Blog Satisfaction

Earlier this week, I had my annual ‘performance appraisal’ at work, which, having been with my current employer for a little over twelve years, meant two things:

1. This was the eleventh appraisal I have participated in, since I started working here in the latter stages of 2006 (we missed a year);
2. It was the eleventh time I have been asked to fill out the same cringey appraisal form in advance of the meeting, and therefore the eleventh time I have offered almost exactly the same responses as a result.

It’s not that I am necessarily averse to performance analysis, and I do acknowledge that it can be beneficial for some employees to assess both themselves and their role within a company – as well as offering feedback to their employer – but I just find the whole process extremely awkward and uncomfortable.

This is by no means a criticism of my boss, as I suspect he sometimes finds the appraisal process as tiresome as I do (particularly now that our firm has grown in size, and I for one keep offering the same tedious responses every year), but the only thing I detest more than discussing my strengths – I’m not really one to blow my own trumpet – is airing any issues I might have.

I hate any form of confrontation at the best of times (just ask my wife), so even though my boss would never see a grievance as anything other than an opportunity to address and resolve the issue (well, within reason), I would personally find it very difficult to raise and discuss, and I much prefer to bottle things up and stay quiet instead. I’m extremely passive like that, so even though it means I rarely get what I want, and my career hasn’t progressed much in over a decade, I do tend to avoid any unwanted disputes (which makes my chosen profession as a litigator all the more confusing).

I am like this most of the time anyway, so it’s not necessarily a work-related issue, and I accept it makes me sound weak; but I’m nearly 39 now, and too old to change my ways by suddenly becoming opinionated and vocal. If anything, it’s sheer laziness on my part, as I just want an easy life, and have very little ambition left these days. Well, apart from writing, which – as you may have gathered – is my main passion.

Anyway, partly because I never really express my true feelings or concerns; partly because I often see this blog as an opportunity to vent my spleen at you fine people (many of whom are strangers and can’t answer back); but mostly because I hope it will be somewhat amusing and I have fuck all else to write about this week, I have decided to repeat some sections of my recent appraisal form below, with what I wish I had said at the time. Just don’t tell my boss.

Enjoy.

Appraisal – 22nd January 2019

Date of last appraisal: How should I fucking know? It’s not like I keep a record of this. I can barely remember what I had for dinner last night.

State your understanding of your main duties and responsibilities:

1. I think I often provide light relief for my colleagues (not sexual relief, mind);
2. Tea and coffee making;
3. Organising work nights out;
4. Legal stuff.

Has the time since your last appraisal been good/bad/satisfactory for you, and why?

Hmm, that depends really.

Some days I get bogged down in the sheer futility of it all, and question my place – not just within the firm, but in the universe as a whole.

I only really like three of my clients, which means I dislike 97.3% of my current caseload, and that makes waking up in the morning a struggle to say the least. Which is odd, because Isaac usually has us up by 5.30am anyway.

I hate my commute, and I have more chance of finding Lord Lucan each morning than a fucking parking space, but I do like most of my colleagues. I’m not saying which ones I don’t like, as you’ll probably get us all together to discuss the issue, and I’d rather shave my gentleman’s area with a breadknife.

Looking back, what do you feel you have done well?

My tea making is impeccable, and I honestly believe my coffee is getting better by the day.

My organisation of work nights out is pretty impressive (if we forget that time I spent the drinks kitty on Jagerbombs, because I was so pissed I forgot everyone’s order when I got to the bar).

I now have a better understanding of which ties go with which shirts, and that it is ok to sometimes mix colours up a bit.

What would you like to improve upon?

I would like to be a better husband and father sometimes.

If I could shave another minute off my 5k time at Parkrun, that would be nice.

I need to eat slower, as I often find that I get indigestion and heartburn after meals.

I could probably recycle more and use less plastic (as could we all).

What elements of work do you find most difficult?

Just getting through each day, frankly.

Also, I could do without Julie’s constant sexual advances*

*I’ve disguised Linda’s real name to preserve her anonymity.

What could be introduced to improve your day?

We could turn the meeting room into a bar?

Nap breaks

‘Strippers Friday’

What do you see as major challenges to our profession?

The Government

Brexit

Do you have any idea about how we can overcome those changes / challenges?

If I knew that, I’d be running the country (which, incidentally, I think I would be fucking awesome at, and I’m not ruling it out).

What training do you think would benefit you over the next year?

Mostly cardio-vascular, but a little weight-training on the arms wouldn’t go amiss. They look like two matchmakers (white chocolate, obvs).

And finally, what do you consider to be your biggest achievement in the past year?

