HR Rant

 

This week, at work, has been awful, and I do not specifically mean because I have been struggling to breathe, because of the humidity, or struggling to sleep in the heat with no air con or fan. I am struggling with how much of a hypocrite our HR lady, Amy, is.

On Monday morning, some of the manufacturers, where I work, asked Amy if they could work from 6am until 2:30pm (instead of our usual 7:30am until 4pm) the rest of the week, as they said that the director used to let them do that in the past, when there was a heatwave. Now bear in mind, the manufacturers jobs are only time sensitive on a day-to-day basis, not an hourly basis, so it would not really matter if their hours changed. Amy immediately said no. She was absolutely disgusted that anyone suggested changing their hours. She said that she didn’t understand why anyone could complain that they were hot or how anyone could possibly get hot, or hot enough to feel uncomfortable to work. Okay, so that manufacturers only sit down at their desks with soldering irons and electric screwdrivers. They aren’t crafting huge pieces of machinery. However, the building has no air conditioning and gets incredibly humid.

This put Amy in a very spiteful, nasty mood for the rest of the… I’m going to say week. When she spoke to anyone, she was snarling her nose and use a tone of disgust. She said that there weren’t any problems last year, when it was hot. She wouldn’t know, as she was on maternity leave. I told her that there were issues in the heat last year – she did not like that. I told her that we had to send three people to the hospital last year. One was a lady in her late 60s, who was suffering from dehydration and two other colleagues got hospitalised for kidney infections. Amy looked at me with the most disgusted look and said, “That can’t happen. What has kidney infections got to do with hot weather.” She refused to believe that two people could struggle with the same thing too. When I explained how you get a kidney infections she just snarled, “Drink more then.”

 

When the director came in, a little bit later on Monday morning, and Amy told him in absolutely disgust how dare people ask to work earlier hours and she suggested that he punish them with written warnings for trying to dictate to the company and the director how to run his business, he shrugged at Amy and said, “Yes, of course they can change their hours in the heat.” This did surprise me a little as our director is Scrooge. He also did not include this as a change of hours, like Amy insisted. Where I work, you can change your hours by an hour either side of your working day twice in a working year (for example of your child starts school and you need to start an hour later to drop them off, which means you now leave an hour late at the end of the day). The director said that the manufactures do not need to file a claims form to change their hours: this infuriated Amy too.

 

Amy made sure that none of the office staff were allowed to change hours, though. She said to the director, “The office staff have fans.” The fan is palm sized and plugs into the mains. The manufacturers also have these and some of them have mini desk air coolers and they have two shutters open to let cool air in. The manufacturing shop floor is a lot cooler downstairs than what it is for the office staff upstairs. But anyway, Amy got her own way.

Amy went on a huge rant about how no one is be allowed to complain that it is hot. There is no way that being at work can be too uncomfortable. If anyone was to complain about the heat, she was going to give them a written warning for being disrespectful and whining.

 

By Monday afternoon, our office was 30 degrees. From 12:30pm, she complained that she had a headache and was too hot and didn’t feel very well. I told her that she had to be careful in the heat and her headache was likely from dehydration. Her response was, “I am drinking. I’ve drunk a carton of juice.” This is a 200ml carton. She had drunk that by that time I had drunk 1,500ml of water.

For a 37 year old who has an 18 year old and an 18 month old, she really doesn’t know a lot about anything. She has had a punnet of grapes open on her desk since Monday and has not put them back in the fridge. Nor has she washed them. She lives off Coca Cola. She thinks that drinking a 500ml bottle of Coca Cola is enough to drink for the entire day. She struggles to drink that! Her diet, like many at work, consists of either a McDonalds breakfast every day or a greasy full English breakfast, from a local café. At lunch she either has McDonalds, fish and chips, Subway or she brings in a chilled or frozen microwave meal from a shop on her way to work and leaves it in her bag under her desk until lunch time, when she puts it in the microwave. If she ever brings in a 1,500ml of Volvic flavoured water, she leave the bottle open for the entire week, with barely drinking half of it and then instead of pouring the water away on a Friday, she puts the lid on and then puts it in the bin. And people tell me off if I am ever seen eating a Belvita biscuit or for having a tiny lunch box sized packet of Lidl’s version of Maryland cookies, where you get six tiny biscuits in it. I am always being judged for what I eat, but she never is.

