During a brief period of unemployment in the early 1970s, I would greatly look forward to the weekends like ordinary working people. I didn't have to feel guilty you see.
So it's Friday today, and the manager is very quiet. I'm not surprised - he has to account for his whereabouts and activities EVERY HALF AN HOUR. I'm not kidding, he has A4 sheets of paper with the day marked out on a grid, divided into half hour sections. 16 columns which have to be filled in, otherwise he does not get paid. This is no job for a gentleman.
Now you know why I am glad I did not get a retainer for this place, and why I am starting to look for other baskets in which to put my eggs.
F..K OFF! - Now I am not all Julie Andrews when it comes down to a good swear, but I do think that there is a time and a place for expletives to be unleashed! The odd...
3 hours ago