Incompetence writ large

It has got to be a sign of my age that I grow more annoyed and frustrated by acts of incompetence.

Being tech savvy is fine, but what annoyed me the other day was civil servants hiding behind a computer answering mechanism. There were 3 phone numbers for the local Council that ought to have served my purposes. Try as I might, all I heard was the same automated message telling me people were 'busy'. Cynical me decided they could not all be so busy, more probably the answering system was taking the strain.

I turned to the Internet, found the webpages and the complaints page. I duly filled in the complaints form and submitted it. Next, I received an email with the complaint ID number, only to learn that it could take ten working days for a reply.

Later, I received a voicemail, someone from the Council relying to my complaint, yet unable / unwilling to give her name. She also proved that she had not read the complaint email properly.

What caused all this annoyance and frustration?

Hospitals send a patient home with ready-filled injections to be administered daily for 30 days. All well and good. Now try getting rid of the sharps box and its contaminated contents.

Do the hospitals take them? 
What about the G.P. surgery or the local pharmacy?

No!

Prescribing a series of injections is the easy part, disposing of them afterwards is the bug-bear.

Eventually, the G.P. surgery phone the 'collection team' and your name / address are added to their list. Weeks pass, no-one arrives. Neighbour mentions that she has sharps to be collected and tells the guy that next-door need a collection. 

What happens? Instead of collecting the sharps box, a new one is delivered! This happens again. The sharps box is still awaiting collection four months later.

Back to the female that left the voicemail message...

Thinking positively, she has said the sharps box is to be collected (today). Then spoils the good impression by saying a calendar of deliveries will also be delivered!

mf aka more follows

The dogs let on that someone had come to the door even tho' no-one had rung the doorbell. I raced to the door to find a letter pushed thro'. Noticing a white lorry, I rushed to get there before it left. Fortunately, I was in time and Tony left the diving seat and came round to find out the problem.

Cutting a long story short, he'd been tasked with delivering a letter / calendar of collections!

I explained the situation, we both looked at the letter and found a phone number. I said I'd ring up and tony said that guy's on holiday! He understood the problems we'd had. Then, he took away the full and empty boxes, promising not to call again! Even if 'they' add us to his round, he'll remember and not leave any empty sharps boxes here. He made another promise to see 'them in the office' and get them to take us off the list.

Phew!

non pc

As a former colleague would have called it, 'the whited sepulchre syndrome'.

Some are lucky enough to pass thro' the working side of life without much trauma. I'm not saying there's is a charmed working life; far from it. They experience trials and tribulations that rock the proverbial boat...but not to the same extent.

What's brought on the negativity? Article in a newspaper about a 10-year anniversary.

Ten years ago there was an horrific murder of a young Christian lad whose life had been full of promise. Youths from the same school decided to do what they'd call 'have a laugh, a bit of fun'. It ended with an axe embedded in A.W.'s skull. Today, ten years on, one of the murderers has applied to have his sentence reduced. Imagine the effect that has on the family of A.W.

The news report printed images of both of the murderers. 

It has brought back memories for the family and the friends...and schoolteachers. 

What about the non pc? Folk seldom realize these 'miscreants' spent time in school and some hapless folk came across them in the classroom for several years.

'Whited sepulchre' - a reference to staffroom discussion of the failings of several head teachers...one of whom earned the epithet...

'I see no ships...There are No Problems'.

endings and beginnings

Not for me, but for two friends. One I've known for a long time (since the 1970s) and another who's been part of my OU friends for not quite so long. 

Jock, won't mind me calling him that as it's how I knew him at first. Everyone called him Jock and that's how I was introduced to him. 

In the intervening years he qualified as a teacher, taught in various C of E schools and became Head of a Lancashire Junior school.

Teaching is one thing both friends have in common, and junior school teaching at that. Both retire from teaching this year and I wish them both the best of every good thing retirement can bring, 

Arrival