I read an article yesterday which pointed out the little known fact that today's teachers are failing our yoof because they themselves are almost illiterate. This added to the fact that so as not to upset the little darlings, no teacher is allowed, (by whom - Education Policy makers I guess?), to indicate poor grammar by marking their work with a red pen.
This reminded me of a Manager I had a few years ago. As I was obviously more intelligent and better educated than she was, she viewed me with suspicion from day one. As if I would want to fight her for her lousy job, I don't think so! Anyway, determined to break me, she wrote a damming assessment of my performance every month during my probationary period. Having sussed her motives early on I kept copies of each one for the Employment Tribunal I looked forward to taking her to if the going got rougher.
As you can imagine, I took great delight in marking every one of her spelling mistakes and grammatical faux pas with an enormous red felt tip. Unfortunately I never did have my day in court as I secured a (slightly) better job and escaped from her psychotic clutches but not before passing my probation with flying colours I'm pleased to say.
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
Happy Retirement
Earlier this year I resigned from my part-time post as a customer services advisor for a Government Department, in other words, a Call Centre Operative. Apart from the usual overworked and underpaid excuses, it was probably the worst in a long line of dumbed down jobs specifically created for an increasingly hard to please market, that is, the over fifties. There were naturally younger, more able and presumably more intelligent staff working there but they were sadly of the transient variety waiting for a vacancy to arise in their chosen higher profile careers. You know the sort I mean - artists, engineers, politicians!
I decided not just to resign but to retire early, as God forbid I might actually have to admit that the big SIX-O is fast approaching. Besides, I couldn't stand the "work" a moment longer. Every job I've had the misfortune to land in the last five years, (and there's been a few), has made the previous one look almost interesting. Have you seen what's on offer in the Situations Vacant Columns these days? 'Multi-skilled Energy Assessor', 'Community Development Worker', 'Relief Multidrop Driver' (for a vehicle with digital tacho). Strewth! These are just a sample from my local paper this week and just reading the job description and person specification makes me come out in a nervous rash. Why should I have to be able to demonstrate that I can remain calm under pressure and work effectively with difficult/demanding people? Such people shouldn't be allowed out in polite society - surely?
Nevertheless, I've begun to question whether it really is the employment market that has deteriorated or could it be that I am fast approaching the Victor Meldrew stage of life? I'd heard the rumours of course, but didn't want to believe that once you pass fifty you become virtually invisible, especially if you're female. That could explain why at previous staff meetings, just as I passed the sweaty palm stage and plucked up the courage to add my penny worth, my Line Manager would nod politely, noting my valuable contribution. Alas, too late, the double glazed look in his eyes succeeded in shutting me up only to allow the pretty blonde twenty something offer her far more pertinent comments.
Don't you think it strange that just as the Government announces that school leavers today will have to continue working until their seventieth birthdays before retiring, more over fifties are finding it almost impossible to secure a job worthy of their considerable talents? It's enough to make school leavers roll back under the duvet, (well at least until next signing on day). This must be the first time in history where the elders of the tribe have found that wisdom accumulated through a long and satisfying working life has been binned in favour of the ideas belonging to bright young things still wet behind the ears.
Still, mustn't grumble, there's always a spot of voluntering for those past their prime, but that's an entirely different kettle of fish to be mulled over at a later date.
I decided not just to resign but to retire early, as God forbid I might actually have to admit that the big SIX-O is fast approaching. Besides, I couldn't stand the "work" a moment longer. Every job I've had the misfortune to land in the last five years, (and there's been a few), has made the previous one look almost interesting. Have you seen what's on offer in the Situations Vacant Columns these days? 'Multi-skilled Energy Assessor', 'Community Development Worker', 'Relief Multidrop Driver' (for a vehicle with digital tacho). Strewth! These are just a sample from my local paper this week and just reading the job description and person specification makes me come out in a nervous rash. Why should I have to be able to demonstrate that I can remain calm under pressure and work effectively with difficult/demanding people? Such people shouldn't be allowed out in polite society - surely?
Nevertheless, I've begun to question whether it really is the employment market that has deteriorated or could it be that I am fast approaching the Victor Meldrew stage of life? I'd heard the rumours of course, but didn't want to believe that once you pass fifty you become virtually invisible, especially if you're female. That could explain why at previous staff meetings, just as I passed the sweaty palm stage and plucked up the courage to add my penny worth, my Line Manager would nod politely, noting my valuable contribution. Alas, too late, the double glazed look in his eyes succeeded in shutting me up only to allow the pretty blonde twenty something offer her far more pertinent comments.
Don't you think it strange that just as the Government announces that school leavers today will have to continue working until their seventieth birthdays before retiring, more over fifties are finding it almost impossible to secure a job worthy of their considerable talents? It's enough to make school leavers roll back under the duvet, (well at least until next signing on day). This must be the first time in history where the elders of the tribe have found that wisdom accumulated through a long and satisfying working life has been binned in favour of the ideas belonging to bright young things still wet behind the ears.
Still, mustn't grumble, there's always a spot of voluntering for those past their prime, but that's an entirely different kettle of fish to be mulled over at a later date.
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