I heard on the news this morning that people in the UK work the longest hours in the whole of Europe, but are less productive than workers in every other European country. I don't know if that's true, but what I do know is this; if certain people attended fewer meetings and the rest of us were afforded less draconian work regimes and proper rest breaks in conducive surroundings, we'd all certainly be more productive.
In my current workplace (no names, no pack-drill - if you know me, you'll know where I work) our time is micro-managed and overseen to the nano-second. It's not pleasant being permanently scrutinised - nor to feel as though you're not trusted. It's not pleasant to have someone ring the trainer 45 minutes into a one-to-one, one hour planned training session just to ask if you, as the trainee, are ''coping okay'' - when what they're really asking is ''Has the sneaky cow actually turned up for the training session, or is she out the back having a pint and a crafty fag''? This happened to me today. I actually heard the words come out of the Butterball's mouth - the very nice trainer actually had his phone on speaker. That we were talking about whisky at the time was neither here nor there. His raised eyebrows and sideways glance at Butterball's question spoke volumes. He was pissed off, and he could tell I was too - so when the phone went down, he looked at me and said, ''So. Where were we? Oh, yes''' (frantic scrolling through Amazon on tablet), ''This is the whisky I think you should try. It's pretty peaty...''. Then we talked about gin for a while. We hadn't needed the hour. He was only handing me over a data-access card and telling me that if I misuse it, I'll go to prison. I got the gist. He realised I have a brain.
Most of yesterday, I was alone in the section while everyone else went to a management meeting, followed by a team leaders meeting, followed by a planning meeting. All fucking day. Meetings about meetings about meetings. And strategy about meeting the targets for meetings. And planning for progress in the meetings about meetings.
I ate lunch after my training session. I ate my lunch sitting on the windowsill in the corridor. It looks out over an internal building well. It's not ideal, but it's more conducive than sitting in the allotted ''break out'' area in the office; three chairs and a table, stuffed into an airless, windowless alcove in the corner. It serves an office of around 75, give or take. I work for a national organisation which promotes health and well-being. We have a scant 30 minutes for lunch, in a part of the building which is a good 7 minute walk away from the canteen - a canteen shared by workers and the public. No chance of going down for a hot lunch. It's also a good 7 minutes to the nearest coffee/shopping concession. 14 minutes (plus queuing time) there and back. There's a grassed area outside, but that takes 5 minutes to get to, even when walking briskly. Ten minutes travel time, out of a thirty minute break. No wonder everyone looks dyspeptic after lunch. The large and popular tiered seating area outside the front of the building has recently been cordoned off and is being dug up to provide space for a new treatment unit. I can't believe that when our wing was built, no-one considered that the several thousand staff working in the offices and other departments might need somewhere close by and easily accessible to escape to.
I still haven't signed my contract. There is further fuckwittery afoot.
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