That one time I ‘almost’ fit in the tea/coffee cabinet 

***

NOW do you see why I don’t give my honest opinion (or even the first thing which pops into my head) when I have an appraisal?

Thanks for reading x

 

‘Twas The Blog Before Christmas (2018)

‘Twas the Blog before Christmas, two thousand eighteen

Another year writing things rude and obscene

So, as is tradition, here’s my year in review

Twelve months of bollocks for you to sift through

 

JANUARY

‘The Twelve Blogs of Christmas’ kick started our year

My talents with Photoshop instantly clear

To all, that is, apart from my wife

Who said ‘Eight Maids a Milking’ will haunt her for life

Then in ‘Bloggy Useless’ I expressed some concern

At trying to fill out my tax return

Just logging-in requires a degree

So my password is now ‘fuckyou123’

While in ‘Goldiblogs and the Three Bears’

I wrote about Isaac and his lovely long hair

How Daddy bear put up with all of his shite

Because he insisted that everything must be ‘just right’

To round off the month, my first 10k run

In wintry conditions would not have been fun

But the organisers decided that it would be smart

To cancel the run with us stood at the start

 

FEBRUARY

In February my training suffered a blip

When I started to notice a crunch in my hip

And since it persisted, despite a long bath

A friend recommended his osteopath

The problem, however, is for most of my life

I’ve enjoyed innuendo and here it was rife

But the lady who treated me sighed and just smiled

When she said I was stiff and I laughed like a child

In the next instalment I thought I’d endeavour

To watch a Superbowl for the first time ever

Despite being late, I gave it a go

And tried to at least see the half-time show

But I got quite confused and fell asleep for a bit

(at least Janet Jackson didn’t pop out a tit)

Which leads us nicely to ‘Airblogs as Standard’

Where Fords of Winsford were borderline slandered

For once again lying ‘bout my car’s valuation

I hope their engineer suffers castration

 

MARCH

We drove down to Norwich for our half-term break

Met a kid called Starsky (I mean, for fuck’s sake)

Ollie was poorly, lay on the settee

While Isaac turned Dutch when his bum was ‘schwetty’

My 10k challenge then got off the mark

When I ran in the cold around Oulton Park

And in ‘Best of Bloggish’, a long list was written

As some experts determined the finest in Britain

Their own A-Z for a new coin collection

(although I’m not sure why oak trees gave them such an erection)

In ‘The Fresh Prince of Blog-Air’ I mused about how

Events in my life got me where I am now

I went off to Uni, met my perfect match

And we both settled down to a life in Sandbach

The month then concluded on a grueling Sunday

As I ran around Poynton for my second 10k

 

APRIL

As we moved into April, a fairy appeared

Isaac’s dummies were gathered and then they were cleared

But if you stare very closely, you might just agree

That the Dummy Fairy looks a little like me

I then did more running, when I went to Whitchurch

But as I got to the line, with a stumble and lurch

I collapsed on the ground, was dragged ‘cross the line

They didn’t believe me when I said I was fine

In truth, for a while, everything had gone black

And they started talking about heart attacks

So, in the end, I had to agree

To go via ambulance to A&E

A day spent in Telford, then Leighton (near Crewe)

Where, throughout the night, I gave my review

Of my elderly roommates, all wizened and curled

Each of them poorly, not long for this world

I met George and Freddie, Joseph and Roy

Not to mention old Robert, bereft of all joy

I became ‘squadron leader’; I led the fight

Determined my ‘boys’ would get through the night

Each one of them made it, and I’ll say it again

It was truly an honour to spend time with these men

Then something lighter, as I published my verses

About Princess Kate, surrounded by nurses

Swearing her way through delivering a child

A third royal baby – the press had gone wild

But as she lay there, all painful and tender

Did she threaten to put William’s dick in a blender?

 

MAY

More car trouble in May, as I suffered a crash

When a prick in a van got too close and then smash

My wing mirror destroyed, and to rub in some salt

The lobotomised gibbon now holds me at fault

My insurers were crap, took an age with my car

Were about as supportive as a wet paper bra

The Tatton 10k was next on my list

But I ran far too slowly, my target was missed

Then ‘Some Like it Blog’ explained with some wit

The ten simple reasons why summer is shit

Sunglasses and hayfever among my picks

(plus don’t forget wasps, the vile little pricks)

And if that was depressing, I bid May goodbye

With a cheerful poem about how I might die

The message was clear though – make the most of each day

Because none of us know when we’re going away

 

JUNE

In ‘Blogs and Girls’ I discussed Isaac’s hair

How he plays with his dolls and has dresses he’ll wear

But why shouldn’t boys like princesses in pink?

