people to run properly.

You get to be shit on for having the nerve to leave your desk in order to lock away confidential bank documents so that an idiot in customer services has to call your supervisor and complain in an attempt to foist a problem onto you.

You get the added bonus of being pulled away from your actual job to look at this so-urgent issue that turns out to be nothing to do with your department and is in fact a question about a gas bill, which, shocker, is a query for customer services!

You get to have an anxiety attack over said query, the fact that you weren't immediately available to deal with it, and the fact that customer services is complaining about you yet again, even though once again they are trying to have you do their job.

To counteract the terror you now feel, you get to work eleven hours straight with no lunch, and no breaks, and nothing to eat, trying to clear a three person workload because you can't deal with another round of "the reason you suck" backbiting directed at you from that team.

You get to clear that three person workload at the cost of watching a fireworks display with your partner, and go home late, alone, tearful, nauseous, and still feeling like shit about your work ethic.

You get to spend forty minutes crying in the shower about how utterly worthless and completely incapable of doing your job you are, even though you just did the work of three people in the hours of one and a half.

You get to retch saliva and toothpaste into your toilet bowl thinking about whether the other person on your team will be back on Monday, and how you'll cope if he isn't.

Happy birthday, and have a great fucking weekend tearing yourself to shreds in your panic, self! You absolutely deserve to feel like the useless bag of shit that you are, and the way you're being treated is completely acceptable!

September 2017

101112131415 16
17181920 212223
2425 2627 2829 30


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 18th, 2017 12:01 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios