This will come as no surprise to you who have been reading this journal for the last few months: I think I'm very near to cracking. You've seen my entries about the hellish commute, the work pressure and the intractability of my manager, respectlessly referred to as Jobsworth, and you will know that I have steadily been losing it for some time now.
Today, all public transport personnel in and around Amsterdam is on strike. Which meant that the trains, which were running according to schedule, were overcrowded in the extreme. Which meant that my train into work broke down, a happenstance that caused me to be late coming into the office. Late as in 1 hour late. Do you think that Jobsworth, who knew of the strike and who knows very well what my situation is as far as my dependency on public transport is concerned, reacts to this with understanding and compassion? Of course not. He insists I stay behind tonight to make up for the lost hour of productivity. Realistically, how productive do you think I am going to be after our heated little discussion of just now?
I've made up my mind: first thing tomorrow, I'm going to see my GP, tell him I'm stressed out of my skull, and see if he won't prescribe complete and utter rest for the remainder of the week at least.
Today, all public transport personnel in and around Amsterdam is on strike. Which meant that the trains, which were running according to schedule, were overcrowded in the extreme. Which meant that my train into work broke down, a happenstance that caused me to be late coming into the office. Late as in 1 hour late. Do you think that Jobsworth, who knew of the strike and who knows very well what my situation is as far as my dependency on public transport is concerned, reacts to this with understanding and compassion? Of course not. He insists I stay behind tonight to make up for the lost hour of productivity. Realistically, how productive do you think I am going to be after our heated little discussion of just now?
I've made up my mind: first thing tomorrow, I'm going to see my GP, tell him I'm stressed out of my skull, and see if he won't prescribe complete and utter rest for the remainder of the week at least.
- Current Mood:
drained
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Comments
I'm sorry :(
I bet he has car, git.
I'm sure these people are bred specially. I had a supervisor who I continuely locked horns with because she had no people skills (on a management level anyway) and had no idea how to do her job. I notice these people overly rely on figures because they don't understand/can't control anything else. You can imagine our delight when she turned up one day blind drunk and was suspended!
Fingers crossed the doc can help.
I do hope they won't try and persuade me to go on anti-depressants, though. I've got very strict ideas about that sort of thing.
*sigh*
Next item on my list...
The locum standing in for my GP this morning didn't seem to helpful at first, but now that I've had time to mull over his comments, I think he was right. He said I exhibited classic symptoms of an imminent breakdown, but that since it was clearly all work-related I would be better off discussing things with my company doctor (who I'd discussed things with before and who advised me to consult my GP). He would be happy to do a bloodtest to rule out any possibility of me coming down with something and blaming it on exhaustion by mistake, but he didn't think it was really necessary; and the only other thing he could do for me, he said, was prescribe me some anti-depressants and they wouldn't do any good in the long run.
Came home, and the phone was ringing off the hook. Jobsworth - what the fuck I thought I was playing at not showing up for work on time twice in a row now? When I explained that I'd just seen my doctor and was, in his considered opinion, on the verge of a nervous breakdown or quite clearly suffering from burn-out, he said he thought I must have some private worries because it was simply inconceivable that it was work-related, and what time could he expect me? I told him where to go, rang the company doctor for an appointment in two weeks, and made it clear that I wouldn't be reporting for duty this week at all. Then, I sat down and had a good cry.
Stick to your guns. Take the time off and don't speak to him, don't give him the satisfaction of venting his spleen. Do you have a union, because this is sounding like vicitimisation. The man clearly has personal problems or issues with confident and powerful women. You've been with HP for so long, and you've done so well, has it not occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, something has changed recently at work that is causing you this grief? Like him turning up maybe?
Sorry, I'm very, very angry on your behalf. Which doesn't help, does it. Take your time off, come and chill out for a few days in Blighty, go and talk honestly to your company doctor and if you have one, see your union rep. You shouldn't have to put up with this.
Thanks love, that's sweet, but there's no need. I'll come and see you in a few days and maybe cry on your shoulder a bit, but mostly I'm just trying to forget all about work and Jobsworth and chill.
My friends will be the financial ruin of me -- Caroline's just saying she won't mind if instead of spending a day traipsing through Manchester with her, I decide to follow CoRo up to Scotland.
CoRo next week should sort me out a bit, I think...