On Tuesday, our office got to 33 degrees. And she spent the entire day complaining that she was too hot and that she couldn’t breathe. She was angry and shouting at people wanting to know why it was so hot. The rest of us just sucked it up and carried on.

She called in sick on Wednesday, because she said it was too hot and she had to spend the day driving around to find an air con unit for her home, because her home was over 34 degrees in every single room and her toddler couldn’t sleep. I am sorry, but there is no way that her house could be 34 degrees. I live in a maisonette, with three outside walls. The sun is directly on the back (the kitchen and bathroom) all morning and I have no blind fitted to the over-one-metre-long kitchen window. The sun is on the front of the property (the living room and bedroom) from 3pm until it sets,  to the point where the sun sets directly in line with my bedroom. My windows, blinds and curtains are closed all day long. The only electricity I have on is my fridge and when I charge me phone. There is lots of concrete in my maisonette, as that’s how flats are built, to sound-proof them. I also have a non-insulated roof. My maisonette has been 77% humidity and I have been struggling to breathe. I have no fan and no air conditioning. I still go to work. At work, on Wednesday, our office got up to 34 degrees with three tower PCs running, with six monitors, and four small fans circulating the hot air. That is how you get a room to 34 degrees. She was just plucking a stupidly big number out of the air to hope that is sounded believable to not have to come into work. She had already told the goods-in team that she was going to call in sick on Wednesday and needed a believable excuser and was asking them for one on Tuesday afternoon.

She only came into work yesterday because she had a half day for the doctors. Another hypocritical thing – she tells people off for not rearranging doctors’ appointments for the first or last appointment of the day and for having to take time off work for an appointment, but she left at 1pm for her doctor’s appointment. Anyway, the office was 33 degrees from the get go and all she did was boast about her air conditioning unit, at home, and complain that the office shouldn’t be allowed to be open in the heat and it was ridiculous that the director had the air conditioning units cut the day he bought the property, and he had the ceiling boxed in around the units. When I asked why he had done that to the air conditioning units weeks ago, to try to understand, she praised the director for his smart money making thoughts and said air conditioning was stupid, and you didn’t need to waste that sort of money in this country, and there is no way that staff are entitled to something so silly. And now, she is complaining that we don’t have air conditioning.

 

On Thursday afternoon and today, the office got to 35 degrees, and today, all she did weas complain. She spent most of the day away from her desk. I spent so much time at my desk that even after drinking 3 litres before midday, I still felt unwell. I was allowed to sit outside for two minutes maximum, but that wasn’t really long enough. My right eye went twitchy, and still is, and I kept going shaky and no matter how much water I drank, it didn’t ease it by much. I didn’t complain and I still carried on working. I haven’t slept for longer than two hours on any night this week, because it is too humid. I have not complained once.

I cannot stand two faced, hypocritical people. They get me so angry.

I really am regretting using the last of my good spell candle ingredients doing a big tray spell for her, when her husband was threatening to divorce her. It is all beginning to feel like it was all for show. I found out today that she loves getting attention from people.

Anyway, it is now 9pm and I have had my balcony door open for the past four hours, since the breeze began I have all of my windows open and the humidity has finally dropped. I no longer feel tight chested and panicky. I will, hopefully, sleep for the first time in a week. It has taken me hours to finally feel comfortable and now it to too late to be creative.

I have all of my washing done, and it has dried indoors within a couple of hours I had wanted to write some poems for tomorrow, but I am going to try to get some sleep. Just because I know that I cannot cope being in situationships, because they are too mentally abusive and no one has ever wanted a relationship with me (I know there must be something wrong with me, I’m not delusional and think that it is constantly everyone else, I must jut be unlovable), I can still feel upset about what would have been special days. I really did want to be with someone and treat them with love and kindness and that they are my priority, and I secretly wanted that back. I am not wrong for missing all of the good things, despite not being able to cope with all of the mentally abusive things. I will be busy all day tomorrow and Sunday, so I will have no time for Peter 2.0. Oh, but I am really enjoying finally using my mint-green typewriter keyboard. I love it. I finally feel cooled down and my heartrate has lowered to the mid-seventies.

Goodnight universe. I am very grateful for my imagination, creativity and for all of the love Cuddles, Ducky and Snuffles have filled my life with. People may hurt me, but I will always have my teddies.

 

- Josie -

So Vain

 

Writing about stupidity
Of the people that I know,
It surprises me that often
People feel attacked so.
But the poems and the ranting
Are not quite who they think.
The ego on some people
Would make the Titanic sink.
Don’t reply in anger
With words so full of hate,
When it’s often about my colleagues
Or some random, failed date.
The vanity amuses me,
Specifically by two,
Who assume that my whole life
Still revolves around you.

