You're Late!

Those of you that have bothered to read the panel on the right will have noticed that I happen to have a retail job to pay my way though Uni. Well this weekend I had the misfortune to be working.

It would seem that in the last few days, the boss, who is the original David Brent, has had a bit of a bollocking over poor sales, poor standards, his haircut or something else equally stupid because he was far from a happy bunny.
On a typical day we're supposed to start at 8:30 in the morning, and work all the way through until 6:00. Thing is, we don't usually start at 8:30. We usually put the kettle on at 8:30 and start around 8:35. It's the done thing.

Now, seeing as the boss has taken a bollocking for his own incompetance, it's our fault. Of course it is, I mean, the boss is perfect right? It's never him who's the complete idiot who completely fecks up the rota so that you've no staff on your busiest trading day, oh no siree.

So we then get the sarcastic "So, what time do you start?" sort of ticking off and to be fair, he does kind of have a point (even if he is being a complete arse). We're payed from 8:30 so we should work from 8:30 - fair enough, we accept that and get on with it.

But of course, when it's getting towards 6:00pm, is he as bothered about the clock then? Oh no! five past, ten past, quarter past all tick by, with not a word of apology. But at least he's happy, he's got his free labour.
I'd speak up but the thing is, he hates me. I'm what you might call an "active thinker". I think about what people say and question them if I think it's wrong. He hates that. He'd rather me be completely passive and accept every word he says as gospel. He's the sort of guy where, if he did something without being told, i'd be initiative but if I do something without being told, I'm a smart-arse'd know-all. But hey-ho, I just ignore him now.

So anyway, guess who was late to work this morning?