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Monday, July 19, 2010


This post is not, you'll be relieved to read, a reference to the sometimes breathtaking faith larger bodied ladies have in their minimal underwear.
No this a post about the route shit takes to get to me. When a customer has a shit day and decides to meet his mates for a drink, the stress, poorly understood emotions and poorly expressed anger come my way.
underlings, who pass it out to the bar staff. These When a manager gets a roasting for shit profit and loss figures, they pass down the shit to theirbarstaff, give shit to the customers and I end up clearing it up when they make their frustrations known.
When the management of the door-company get a bollocking from the club company for not meeting the service level agreement, my boss gives me shit for keeping a slack door.
None of these is me bringing my shit to work, I don't do that as there's more than enough shit from other people to go 'round.


Anonymous said...

I would like to exchange links with your site
Is this possible?

Adoor Man said...

Happy for you to link here, will need a few more details to link to you though. Reply here and include your site address I'll look over it and see about putting a link in.

Germ Girl said...

I'm catching up after a summer of not blogging.

This post makes me think about the fiance...he finds it unusual that when I go to work, I sort-of hit a pause button on the rest of my life, put it on hold really, go into the hospital, work my shift, and then by the time I get home...I hit that pause button again and pick my life up at the point where I left it.

Can't stand people bringing their business to work...there's way too much drama in a hospital to go around, and no one needs more :-)