- Josie -

Rain Forever

 It is currently torrential downpouring outside. I am sat at my desk, with just under half an hour to go until work starts. This is not a rant or a therapy piece of writing. This is just me declaring that I wish it would rain constantly every single day for at least the rest of the year, maybe even forever. Everything is better on rainy days. There are less stupid people out walking. No noisy people running, trying to trip people over. Parks are empty. There’s no screaming kids. Even the drug addicts don’t beg you for money to continue funding their habit. It isn’t as fun getting my daily exercise in the pouring rain and I hate the texture of wet clothes, but I think there are a lot more positives that if it were hot or sunny. Dear universe, please, can you make it rain every single day for the rest of the year. I do think that the greenery and wildlife are in need of a lot of water as well. Alternatively, if we can make it illegal for people to be noisy, disrespectful, rude and just congregate in public places that would be much appreciated. And no to whatever stupid bot is reading this, I am not being 100% serious, and I do not think that by asking the universe to do something for me that I have almighty powers and think I am better than everyone else or whatever rubbish nonsense people are going to craft from a harmless little note of me saying that I just like the rain right now and I wish that it would continue. Gen Z and bots just don't understand whimsy writing - nor do some thirty-something-year-olds who really do act like Gen Z - ugh!

- Josie - 

Not Having A Partner Apparently Means I Don't Exist And I Have No Human Rights

 
Up until where I work now, I have never worked for a company where it was acceptable for someone else to call in sick on your behalf. If you are sick, you should be the one to phone in sick. The only exception is if you are in the hospital. Well, where I work your husband or wife is allowed to call in sick for you, and if your husband or wife works at the company you do not have to call in sick at all, and your partner does not have to tell management that you are off sick, unless someone asks. There was a discussion about this today that got me very angry. I said that if you are sick, you should be the one to call in sick. Then HR and the Works manager started going on about people who have phone anxiety, and how they shouldn’t be made to call in sick. I have phone anxiety. I always come into work when I am sick, because I can’t phone in sick. Then HR said that you shouldn’t have to call in sick yourself, because what if you were asleep. I said, you get up yourself and you phone in sick. HR then replied, “But everyone has someone that can call in for them, even Darren,” (Darren is the only person in the company who is divorced, but he lives with his friend). I wanted to kill her. So, I don’t exist then? I am not a human being. I already know that I am not allowed to take any days off, because I am not spending it with my family, my spouse or my child, but now I don’t count as a person because I don’t have a wife or a husband to call in sick for me, I am trying to leave this company. I have been trying since January, but over the past few days, being here has got me so angry, I wish it was legally acceptable to kill someone, because blood would be shed. I don’t think I have ever been more angry. Because I am choosing to not have a partner, why do I lose my human rights? Why am I less of a person? I am not an angry person, but I am so incredibly angry that you could cook food on me and it would burn to a crisp.

 

