PH is entering a time where she will not have time. There are an insane number of projects she needs to recruit for and not nearly enough staff to complete such a task. After a meeting yesterday to discuss The Project, she pretty much wanted to off herself.
So, PH does hate most sounds. She’s been trying for weeks to ignore the Country Manager’s propensity to consistently make a weird cough that sounds like a rhino snort mixed with a pig oink and has not been very successful. PH anxiously awaits her blessed four day break coming up next week.
She looks forward to forgetting about farmers, the Director and her ‘high priority’ trips, and the latest in a long of project managers to make her life difficult.
While at dinner last night, the Prat was going on about his upcoming vacation which involved going to Scotland “to play golf and horseback ride.” Apparently, where the Prat golfs (through connections of his apparently well connected wife “Fee”) is super deluxe (Gleneages.) It’s something he does “once a year.” The Director, a Scotswoman, was naturally impressed and asked in not so many words, ‘how the hell do you manage that?’
“I married into money.”
What kind of money? Apparently, the kind where you can blow over 800 quid per night. What kind of connections? Try getting married at Westminster Abbey.
Maybe it’s an American vs. British thing, or entitled vs. not, but PH has met some wealthy, well connected people in her day. Rich does not equal manners.
PH supposes she could not be prouder of herself and Hubs. They came from middle class backgrounds in a Southeastern state. They married young. PH loves that her husband is a self made man, doesn’t need to rely on connections to get jobs he has no business having and is 20 times the man the Prat will ever even hope to be. PH loves that while she may not be able to drop serious dosh on a hotel, she is far better at her job than an over educated, pompous Prat.
PH is positively GLEEFUL this morning. As she was in charge of arranging the dinner yesterday evening, she chose her favorite place – a reasonable all you can eat, all you can drink restaurant she can walk to. PH may not do a lot of things well, but she can handle her alcohol. It turns out the Prat is not so good. After receiving one of the most awkward ‘compliments’ ever from him, the Prat proceeded to drink – a lot – knocking back double G&T’s like it was his job.
Therefore, PH was not surprised when after a number of bold and ridiculous statements during the evening, the Prat rocked in an hour late this morning (and continues his pattern of ‘non work’). PH prides herself that even if she parties on a school night, she at least gets to work on time the following morning.
Less than 1 day to go!!
Given the egos involved, a Battle Royale ensues almost every day between the Prat and the Director, leaving the Prat to openly sulk and pound on his keyboard. While PH was initially optimistic with his upper crust accent and experience in the industry, she now sees someone who does little to no work and wishes Bubbles would return.
1.5 days to go. And a dinner to suffer through. Full details tomorrow.
The Prat has worked less than ever today. PH is not sure the reason. She was also embarrassed when he sent her ANOTHER message ASKING HER AGAIN TO LUNCH.
As a way out, PH mentioned they could catch up at dinner tomorrow. Much earlier last week (and in an obvious attempt to kiss the Director’s ass and before she realized she wanted NOTHING to do with the Prat), PH arranged a dinner with her team for tomorrow evening.
Even worse, The Bad Dresser (a new post for that subject and personnel later), brought it up this morning, so now PH now pretty much has to attend.
PH’s general rule is to not get too involved in office drama. She would prefer to keep her headphones on and her head down. Today, she had to witness a sad amount of drama relating to a lunch order. In a span of 30 minutes the entire attitude of the office went from elated, almost weekend happiness to cursing, yelling and combustive. PH cannot even figure out how to tell the story such that it will make sense.
Needless to say, the situation is deteriorating at a rapid pace in the office. People are frustrated and angry. PH, having learned her lesson in jobs past, knows to keep on keeping on. She arrives on time, leaves on time, and gets her work done. She doesn’t have high expectations from The Director. She isn’t earning enough that it makes much of a difference whether she stays or goes.
(The Prat asked PH to lunch AGAIN today).
PH still classifies working for Mr. Boss as her very worst job.
The Prat started with PH’s company in March. During his brief time in the office, PH did not witness what she has in the past 3 work days – mainly a complete inability to sit at his desk for longer than 20 minutes at a time. PH gets that people suffer from ADHD, but she’s never seen someone commit so few hours to an actual job. Apart from his nearly constant (and inexplicable) stretching, he smokes, takes personal calls, arrives late and generally wanders off to places unknown.
PH sees the obvious hypocrisy in this post – she’s writing this blog and neglecting her own work, but she just wishes The Prat could be a little less obvious about things.
(Also, he asked PH to lunch today… PH will need to politely decline as there are 1 million other things she would rather do).
PH’s real name is eight letters – apparently, too long for most people in her office to pronounce. The MILF, who is a close friend and has earned use of the common nickname, applies it frequently at the office. Unfortunately, this has apparently invited others into an overly friendly assumption of the nickname…including and not limited to The Prat. The Prat is based out of the London office and currently visiting PH’s office.
Besides his constant preening (PH suspects he is looking for conversation or interest, of which she wants for neither), she had to yesterday endure a very proper British accented voice saying, “What are you doing tonight, PH-dawg?”
PH felt like informing The Prat that she would be having martial relations with her husband, but forced herself to answer, “Most likely going to the gym.”
7 more working days until he’s gone.