well, this is nice

Tweet

Further to my post about parental units often using mobile phones as an easy bribe for screamingly bored toddlers, I was yesterday treated to the other end of the spectrum. The Talk Too Much Mum. Yesterday morning I was quite exhausted by one such mum, here on the bus. A whole hour of her asking Henry where he was was a tad frustrating. Where are you Henry? Henry, where are you? she screeched continuously. Occasionally she interrupted this delightful game of peek-a-boo with something like, No Henry, leave your socks on! I truly don't know how Henry's cherubic cheeks could cope with his giggles. At one point she said to him, I thought you'd be asleep by now, Henry. Yes, and he might well have been if you hadn't spent so much time yapping the same thing at him over and over and over and over again. My direct Line Manager isn't at work this week. She's supping Prosecco and munching on spaghetti in Italy, whilst her minions get observed by even higher management. It's almost as if she deliberately chose to go on a jolly at a time when her team need her most. And, to add insult to injury, she only told a trusted two or three people. There wasn't even a courtesy email awaiting us all on Monday morning. She is not a good manager. She has favourites, she fosters an atmosphere of tittle-tattling, she lies, and she's a bit of a bully. But the point is, she isn't at work this week and the atmosphere - despite observation worries - is relaxed and jovial. I wish she was off more often, although i suppose that the old adage is correct, eh? ... Better the devil you know.