Middle-Class Snobs
Maybe my relationship problems all stem from dating middleclass people. I come from a very lower working class background of parents on benefits, no to little work, scrounging for pennies for food, bills being paid on credit cards, so that we have electricity, only being allowed the heating on if the building gets below 9°C, constantly moving and renting, not owning any of my own clothes until starting college at 16 years old, never being able to afford to go to an after school club or have a hobby. We didn’t have family computer or the internet until 2008 and even then it was an ex-display laptop that my nan got and she paid for the broadband bill. I am not saying any of this for sympathy. I really don’t think that there was anything wrong with my upbringing. That was my normal. What I struggle with is having friends or a partner.
          I am nothing like my family. I work hard, I own my own maisonette, I go to work every single day, even when I feel poorly and so overwhelmed that I cry all day. I treat everyone equally and with respect. I do not want to be like my lower working-class family. I find that I gravitate more towards working-middle-class people when I form relationships. Part of the reason why things don’t work is simply because the other person’s idea of normal is very, very different from mine. Seeing your friends regularly is not normal – although I do think this is more of an immature thing too, not just a middle-class thing. As most people I know were married by 23-years-old, but immature relationships are a rant for a different time. My point is, a lot of people think that you should be seeing people, and going to restaurants or the cinema or the theatre multiple times a year. To me that is completely insane. Why would people be wasting so much money? There is rent or a mortgage and bills to think about. And that is another thing – the number of people I have dated that do not know that you have to pay a rent applications fee to enquire about renting – that doesn’t mean you will be successful. You usually have to spend £250-£500 just to hand I your application form, which is why most people rent from family and friends, but I never had family or friends to rent from. I have spent over £2,500 applying to rent places in the past and I was unsuccessful for every single place. Luckily some people I dated understood this, but a few didn’t and it shocked me how they didn’t realise how good they had it.
          The poshest place in the midlands was named, and surprise, surprise, my last ex-partner comes from there. They never understood how lucky they had things. They were completely oblivious to money struggles – thinking that they were hard done by. It blew my mind when they really didn’t understand how renting with multiple people under one rent agreement worked and that every household member does not necessarily have their own individual contract with the landlord, one designated person does, so me sending my partner-at-the-time money for rent, despite the three of us living in the rented maisonette is the exact same thing as them living with a friend and sending them money. Mortgage brokers see it as the same time. Your life has not been ruined, because you don’t have a cushy-cushy rent-free life at your parents’ house. Another thing they did not seem to understand is room sizes – they thought a three-bedroom house that could easily house five uni students, was too small. He thought that a huge one-bedroom ex-council flat was small. It is a mansion compared to what I have been used to my whole life. It is way too big for me.
          So, not only do I not cope with the mental abuse that comes with relationships, but I also should never have dated someone in a higher social class than what I was brought up, as we will never agree on anything. It’s a good job I never want to date again. Middle-class people can be infuriating and disgusting. They do not understand how good they have it, how well off they are, and they still think the world owes them and that they are allowed to complain.

I asked to take half a day off work, on Thursday, and I was told by HR, “You can’t, but I can, because I am the only person who can work from home.” One, that was incredibly mean, and two, I don’t want half a day off work to work from home. I really just wanted half a day off work for me. Anyone who has a husband, wife or fiancée/fiancé is allowed to have time off work. So why can’t I? You have to declare why you need the time off, when you fill out a holiday form, and yes, this is a handwritten piece of paper. Last year, I had days off for British Gas appointments and to do work on my maisonette, to make it liveable – those were valid reasons, but my workplace doesn’t accept wanting to have time off for me as a reason. There is only one other person who doesn’t have a partner. They are divorced and they have never been granted time off either, apart from an upcoming date, when their daughter is returning from Italy. So I need to add a requirement of having a child in order to get a day off too. I am not going on holiday to visit family or to spend time with my spouse or my child, which are the only valid reasons, apart from a medical appointment to book a day off, but it’s not fair. My experiences with dating have made me never, ever want a relationship ever again – I cannot cope with the mental abuse. I never ever want a physical relationship with anyone ever. I will never date a man ever again, but women are so catty, spiteful and demanding that I never want to date a woman again either. I never want children. I do not want to adopt a child that I will never like just to be allowed to have a day off work, because I am then a mother. Why can’t being a teddy bear mum be enough of a reason to be allowed to take time off work. I will be sat at my desk in ten hours and the thought of that makes me cry.

Losing Your Dreams

Three dreams of mine have all been ruined in a very small space of time. It is going to take a long time to get over these and to feel okay again. When something has been your life dream for as long as you can remember, having to give it up feels both hard and scary. I am literally losing part of my identity.

I have always wanted to be a writer, for as long as I can remember. Even in primary school, when we had to write sentences for our spelling homework, I was writing stories. Now that I have my own place, since January, I have been looking into making this dream a reality. I have been researching into literary agents and publishers that that produce a similar type of fiction to what I write. I have learnt that the publishing world is incredibly different now to what it was ten years ago. Audiences don’t care as much for the story as they do the person behind it. It matters more to readers to be able to interact with their author through social media, for the authors to travel more, to meet their audience, do more conventions etc. That all starts with having an audience, and literary agents won’t take you on if you don’t have a presence on social media. I did have social media. I started an Instagram account back in March, in hopes of re-finding three online friends that I had during lockdown, before Elon Musk bought Twitter. I found them and it was so nice to be back in touch with them again. I discovered a whole community of females my age with the same type of sensory autism. I found a community of women my age encouraging each other to get out there with their writing and offering each other tips and tricks to work with literary agents. I had to leave all of that behind for two reasons. An ex messaged me that he was reading my thoughts online and spitefully misinterpreting everything. He was incredibly malicious about it and it made me want to remove his connection to me, which was through my Instagram account. I, also, had a huge safety breach, where a complete stranger was able to provide my full name and full address to the emergency services, for a well-being check. No one knows my address, not even work. I cannot receive post at my address, so my workplace still have my mum’s address. Someone that I do not know, said that they know me, claimed to be my friend and, after looking me up online, somehow managed to get my full address. That is absolutely terrifying. Someone that I do not know thinks they are my friend and knows my full name and where I live. I cannot have a social media account, because my safety is now at risk. Without a social media account literary agents don’t accept new writers. So now I have to let go of my dream of writing. I really thought that this year was going to be the year that I tried. Instead, I am now scared for my safety.

