Changes.
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Well, the shocking news tonight is that five minutes after arriving at work I discovered that our boss, the head of security, is no longer our boss. That's right. He's moved to another department. By choice, they're saying, but methinks it might have had something to do with everything being such a farce these past two months and him wising up and deciding it's best to wash his hands clean of it all.
So, #2 is now our boss. Allegedly. There's a 'big meeting' tomorrow where I'm sure this will all be resolved. #2 being the boss is a good thing or, at least, that's how it been in the past. I'm hoping, as he chaired our previous 'big meeting', he'll pay heed to our suggestions, and push through some changes. Let's hope he doesn't morph into another #1.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before - I'm assuming it's come across in my prose - but everything in my place is money, money, money. Specifically, getting the most they can out of doing and offering the least. This, of course, includes staff, but does not stop there. That bullet runs all the way through the punters and their kids and right through the very park itself. The handrail on the stairs is a bit wonky, is it? Stick a bit of masking tape on it, mate. There's no ramp for the disabled folk in the main arcades? Chuck a bit of wood down. The toilet in the 'Mother & Baby' room has a ticking nuclear device in it? Try flushing.
Keeping an eye on the budget isn't unusual in a big organisation, of course, but there's a level of reasonability. And it doesn't seem to exist here. Nobody seems to notice or realise that screwing people over rarely leads to an increase in performance. Or, indeed, any performance at all. What happens is people leave. And they do, in their droves.
Every other day, somebody - a cleaner, an ENTS girl, a waitress, a barman - says to me, "You're going to leave soon, aren't you?"
I haven't actually said anything to anybody about any of this. Leaving, that is. It must be my wry smile and winning demeanour. I suppose folk hear security moaning a lot but only because that's our job. To pass on negative information, i.e., this is a problem, he is a cunt, they have to leave. It's not my fault; it's in the small print, dear.
But of course everybody notices the difference between a full security roster - like, for example, tonight - and when it's just me and Jabba clearing out a main bar full of 1000 pissheads at 2.30 in the morning, by ourselves.
But nothing changes.
Jabba, Edmonson and myself - who, without being even remotely arrogant, hold this fucking place together night after night - know damn well that every new day brings the possibility that we might be the only one on duty. We, that is, as in 'I'.
In this job somebody could die. Or, alternatively, you could slash a few quid off the annual budget. Hmmm.
As somebody once said:
You gotta operate the easy way
"I made a G today."
But you made it in a sleazy way
sellin'
"I gotta get paid,"
Well hey: that's the way it is.
Quite.
Good news: the footballers are back this weekend. Go me.
posted by Sheamus @ 3:00 am