I’m pleased he ignores what some people think

Then, as a test, I gave Love Island a try

But felt my brain cells wither and die

Just one episode in I had to give up

And turned my attention to this summer’s world cup

Gave my own unique run down for each of the teams

Heading to Russia with their own hopes and dreams

Next, Colshaw Hall, a 10k to complete

But despite an injury to one of my feet,

A cobbled path and one hell of a climb

I completed the course in respectable time

Lastly, I tried my best to be nice

By offering Mark Zuckerberg some advice

On how Facebook might be improved

(he hasn’t replied, so I assume that he’s moved)

 

JULY

First up in July, another 10k

In Alderley Edge, on the year’s hottest day

I crossed the line sweating, but I didn’t care

As I’d beaten my target with seconds to spare

The following week, I tried to cheer up

As England crashed out of another World Cup

Then ending the month, I wrote ‘Mr Blog’

Describing my clients in coarse dialogue

Some of them rude, most of them needy

I’m compared them to Messrs Nosey and Greedy

 

AUGUST

July was cut short, as we went away

So I gave an account of our holiday

Each day of our trip, a witty postcard

On visits to Evesham, and the home of the Bard

Then travels once more as we had to contend

With a ferry to Ireland to see an old friend

A busy four days with no time to rest

I took photos of girls like a rampant sex pest

I thought it was nice to offer a pic

But their mum was behind me and I looked a dick

In ‘Vocablogary’ I thought it a gas

To mispronounced words, like Fadge-It-Ass

Or Modge-Itt-Oh and Jal-App-Ah-Noss

(try it yourself and watch people get cross)

Then, yet again, I ran through the pain

Completing the Birchwood 10k in the rain

Struggled back home to a nice warm tipple

And soothing cream to nurse my sore nipple

 

SEPTEMBER

A busy September, with an entry that you’ll

No doubt remember, as Isaac starts school

It turns out that entry was read by some staff

But they all seemed to like it and it gave them a laugh

Then to our eldest, and I was delighted

To have Ollie sign up for Sandbach United

Just a shame their away strip is like Burnley’s kit

It’s hard to support him in colours that shit

Then back to running, no time for a rest

But the Sandbach 10k was a personal best

(if we discount Whitchurch, but I think that’s fine

as I was technically carried across the line)

Some father-son camping, on Ollie’s school field

But my brand-new tent was not much of a shield

To the rain which came down, and the strong winds that blew

I chose to get pissed, while sat piss-wet through

Then trying to sleep, a crash by our tent

As some dickhead went flying and my tent peg got bent

Not to mention our ‘porch’ getting covered in beer

I’m not sure we’ll bother if they run it next year.

 

OCTOBER

Another short month, and it starts with an app

For mobile banking, which was frankly crap

It turns out Barclays are useless at tech

(all I wanted was to pay in a cheque)

Followed by ‘Don’t Let The Bed Blogs Bite’

Where a moth terrorised me all through the night

Hairy and black, this thing was obscene

It was the largest moth the world’s ever seen

Then moving on from a massive insect

While staying with terror, ‘The Blog Witch Project’

Outlined why Halloween is so very shit

Delinquent children and grown-up outfits

Terrible tricks, and even worse treats

Pumpkin carving and cheap crappy sweets

 

NOVEMBER

A healthy month next, where I watched what I ate

And MyFitnessPal helped me lose weight

Not to mention more running, my final two runs

Cheered on by my wife and both of my sons

First Arley Hall and later Wilmslow

All in the name of raising some dough

A fantastic amount, my challenge was done

(and until next year, no need to run)

Healthier eating, and cutting back beers

I could see my penis for the first time in years

Then, for a change, I spoke to the youth

Wrote about bullying and told them the truth

Whether you’re black or white; straight, bi or gay

We’re all amazing in our own unique way

Just look at me, I’m gangly with specs

But I’m married with kids, which proves I’ve had sex

 

DECEMBER

To end the year, we looked at Christmas

Mariah Carey and brussel sprout gas

All of the things that are suddenly fine

Including eggnog, and fucking hot wine

Then this time last week, we’d packed up our bags

Spent a night at the theatre, surrounded by slags

The women behind us were slaughtered and rough

One had her legs spread, to cool down her chuff.

 

***

 

And that, dear reader, brings us to date

Twelve months of rants, the things that I hate

Forty-six entries, another year done

Thank you for reading, I hope we had fun

 

But don’t get upset, and don’t shed a tear

I’ll be back with more bollocks early next year

May your glasses be full, may your Christmas be white

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

 

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