The scary stranger safety risk also means that I have to sell my maisonette. I am absolutely devastated. I finally own my own place, I have painted every room, I have a brand new kitchen fitted, I have hung up shelves in various places and I have hung up my canopy in my reading nook, and now I have to give it up. I am going to have to find somewhere to rent and just keep moving forever, which I know isn’t that bad. I don’t need to own my own home, as I do not have children to pass the property down to. I know I can never find somewhere under £130,000 again. I love my home. It is mine. It is, I would say, around 95% sensory autism friendly. I have one neighbour below me, no one above me, no one beside me. It is as close to a detached home as someone on just less than £30,000 could afford. I am terrified to leave my home, in case the stranger who thinks we are friends is watching me. I am terrified to be home, knowing that a stranger knows me and where I live. I don’t know if they are physically watching me. All I know is they claimed to be my friend and knew me from online. Friends, from work, are taking it in turns to take me out to places, so that I am hardly ever home – to be on the safe side. But then I fear that this person might break in, somehow, if I am constantly out. They are the ones who said that I have to sell it though. They are right. A stalker who thinks we are friends could cross any safety boundary. Another fear is that prior to owning my own maisonette, I spent over £2,500 applying to properties to rent. Estate agents are quick enough to take your application fee, but some of them say they don't pass single people's applications over to the landlord, for financial stability reasons. I don't have a guarantor either, as my Mum doesn't own her own home, so finding somewhere to rent has been feeling like an impossible mission lately.

The third crushed dream is accepting that I will never have a partner. Growing up, my home life was not safe. There was no love. There was no calm. Things were often quite scary, for a young child. All I have ever wanted is to have that safety. I don’t need someone to look after me, to do things for me, to pay bills for me, to take me places or anything like that. I feel safe on my own. I feel happy on my own. I love my own company and I will be content being completely alone forever. But what I always wanted was to just know that someone was there, who loves me and won’t just get up and walk away one day. I want to know that someone loves me just as much as I love them. Someone I can cuddle after a long day, who wants to make dinner together, spend time together. Someone who I can be there for if they have a bad day. I want someone who doesn’t want drama, to always host, to always be visiting people or off travelling somewhere. I have accepted that I am too old. There isn’t going to be anyone out there around 35 years old who has never been married and doesn’t have any children, who isn’t single because they are an avoidant/emotionally immature. I don’t want someone who thinks that me asking if they are okay is me being emotionally unstable. I want someone who knows that I love and care deeply and I want to know that they are okay. I am sick of both men and women who do not want you to act like you love them or you care about them, but they want the level of physical intimacy that comes with it. If I am asking if you are okay, it is because I love and care about you and I genuinely want to know that you are okay. If I don’t love you and don’t care about you, I won’t ask you how your day was, how you are feeling and if you are okay. I won’t care if I don’t hear from you for several days or weeks at a time, but news flash, I also won’t want to cuddle you, kiss you or anything more with you. The only people who genuinely want a loving relationship will already be in one long before turning 35. Rather than be with someone who only wants a situationship, I would rather be alone forever. I am mentally stable when I am alone. I am happy when I am alone. I can do things when I am alone. As I mentioned above, I have friends, from work, who have been spending time with me, we have been to Stratford-upon-Avon, Leamington Spa, the witchcraft shop I have been wanting to go into for over twenty years, we have been to the Think Tank, YO! Sushi and a Weatherspoon’s. I have Manchester and the Sea-Life Centre on the cards for this weekend, which Snuffles and I are really looking forward to. I don’t need a wife or a husband to get through life, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to love someone and care about someone, and to feel loved and cared for back.

I just feel very lost right now. It is like part of my identity has been taken away. I am very much against people who change their personality, but when three huge parts of who you are have to be taken away from you… I don’t really have the words. Empty and lost are all that spring to mind.

- Josie -