Chronicles from the cat

Work-related stress costs society between £3.7 billion
and £3.8 billion a year (1995/96 prices).

If this is the 1996 prices of work related stress then I think you can reasonably add another million to this in the year 2008.

The question is. What difference has this report commissioned by the HSE made to the worker. In my consulting room I hear stories of lots of people that are working 80 hour weeks.
I am a member of a group of people who have been bullied in the workplace. Why exactly is it that employers seem to be taking no apparent notice of these guidelines simply wanting to get as much out of each employee that they can, so that they can maintain their foothold in the marketplace. Easy! It’s not compulsory. It’s just a recommendation. An ideal to be worked towards (or not, as the case may be). The HSE has drafted a wonderful document filled with wonderful standards of behaviour in the workplace between employer and employee and it has about as much practical use as a chocolate tea pot.

For my own part I can say that my experience does not bear out the philanthropic ideals espoused in this document. Why not? Well let’s just take each one at a time. I supposed to contextualise I should give my story some times, places, names and other details. So here I go.

Chronicals of the cat.

In a sleepy village called boot, in the rural country of Sheepshire there was a very powerful man. This man was the head of the largest college in the whole of the county. So powerful was he that he was visited by Royalty and government officials alike. Now, such was this mans disposition that he enjoyed being visited by those respected people, he felt that by virtue of their visit he most be a very important man in deed, this made him habit and made him bounce up and down on his toes, which occassionaly made him look like a bouncing clown, although for the most part her was oblivious to this.. This man had a vast number of Vice Principals and Managers working for him, and he had a board of governors from some of the most decorated soldiers in her Majesties Empire On regular occassions this powerful man would hold meetings for all of his employees and they would gather in a large sports hall and be shown mighty presentions outlining the new plans for the next financial year. Accolades would be passed out and when it was all over, the employees went into another large hall and ate some of the Masters food, prepared by his cooks and porters. One of the most memorable meetings was held in the year in which he received his OBE, on that occasion he feel enormously proud of himself and proclaimed it openly to all those who could spare the time to listen, not that they had much choice in the matter. He was after all a very important man. Let me introduce you to Bigfus Boingboing. A very important man indeed.

Now his second in command was a strange female called Anngri Slipiss. I say strange because she was the type who would dress up in tight skirts and blouses and strappy sandals all year round and yet beneath that Princess Tippee Toes exteria there was a Baracuda waiting to strike. Magpies and Barracudas share one thing in common, they are both attracted to shiny things and Miss TT was to seen proudly parking her audi TT in the disabled bay of the college or in one of the parking slots reserved form the automotive team who were so enamoured with her that had no resistence to giving her car a good servicing. Now and again they even got one or two students to give it a wash and brush over.

These two between them, although not excluding the other two VP’s Ellis Jameson and Thatcher Brix, devised a plan whereby they could build the college (which secretly Old Boingboing thought of as his own castle) into a bigger and bigger place. Financing more and more buildings and spreading it assets over tens of acres of land. How they were going to do this was quite a curious thing. One which will take a lot of explaining.