Gosh, this is turning into quite the HR-bashing blog.. Oh well, they hAD to make it so easy :)
Last Thursday, HR closed the poll on whether we are to have "mineral" or "distilled" water supplied to us.
Apparently out of the 530 staff in the office, 113 prefer distilled water while 97 preferred mineral, summing up with "The rest of you obviously drink whatever we provide."
Recount? Out of the question, it was a landslide. Paper cups will now be available for the rest of you next to the washroom sink.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
I'm back and you're stuck with it
It is a universal truth. Countries and borders, geograpahy and races, laws and history, are all meaningless in the unifying singular force that is EVIL, and they can be found in every organisation, establishment, body corporate - incorporated or unincorporated, in the back office that is Human Resource, where souls get chivvied off at the pointy end of pitch forks to suffer in every small way for all eternity.
Here are the three stories of ours.
Story Number One
The nation, oops, beg pardon, The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China (please imagine patriotic marches and stern salutations as you read this out loud, thank you for your attention) has recently moved towards 5-day working weeks (it's quite amazing, I never would've thought that a nation, oops, beg pardon, The Hong Kong Special Adminisarghhfuccckkyougetthebloodyidea, would collectively stand up and say, "let's allow our people to be lazier. Go on, you've all been working yourselves too hard, have one on me" but right they did and here we go. Our firm, grudgingly and hesitatingly as it did, finally sucked in a deep breath and proclaimed, by edict of The Managing Partner, that the World of Wahbert shall henceforth only be operational from 8.30am to 5.30pm MONDAY to FRIDAYS (only, both days inclusive, for the avoidance of doubt).
Followed by a timed 2 beats, an email from the chief troll of HR:
"If you have applied for leave on Saturdays, the half-day will be credited back to your annual leave entitlement. TO THOSE OF YOU who have tendered your resignation(imagine green skin sharp teeth and senegalese soccer victory dance around a fire accompanied by shrieks and cackling) the above does not apply. The privilege only applies to those who remain (loyal) to the firm (Hah, bet you're sorry you resigned now, QuiTtEr, lOOoosERr) (No, dear HR, not really, you can take your half a day and shove it, we're really glad to be going) (but HR only hears the sweet sound of its self-indulgent sense of justice being served, hence the last words, hence
Victory).
Story Number Two
Another email from HR:
"In the coming hot summer months, we adopt a smart casual dress code here in the World of Wahbert. By smart casual we mean SMART. And by that, we mean no jeans, no faded jeans, no ripped jeans, no t-shirts, ABSOLUTELY no t-shirts without collars, no shorts, no miniskirts, no strapless tops, no tubes, no sneakers, no runners, no sportsshoes, no slippers, no thongs..." Oh for, I think I'll just wear a suit.
Story Number Three
Performance Review
It is that time of the year where the powers that be sit across a table the size of France from you from a position of slight levitated height so that they can stare down and secretly call you a chipmunk before you walk through that door. You know that door, the one with a sign that says "Final Judgment" nailed above it. But before you waltz through and mosey with the Almighty, you are required to complete a self-assessment of your performance so far this year. Like making your very own Santa's list. Good or Bad. Your honesty is required, or it's straight to the cauldron with you. Santa knows.
Question 1: What goals did you set for yourself this year? Umm...
Question 2: How did you go about accomplishing your goals? Ahh...
Question 3: What achievements this year are you proud of? Question 4: If you haven't reached your goals, why have you failed? No, wait, I'm still at #1 Question 5: Why have you not worked, billed and collected fifty million dollars for the firm TO DATE?Question 6: Are you a LOSER? Question 7: Are you using up valuable oxygen that are better breathed by more erstwhile employees of the firm??? Noooooo! Please! Spare me! Question 8 : You are obviously a liability to the firm if you cannot even accomplish the childish goals you have set yourself, you are a no good piece of pondscum. Answer me!!! Yes Yes *sob* I am worthless, I have no more pride, confidence or self-esteem.. and because I work a hundred hours a week I also have no friends or a social life, but that's OK, because now I don't need to wear make-up and have made peace with hair loss and breakouts..
I am STILL answering this goddamn questionnaire. With every question I feel my will to live becoming more and more detached from my person. I expect to see my skin drop from it like an emptied sack any time now. Oh shit, my brain is oozing out of my pores! Help!
Here are the three stories of ours.
Story Number One
The nation, oops, beg pardon, The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of the People's Republic of China (please imagine patriotic marches and stern salutations as you read this out loud, thank you for your attention) has recently moved towards 5-day working weeks (it's quite amazing, I never would've thought that a nation, oops, beg pardon, The Hong Kong Special Adminisarghhfuccckkyougetthebloodyidea, would collectively stand up and say, "let's allow our people to be lazier. Go on, you've all been working yourselves too hard, have one on me" but right they did and here we go. Our firm, grudgingly and hesitatingly as it did, finally sucked in a deep breath and proclaimed, by edict of The Managing Partner, that the World of Wahbert shall henceforth only be operational from 8.30am to 5.30pm MONDAY to FRIDAYS (only, both days inclusive, for the avoidance of doubt).
Followed by a timed 2 beats, an email from the chief troll of HR:
"If you have applied for leave on Saturdays, the half-day will be credited back to your annual leave entitlement. TO THOSE OF YOU who have tendered your resignation(imagine green skin sharp teeth and senegalese soccer victory dance around a fire accompanied by shrieks and cackling) the above does not apply. The privilege only applies to those who remain (loyal) to the firm (Hah, bet you're sorry you resigned now, QuiTtEr, lOOoosERr) (No, dear HR, not really, you can take your half a day and shove it, we're really glad to be going) (but HR only hears the sweet sound of its self-indulgent sense of justice being served, hence the last words, hence
Victory).
