Let’s stop for a moment and peruse the evidence thus far. Rita – who I saw a photo of the other day, just out of the blue, and she looked like Magda’s sweaty sex crazed wife in a neck brace, which made me inhale in shock and laugh all at the same time, kind of like inhaling porridge – was walked off the premises, the details of which are still sketchy. Kerin, who was employed to support Rita, only days before Rita’s demise, wanted to walk out into the traffic rather than return to the office, at the end of her tenure. I was bought into support Kerin, as she flailed and stalled like a light plane dropping from the sky, out of fuel. Mazz, who is sparklingly positive just naturally, was the great white hope, (viewed with suspicion from the outset by Kirin) however, she suffered an attack of the black dog, days after my first term was over, a month after she started. I was hastily called back to do some project work, during which time Mazz said that it was only me who made her laugh in the end, as she hung on by her fingernails. She got the hell out quickly, as she has a well developed sense of self, four months and she was done. So, yes, I can see the basis of the two man team claim, Kirin, I really can.
She keeps urging me to agree with her in discussions on the topic, again I am not really sure why. It leaves me a little baffled, and I keep thinking, surely she must have changed her thinking by now. How many of her staff have to have breakdowns? Is she blind? Distracted? Does one of them have to go hara-kiri in the middle of the office, slapping her in the face with their still warm intestines? Thwup! The blood splatter on the wall behind her to stand testament.
“You upset mate?”
“What makes you think…” They spit blood and drown on their own stomach acids.
“As long as you are okay.”
But no, she is back on message, her message. Today in our first talks exploring change with Fatty Snoop Cake Lady, when I walked into the room, Kirin was in full flight. Holding court.
“Poor Kerin couldn’t cope.” Kirin rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Mazz just wasn’t suited too it. Oh God!” She touched me on the arm and laughed her throaty laugh. “What is it you say she had? What is it?” Her beaming expectant gaze took on shades of mania. It made me shiver.
“Um” Don’t make me say it.
“Go on? Tell her? What was it you used to say? So funny.”
Really? “Um?” She was just organised.
“Oh come on.”
“O… C…D?” Mazz would kill me, it was a joke that she and I had.
“Ha!” Kirin cackled. “Yes. OCD. Yes. You make me laugh. Ha. Ha,” she said. “But it is only a two man job.” She reached across the table for Fatty Cake’s hand. “Really.” Fatty Cake pulled her hand away. She had a look on her face as thought she’d just discovered she’d soiled her panties.
“No, it is. Tell her it is,” said Kirin.
“Well…”
“It is.” Kirin insisted.
“Um.”
“No, it is,” she said.
But, what I say, what I always say is, If you fix the work flow problems, if you fix the internal customer problems, if you fix the fact that nobody else has to stick to a deadline except for us? And all our internal customers who just don’t give a shit, when is it ever going to be their fault. Managers, HR, the idiot staff? Who is going to make them follow procedure. If you support me, Kirin, maybe, it could be. If you, actually, do the things you say you are going to do? If... if... if... if all of the problems are fixed, yes, then maybe, I would agree with you that it could be a two person team.
But those things aren't fixed and it is not a two man team now. Shake of the head. This is the key issue of which everybody seems to be losing sight. Yes if, yes I suppose it could be, in the future I am kind of sure, yes, if you help and didn't spend all of your time on the internet/on Facebook/ on the phone to your children/telling your husband he's a fuckwad/are on a continual fucking email to your best friend Michelle, as Mazz claimed she was. If you didn't spend your time yapping to whoever will chew the fat with you.
So… in reality, it is hopeless.
As nice as she is, (I’m trying to sound convincing) if you don’t count the back stabbing… Kirin doesn't really get it. She attempts to help, or should I say, she gives lots of lip service to helping, but in reality even if she does help she never, actually, ever, finishes anything. I just look at her when she tells me for the umpteenth time that she didn't complete X, Y and Z.
“Oh, so you finished at X?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she says. “I got that far…”
I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head until only the whites were showing.
I keep waiting for the penny to drop, but it never does. Surely, if you actually tried for a third staff member all of our lives would be better? She doesn’t get it. I roll my eyes. I struggle to pick up the pieces she leaves unfinished. Thanks for the help, I think.
I direct her to do stuff now, I don’t hold back, this is survival baby. But Mazz and I both agreed that she is reluctant because she doesn’t really know how.
It is all a wing and a prayer with her. She does everything at the last minute, when the pressure is on. That is how she operates. And when it goes wrong, as it inevitably does, there is always someone to blame. Rita, Kerin, Mazz and no doubt me. And the world turns.
When Fatty Snoop Cake Lady first arrived, Kirin set up a new login for her. A fairy straightforward procedure, one would think. I'm not sure what planet Kirin was on, but she decided deleting all of the old logins, of all the people who are now collateral damage of her management, was a good idea. Let's not mention how that destroyed all the audit reporting. But, the biggest problem was that she managed to delete my login too. (Do you believe it? Mazz spat when I told her. It could only be called contempt. “You have to resign.”) Suddenly, I couldn't do any work.
"Oh, sorry. Ha ha,” Kirin said. “I don't know how I did that," Big eyes. Shrug.
I could make a suggestion.
Yesterday, I realised, that all of the automatic EOM reporting I set up went with my deleted login. Mazz and I set it up before she left. It took a couple of days, with Mazz advising, as Kirin doesn’t have a clue. All gone. The initial set up is a pain in the arse, but I figured I only had to do it once.
Ba! bar! Fail! I wanted to hurt her.
I needed my own logon once I went permanent. Everything I do relies on it. Kirin has had 6 weeks to set it up, with me reminding her constantly, but, somehow in Kirin's inimitable style, it didn’t get done. As usual, it was someone else’s fault.
“Those IT boys just aren’t helping me.” She said it like she actually believed it.
It finally got issued to me today, the day before my first deadline. The situation I so wanted to avoid. So, I have to get the recalcitrant IT department to set me up, which never works with the second rate systems not for profit have. I have to finalise my setup with the international money market provider and then, actually calculate and present all of the calculations up for international transfers on the day of my deadline.
Are you keeping up? I’m not sure that I am. Head spinning.
Kirin just doesn't really get it, this is never going to change. I guess, I know this. Even if all of the multitude of problems with this role were, actually, fixed, Kirin is still never going to get it. You can’t teach old dogs and all that. As long as it doesn’t turn into lying down with them…
So, what am I doing?
When I took the job, I was worded up by our boss, Remy, Paddington Bear, as Mazz and I called him, in his adorable duffle coat, for which he has a penchant – in the beginning, I wanted to slap the top of his head, like Benny Hill, he’s short and kind a cute. Now, I want to slap his face hard, like Bette Davis, more Baby Jane than Now Voyager, you understand.)
“I’m going to fix the problem. If it is Kirin, so be it,” said Remy. “It may not be particularly pleasant for the next few months. But if you hang on and support me, the job is yours, permanently.”
That is what I am doing. That is what you are doing, I tell myself… and I tell myself… and I tell myself again. (Shake of the head)
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