Fuckwittery...

There is still fuckwittery afoot.  The ''break-out'' area meeting was postponed until later in the week, but I'm maintaining an air of blasé detachment about the whole thing, which may or may not be driving people mad.  Truth to tell, I've never been so ''nice'' about fuckwittery before - and I'm quite scaring myself.  My normal default position is full-on redhead with added berserker, as those of you who know me will probably agree. 

In a nutshell, what is happening is that, in January, I applied for a job with a fixed term, six-month contract.  I had my reasons for this - very specific reasons.   When I got to the first interview I asked, again very specifically, why the job was vacant and I was told that the job wasn't vacant as such, that it was actually a completely new post, as an assistant to the person running a very interesting project, and the funding was in place for 6 months. At the end of 6 months, the project would either have worked or not, and we could then re-negotiate a longer stay, or I could leave.   It was also specified that, as the assistant to the project, the project would be my main focus, but I might be called on to help with other things in the department from time to time.   That seemed reasonable, as did the discussion about flexible hours - the job was advertised as 30 hours per week, but up to a maximum of 37.5 hours per week, depending on workload - even perhaps with an occasional Saturday. I was told that the offices were operational between 8.00am and 8.00pm, but I'd be working as required.  My hours and starting time would vary according to need.  That seemed fine.   I was rather taken by Gandalf of Excel and was pretty sure that we'd work well together - plus, the project was interesting.

I had a second interview.    I presented my credentials and a letter praising me to the skies for my help in running a similar special project with another organisation - at which, the interviewers were both shiny-eyed with glee.  Again, it was stated that this was a six-month project...blah, blah, blah, assistant to Gandalf of Excel,,,blah, blah, blah...bit of help when needed with other things in the department...blah, blah, blah. 

I was offered the job, packed my suitcase and moved back to Oakwood Towers.

Long story short; my contract, when it arrived, was for a permanent job, 37.5 hours a week, with fixed hours starting at 8.00am. I spoke to Personnel.  Told them the contract was inaccurate - mentioned the 30-hour bit, focus of job, fixed term contract stuff.  Oh, no, says Personnel bunny - it's always been 37.5 hours, but I'll arrange for a new contract to be drawn up, showing fixed term conditions.   Doubting myself by this point, I went back to the advert and found that, mysteriously, the conditions had been changed - despite me having a copy to hand of the original job description.  I've not yet signed the changed document. 

In the last two weeks, the focus of the job has been not the project, but work in the department, with bits of the project fitted in around what is basically call-centre work. I don't play nicely with others.  I worked for two days in a call centre once, and I swore I'd never do it again.  If I'd wanted a call-centre job, I'd have applied for one in the first instance.  I underwent the training in my first week, I did little bits of the project and LOTS of the other work. That was sort of okay - everyone needs to learn systems in a new job, and I will need the knowledge to do parts of the project later on.  THEN it transpired, during a conversation with Gandalf, that she is actually only on secondment, covering a maternity leave post.  She will be leaving on 29th April to go back to her substantive post, and I will be working with a completely new person, who I've not even met.   This was NEVER mentioned, at either of the interviews. Had it been, I would not have taken the position.  As I pointed out to Gandalf in our corridor conversation,  I turned down another job offer to do this job, on the basis we'd discussed at TWO interviews - working with her, on a specific project, fixed term, and with bits of other work round the edges - not vice-versa.

This, in a nutshell, is the fucktangular mess of fuckwittery which now needs sorting out.   To be fair, Gandalf was horrified that ''my expectations of the job have not been fulfilled'', and has taken steps to try to mitigate the disaster.  There will be meetings, there will be discussions and hopefully, an accord will be reached.  In the meantime, I am drifting about, neither one thing nor the other.

But I remain sanguine, which is as much a surprise to me as it is to most of the rest of the sharers of my world. I must be softening in my dotage...