Story Number Two
Another email from HR:
"In the coming hot summer months, we adopt a smart casual dress code here in the World of Wahbert. By smart casual we mean SMART. And by that, we mean no jeans, no faded jeans, no ripped jeans, no t-shirts, ABSOLUTELY no t-shirts without collars, no shorts, no miniskirts, no strapless tops, no tubes, no sneakers, no runners, no sportsshoes, no slippers, no thongs..." Oh for, I think I'll just wear a suit.
Story Number Three
Performance Review
It is that time of the year where the powers that be sit across a table the size of France from you from a position of slight levitated height so that they can stare down and secretly call you a chipmunk before you walk through that door. You know that door, the one with a sign that says "Final Judgment" nailed above it. But before you waltz through and mosey with the Almighty, you are required to complete a self-assessment of your performance so far this year. Like making your very own Santa's list. Good or Bad. Your honesty is required, or it's straight to the cauldron with you. Santa knows.
Question 1: What goals did you set for yourself this year? Umm...
Question 2: How did you go about accomplishing your goals? Ahh...
Question 3: What achievements this year are you proud of? Question 4: If you haven't reached your goals, why have you failed? No, wait, I'm still at #1 Question 5: Why have you not worked, billed and collected fifty million dollars for the firm TO DATE?Question 6: Are you a LOSER? Question 7: Are you using up valuable oxygen that are better breathed by more erstwhile employees of the firm??? Noooooo! Please! Spare me! Question 8 : You are obviously a liability to the firm if you cannot even accomplish the childish goals you have set yourself, you are a no good piece of pondscum. Answer me!!! Yes Yes *sob* I am worthless, I have no more pride, confidence or self-esteem.. and because I work a hundred hours a week I also have no friends or a social life, but that's OK, because now I don't need to wear make-up and have made peace with hair loss and breakouts..
I am STILL answering this goddamn questionnaire. With every question I feel my will to live becoming more and more detached from my person. I expect to see my skin drop from it like an emptied sack any time now. Oh shit, my brain is oozing out of my pores! Help!
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Office Junk
Wow, it's been awhile since I last posted. How are you, World???
I'm not in the habit of reading what I've written, so from memory, the last we have of Wahbert is her flight down some mighty mine shaft to drill oil in the polar ice caps. Would have been nice to say that Wahbert finally made her way to the light at the end of the tunnel and life awashes her in fresh air and dewy sunshine, but that belongs in another blog, na? Well then? Latest from Wahbert: still drilling and boring away in the deep bowels of the earth, although considering the geographical location and the urban planning of this little hell hole, there apparently isn't really much room left underground. Say hello to Hong Kong.
I've been meaning to blog this ever since I received the employees' handbook by courier. This should touch a special chord with those of you out there who, like myself, have a desk that resembles nothing so much as a bureaucratic volcano that in a fit of hiccough, spewed paper. And there it was, in neat double-spaced typeset font, snuggled right between "DRESS CODE" and "MEDICAL" on page 35, appeared the two sinister little words... "OFFICE JUNK". Stark, unembellished, uncompromising. Wahbert's heart caught, but she read on.
"The ballot for the office junk Ottery will be held every Friday at 3 p.m."
Two separate thoughts vied for pre-eminence at this moment in Wahbert's mind. (One) The bastards are going to confiscate my stuff and lottery it off every Friday afternoon??? Motherfu%#*&$.. (Two) Something is bothering me about the typing.. followed quickly by another (purely by habit of profession) thought we shall label: (Three) Junk by whOSE definition??????
Again, let me welcome you to Hong Kong, where law firms and random wealthy people have little fibreglass cruiseliners marooned in the harbour, quaintly known as "junks" in the true Chinese tradition. Ours' called "Ottery".
Damn.
I'm not in the habit of reading what I've written, so from memory, the last we have of Wahbert is her flight down some mighty mine shaft to drill oil in the polar ice caps. Would have been nice to say that Wahbert finally made her way to the light at the end of the tunnel and life awashes her in fresh air and dewy sunshine, but that belongs in another blog, na? Well then? Latest from Wahbert: still drilling and boring away in the deep bowels of the earth, although considering the geographical location and the urban planning of this little hell hole, there apparently isn't really much room left underground. Say hello to Hong Kong.
I've been meaning to blog this ever since I received the employees' handbook by courier. This should touch a special chord with those of you out there who, like myself, have a desk that resembles nothing so much as a bureaucratic volcano that in a fit of hiccough, spewed paper. And there it was, in neat double-spaced typeset font, snuggled right between "DRESS CODE" and "MEDICAL" on page 35, appeared the two sinister little words... "OFFICE JUNK". Stark, unembellished, uncompromising. Wahbert's heart caught, but she read on.
"The ballot for the office junk Ottery will be held every Friday at 3 p.m."
Two separate thoughts vied for pre-eminence at this moment in Wahbert's mind. (One) The bastards are going to confiscate my stuff and lottery it off every Friday afternoon??? Motherfu%#*&$.. (Two) Something is bothering me about the typing.. followed quickly by another (purely by habit of profession) thought we shall label: (Three) Junk by whOSE definition??????
Again, let me welcome you to Hong Kong, where law firms and random wealthy people have little fibreglass cruiseliners marooned in the harbour, quaintly known as "junks" in the true Chinese tradition. Ours' called "Ottery".
Damn.
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