Wednesday, 3 March 2010

Wednesday 3 March 2010

Wednesday 3 March 2010

Today gets entered into with a rough arrival.  Welcome to yet another Dante Hicks Day on my part, one where things are always going to be destined to go wrong.

The main news story today features one of the James Bulger murderers having re-offended.  Once his new identity gets discovered it will be all over the internet.  That’ll be trouble for him.

Its another frosty morning that sees me having to scrape a small lining off my windscreen.  It freezes my hand slightly and poorly sets me up for the rest of the day ahead.  Awkward omens.

Eventually when I board the train this morning once again I spot the old lady on the laptop with the strange and crazed expression of amazement.  Should she really be let this close to technology?  Or is she just looking at some dirty smutty porn?

Things on the journey take another dip at Chelmsford when after two bag ladies thump past me and hit me with their tampon carriers, some fat arse ignorant old man seemingly related to them decides to sit in the middle of me and the guy asleep against the side of the train.  There truly is not enough room here for two people of such statue to sit next to each other.  To up the stakes he proceeds to take offence when I am not overly obliging in allowing him to take half my seat from me.

His wife sits across the aisle and I see them making faces at each other over this event.  What, am I really in the wrong here?  Would it be so wrong if I slapped this red-faced old fucker into next week?  Then to put a cherry on top of this wobbly cunt’s cake she decides to open the window on the train.  It is not that warm yet you stupid old fucker.  Honestly what is with these tourist commuters?

As I try and pretend that I am not sitting next to the cheap bastard I can’t help but look at what book he is reading in order to put together a mental picture of his personality and general identity.  The book is by two authors called Paul Davies and John Gribbin.  The guy is fucking science geek, not necessarily the type of person that given to having two feet steeped in reality.  What, does he really think there is more to the world than we know.  Surely for a person reading about matter you would think that he would realise he would not be able to squeeze into seat between us.  This world.

Thankfully we eventually get to London and when I arrive at the Liverpool Street tube platform once again all is turmoil.  It would appear/seem that the Metropolitan Line is out of action this week.  Thanks for telling me this, three days into proceedings.

Ultimately no one dies though, we just all get a little bit crushed on the way over to Baker Street.  After changing to the Jubilee Line finally I amble into work where a potentially bothersome day lies ahead of me.

Invariably with any Dante Hicks Day several things go wrong today.  It was always going to be this way.  With the consultant incoming I find myself still with six or seven things that need doing before the accounts are in any decent shape to present to him.  Thems the breaks of being given four days to a months set of accounts in.

When he finally arrives he brings with him the usual dark cloud that comes with such proceedings.  At this stage I am still finishing the balance sheet work off and when he asks to review a series of nominal accounts frustratingly on the whole they are the ones that I am currently still working on, the ones that are unfinished and thus incorrect.

From this point it all begins to get a tad tense.  The consultant turns heavy on me, questioning the control accounts all over again.  Strangely the last time I spoke to him about these things all was well with this area.  At that point I had spent (wasted) a week and a half waiting on him for some adjustments and the nod to continue.  Now in a complete u-turn apparently it was the control accounts of/on the new company that were all right, that he was talking about.  For fucks sake this truly is beyond the pale now.

At this point I think he gets the message as he leaves me alone to finish off my bit.  Unfortunately with this he begins asking the girls questions, which generally tends to prompt a response from them similar to a dog that has just been shown a card trick.

Eventually I get my bit finished off and as I leave it is to the sound of the angry boss suddenly kicking off as it apparently now gets revealed to him that as a department we are not checking delivery notes to invoices.  This is something that hasn’t been happening for two years now, something that just got lost in the shuffle when we all joined and the crazy financial controller failed to maintain the controls and systems meaning that we inherited little short of a fucking mess ultimately resulting in us having to design our procedures.

I come away from today reeling and questioning myself, questioning my ability, talent and even sanity.  Have things really gone as far wrong as the raised voices would suggest?  I really do feel small and immature when faced with such issues.  Should I be stepping up to the plate?  It wouldn’t hurt but the fucker is already so crowded.  This however I sense it what keeps me from being a success at my profession, what holds/keeps me back in my career.  I do feel things are stacked against me but when I really need to have a loud assertive voice I miss that period and wind up exercising an aftermath whine.  Right now I am half feeling guilt tripped into going into work tomorrow but at the same time who needs another Dante Hicks Day, another day of going into work without steam but in the wrong frame of mind.  Perhaps a day off is exactly what is needed right now.

Tonight I get home feeling beat and as a result predictably it’s not long before I am hitting bed.  When I step through my front door at least my Wesley Willis documentary DVD has arrived and as England v Egypt plays out at Wembley I express/display zero interest.  This England team is one of the least impressive line-ups of my generation.  Why brother?

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