No! That Is NOT A Typo
In case you weren't' paying attention, this is the perversion of "Management" that refers to idiots who rise to a position of sufficient power that they can sink a company, thanks to their imposition of new rules and regulations. We've had a few of these tales before, and here's another. Art!
Come on, what were you expecting, a picture of a man wearing a suit? An "Atomic Tank" sounds a lot cooler. Although - what quality about it is 'Atomic'? Does it fire nuclear projectiles? Since even the smallest of these packs an enormous wallop, they would have to be fired at extremely long range. Perhaps it's supposed to be impervious to atomic attack? In which case it would be a monstrous mass of metal lined with lead, able to manage 0.005 k.p.h. Or is it atomic-powered? Hmmm sending a nuclear reactor into combat versus ATGMs, what could possibly go wrong?
ANYWAY back to the Manglement story. Original Poster worked for years at a company that had recently experienced a high turnover of both staff and management, never a good thing. He could work in either the service or orders department and, when scheduled for the late shift (13:00 - 21:00) he would come in a couple of hours early to get orders done. This was important due to the shortage of staff. Art!
Quite probably not what we're talking about
Enter Karen The Manager. Probably just out of business school, she decided that work performance was going to be judged by phone logs. THE PHONE LOG IS GOD! in her vision.
Next time OP is in early, she takes him aside for a little chat. She thanks him for coming in early, BUT he's been logging-in late on the phone - on one occasion as many as 7 minutes late! <gags in horror>. OP getting asked questions or doing orders before logging-in wasn't good enough as an excuse. "Late is late" to quote her.
You can probably guess where this is going. OP stuck strictly to his scheduled hours and Karen finally noticed after a week that his delivering free overtime to the company had ended. When she queried this with him, he simply explained he wasn't doing anything that would prevent him from loggin-in on time. Of course - obviously! - she went purple with rage but - THE PHONE LOG IS GOD and there was nothing she could do about it. Art!
Hmmm. A bit dull. Art! Robot zombie! Much better.
Karen was sunk by a business practice known as the "Exit interview", where employees explain why they're leaving. She continued with her Karen micro-managing until half OP's department left to work at a competitor, and they all named her as the reason they were leaving.
She was gone within 48 hours. So, a happy ending! and a confirmation of the old saying "People don't quit because of bad jobs, they quit because of bad managers."
I say, motley - we can now legitimately claim to use the title "Atomic Tank Robot Zombies". I'll probably save that for the Facebook blorb*.
Get Drench With The French
Yes, more words ending in "-ETTE". Don't fret so, it doesn't become you and besides I've only got these three. Unless I diligently comb my Collins Concise and trawl for more - what's that? "Please no"? O very well.
"BARRETTE": Conrad was unsure if this was a real word or if I'd just made it up out of moonbeams and silver. It turns out to be a real thing. Art!
A BRUNETTE wearing a BARRETTE
Dog Buns. Another one. No, no, ignore that. It's a hairslide, typically bar-shaped, and the name is a diminutive of the French for "Bar", which is "Barre".
"CREPE SUZETTE": This is more like it, and I can attest to them being a real thing, I had one at a street vendor in Paris. Can you believe that he wanted to befoul it with Nutella? <gags with horror>. Art!
This variety is a pancake that's covered with a caramel sauce, orange zest and then brandy, which is then set alight.
Dog Buns. Now I'm feeling peckish.
"FLECHETTE": Ah, Conrad is also familiar with this. The word is French for "Arrow" and refers to a fin-stabilised dart, of small dimensions. They are principally an anti-personnel weapon, often fired by the dozens or hundreds from a large-calibre weapon and are a thoroughly unpleasant way to wage war. Art!
Let's Have Something A Bit More Cheerful
Conrad gleefully bookmarked a BBC webpage yesteryon, one on the theme of "Empty Spaces" open to entrants across the globe. Art!
Courtesy Lia Mageira
According to the picture taker, this is an angler at the lagoon in Messolonghi in Greece. Those 'clouds' to port are actually cliffs. Do we have a map to hand, Art?
Messo with lagoon
Excuse me, need to go take a photograph, be right back.
My Meal Of Yesteryon
I had all the bits together, so I made 'Korean Fried Rice' last night, taking care to use half-measures as the original fed four people. Art!
This is the second bowl, because it's filling stuff. Using sesame oil to fry stuff definitely adds a different flavour to it. I need to find another recipe to try!
"The Sea Of Sand"
The Doctor is alternately illuminating and baiting the bio-vore dictator Sur, who has now asked the real kicker: why are you here?
"A chance to travel to another world, naturally," half-lied the Doctor. If he got the chance to travel to another world, he usually took it, which made it only half a lie.
"I jumped before I realised there were a dozen aliens on the platform already. In hindsight I might have made a slight miscalculation."
Coughing in a hint that his throat had dried out, the Doctor caught a calculating look from the bio-vore.
"Yes? You want something?"
"A little water wouldn't go amiss," replied the Doctor. "Nor a little food."
At a gesture, attendant guards brought bowls of thick green soup and water. Producing a spoon from the pocket of his waistcoat, the Time Lord amazed and alarmed the watching bio-vores by spooning up the soup, smacking his lips and declaring it to be a little bland, but most welcome. The water he sipped slowly, thinking about how the interrogation was going, both from his own point of view and that of the alien leader.
From one viewpoint, he was like Scheherezade, trying to keep the audience interested by leaving the tale at a cliffhanger, with the cliffhanger element - literally - being his knowledge of advanced scientific techniques. Then, too, he had to avoid giving out too much knowledge, for fear that the ruthless aristocrat in front of him would decide that the alien in front of him was now disposable.
Walking a fine line. I'm sure it'll all be fine, Doctor!
Finally -
Here's another question from Quora, both silly and profound at the same time.
By and large we are stoic and avoid strong displays of emotion, besides being frequently deadpan. Not for us the razzle-dazzle of South Canadian televangelists, or ticker-tape parades; that's just not British.
As for deadpan, have a look at this chap. Art!
This is the sadly deceased Les Dawson, who was an hilariously funny comedian, in real life as well as on the stage. He defined 'deadpan'.
Really, the South Canadians ought to get 'deadpan' better because they had one of the genre's greatest comedians. Art!
* Like 'blurb' except better.
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