Forgive me, but you will all have to give me a
bit of leeway this morning, I’m confused.
Not only is Colonialist being nice to me, but other people, Malla Duncan
in Cape Town and Ian Thompson in London, are retweeting my blog on Twitter. Not
only are they, ‘Retweeting,’ the blog, they are ‘Favoriting,’ it. I don’t know what that means, either of them. Today was going to be difficult enough as I
have to perform the literary equivalent of a handbrake turn and take us all
back to Manchester and the evilness that was Delia. I had been released from hospital; I wasn’t
cured, far from it and nothing much of note happened after that. Even the following week when I returned for
an evening appointment to have my scan, and after paying two pounds and ninety
pence for the privilege of parking for forty minutes in the car park,
discovered that I had been awarded a sixty pound parking ticket for parking in
a disabled bay with an out of date parking ticket.
It’s all right, the letter arrived this morning
telling me that all parking charges had been dropped, which is a shame, as I
was looking forward to my day in court, I would have looked stunning, with legs
like mine, framed with a black gown and wig.
So; steady the Buffs, its back to Manchester, Delia and pure
evilness. I had been working as Deputy
Director of Operations for a large company providing services for people with
learning disabilities and mental health problems. The company was called North West Community
Services and has to be one of the worst companies I have ever worked for. The way they treated their staff was horrendous
and the way they allowed the people with learning disabilities and mental
health problems to be treated was despicable.
Most companies in the United Kingdom who profess to, ‘support,’ people
with learning disabilities and mental health problems to live in the community are
absolute rubbish at what they do. Each
company is basically a cash cow raking in money for the owners or directors.
Throughout my civilian life I was constantly
told that I didn’t understand business, usually when I was being fired from a
company, and there were a lot of them, and if that is the case I have no
shame. To know that I am not a lying, cheating, conniving, asshole, like Paul O Grady, does my heart good. In fact I would say that even the care of the
elderly, in the United Kingdom, falls in to the same category. I went to work every day hoping that I would
be able to help someone that day. I had
no ulterior motive, no schemes or scams.
I had enemies; I know that my meteoric rise through the ranks was viewed
with jealous suspicion by many. Three of
my own team leaders were capable of doing my job but I really do believe I had
an edge on them. They were all girls,
they were all uber-efficient and organised, but I do believe I was slightly
ahead of them with my planning and organisational capabilities. I knew I deserved my position.
There was no rule book or guide book to tell me
what to do each day. There were certain
routine functions that structured my working week but mostly it was, ‘On the
hoof,’ so to speak, something that I really enjoyed. It also meant that I would approach different
situations in my own way. For example I
had to complete an audit on a house where four people with mental health issues
were being supported to live in the community.
I went there for an afternoon inspection. First I would tour the house and inspect the fixtures
and fittings, then I would go through the accounts and make sure everything
balanced. Then I would check the vehicles
and record the mileage and fuel usage and that they were being properly
serviced. The team leader who had just
been promoted and had taken over charge of the house was a Pakistani girl. She was really nervous with my visit as the gossip
that I was ex-military was still going around inferring that I was a stickler
for the rules and regulations.
All four of the young men who lived in the
house were violent and it was something you sensed the moment you walked in
through the front door. I began to tour
the property but ended up in a scuffle, with one of the occupants, in the dining
room which necessitated me disappearing as it might have been my presence that started
the fellow off. The team leader and
myself retreated to the office and sat ourselves down. The commotion continued outside and I knew
that to attempt to inspect any more of the house would only cause trouble so I
would leave it and focus on getting to know the residents, before invading their
space. After all, it was their house. I began to inspect the books and discovered
that the only outstanding factor was a missing twenty pounds which I had been
told had been reserved by two support workers who had taken the most difficult
individual out for the afternoon in case he caused trouble during my visit. I couldn’t sign the accounts books off so
decided to leave them until my next visit.
I knew that the van parked outside the house was
two days old and had about six miles on the clock. Not really worth me looking at it so I decided
that the best thing to do was have a cup of tea with the team leader, get to
know her and try and establish a decent working relationship with her. There was no point in doing half an
inspection. It was the following morning
when Delia came in to the office that things went a little skew whiff. I have no reason to plot, or plan, or scheme
and lie so you don’t really expect those around you to do so. When you are open and honest you tend to expect
everyone else to act in a similar way. I
think this is what people meant when they said I didn’t understand business. Delia came in to the office like a cruise missile
looking for a weapon of mass destruction. She came straight to little old me,
at my desk, and without a good morning, or a hello, demanded that I follow her
in to her office. Both doors to her
office were left wide open so I knew that this bollocking was to be for the
benefit, or the enjoyment, of everyone in the building.
Delia then let me have the full force of her
venom and I promise you, in Spinal Tap terms, the volume went to twelve. Luckily
with the years I had spent in the military I was quite used to complete idiots
shouting at me. It was all about my
inspection the previous day, the one I didn’t really carry out. I could have argued each point with her but
the one pervading thought was how on earth did she find all this out? I couldn’t think of a reason why the team
leader would contact Delia and complain, or report me, so Delia had to be the one
who went to the team leader. A real
business person would then add the knowledge of the fact that Delia had told me
that I was to interview her daughter for my job and give it to her and understand
that both situations were connected. I didn’t,
I had been a hardworking, productive, employee, why should I worry. I waited until she had finished showering me
with bile and abuse and she told me to get out of her office.
I was a bit shell shocked; the way she had
behaved was most unprofessional and therefore difficult to understand how to
correctly respond to. I knew I had to
get out of there, but how and where to?
I know that I found myself driving to Liverpool where I went to Natural
Breaks. As I walked in Jan, the boss of
Natural Breaks, looked at me and asked what was wrong. “I need a new job,” I said, and she handed me
an application form. “I need a new Deputy Director of Operations,” she said, with a smile, telling me that she probably knew,
word for word, what had happened in Manchester.
It was pure luck of the Irish. Natural
Beaks were and probably still are the best company in the United Kingdom
working with people with learning disabilities and mental health problems. The chief executive Jan is a wonderful leader
and manager; it would be an honour to get back on to her team. Of course not everyone who works for Natural
Breaks is a star and that evening as I sat at home filling out the application form
I got a telephone call from Joe.
Joe had been my service manager at North West
Community Services when I had been a team leader. He was quite useless, but had used his
position and connections to move to Natural Breaks when the management of North
West Community Services began to crumble.
He told me that he now ran Natural Breaks, which I am sure would have
been news for Jan and her senior management team. On top of that he had promised his mate the
new job of Deputy Director of Operations; however, if his plans didn’t work out
and I got the job, I would be working for him and would have to do things his
way. All I wanted to do was help people
with learning disabilities and mental health problems, they were my friends,
but how could I protect them from uncaring staff, from people who were only
interested in their own self. Not the
type of person you would expect to find in a caring profession. I had worked my way up from the bottom but I
was getting sick and tired of the selfish, heartless, useless people who seemed
to make up the bulk of the workforce in this supposedly caring profession. There was only one thing to do. Civilians don’t really understand how
military people give themselves to a flag, or a colour or a motto. When that flag, or motto, encompasses your very
existence, it’s easy. Three words that sums
up your outlook, attitude and determination, Fight or Die. What else is there to say?
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