You can guarantee one thing working as a freelance. When push comes to shove you’re out in the cold without so much as a blink of the eye. I have spent the last year working in mental health covering for a position which was finally filled last week. The boss calls me in and says he wants to be ‘fair’ and gives me two weeks notice. I’d hate to see him being unfair. May he end up in a secure unit with Michael Myers for company.


My boss insisted I read an email circular about voluntary redundancy at work.

“Why?” I asked knowing that I didn’t quality for the scheme.

“I have to make sure you’ve all read it,” she replied like some pre-programmed cyborg.

“Well, I don’t qualify and you know I don’t qualify so what’s the point?”

“The point is you need to know about it.”

“Why do I need to know about it? I don’t qualify.”

“I said are you going to read it?” (Her voice has crept up a couple quavers on the scale by now).


Another productive day on the office.


His Royal Highness descended from his eight floor eyrie today to tell us about his plans to implement a 30% cut in the workforce starting next month.

He began with the usual platitudes about remaining professional, focusing on what mattered and ignoring hearsay while delivering some telling body blows with his velvet padded gloves.

There was talk of a Mutually Agreed Redundancy scheme and the ‘September conversations’ which sound like the title of a Robert Ludlam novel but referred to an assessment process we’ll all undergo to decide who ends up filling the meat pies.

“I see this as a stage in our journey, not the end of it,” he told the bowed heads before graciously telling us he would remain in post until the termination of the primary care trust in 2013. A hardship indeed when you earn more than £100,000 a year


Job cuts loom in the workplace but our boss insists on marching us over the cliff with a smile on our faces and a song in our hearts

It feels like being in some World War One film where the officer sends his men over the top knowing they are going to certain death with a ‘chin up, lads. We’ll be home for supper.”

I agree that there is little to be gained from wallowing in bad news but stop short of ignoring reality.

Management seem to live in some laudanum soaked alternative reality where they think everyone believes their cant and waffle. I felt my eyes begin to glaze after hearing the latest pep talk aimed at keeping us working until we enter the meat grinder and are left to our fate with a kind word.

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