Some people can't even get a simple thing like a fire drill right.
On the afternoon of 6 October, the intermittent siren went off. Despite the fact that we'd all beentold to just lock our case papers away and sit tight until the continuous note started, hordes of people streamed towards the exit. That wasn't dangerous in itself, so i won't rant on about that.
What I will rand and rave about is the number of people who seem intent on ending up in charred piles on the stairs. As soon as the continuous note sounded, I walked to the nearest exit, where I found a mob of such people actually QUEUING to get out. I edged past them and went with another sensible character across the walkway from the Stock Block to the Tower Block. The two of us had completely free access to the stairs, which were deserted.
We went out through the main entrance and walked round outside the building to the assembly point, near which the rest of my section were just emerging from the stairs. I told some of my good colleagues that in the event of a real fire they might find themselves walking into a conflagration and being unable to retreat because of the crowd coming down behind them. They told me that all staff should use the neares exit to their desk, no matter how many hundreds were already trying to use it.
To get the official line on escaping from fire, I contacted Office Services, who are responsible for fire precautionds, but, so far, they haven't replied.
If I was more selfish I would have kept quiet about all this because the fewer people in the way when I make a rapid but dignified exit from danger, the better I like it. However, most people, unlike you, will continue to herd together and flock out of the office.
All this reminds me of an old saying I've just invented: If you act like a sheep in a fire, you'll end up as roast lamb.
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Marton Harry's Concrete Columns. (November 1982)
This isn't the only column which needs to be watched. Several of the concrete columns are being shored up with replacement steel rods, Blu-Tak, superglue, chewing gum and bits of string. It seems that when the building was designed the architects didn't realise it wuld have to bear the weight of carpets, office equipment, people and sparrows.
Members of staff have been taken aside and advised to reduce their weight and the decoration of pillars with heavy paper streamers for Christmas will be discouraged.
CPSA is negotiating for the issue of crash helmets and running shoes, just in case.
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I'm Dreaming of a Summer Holiday. (January 1983)
The rule that only 10% of the staff in any HEO group can be off at any one time gets up my nose. I suppose if there's only nine of you, nobody ever goes on holiday.
My summer holiday this year will be in May because I haven't been here since the year dot and by the time my name came up on the list, June, July and August had all been taken. My second signing has had to be the last week in September. I'll be going to Scotland, so if I try for a tan I'll probably freeze to death.
Other employers aren't like this. I know of people who work for private firms and whose conditions of work are generally terrible, but who can go on holiday more or less when they like.
We're limited in the total amount of leave we can take, so all the strictness about when we take it isn't necessary. Each one of us should be allowed at least a fortnight in the summer and not be forced to take leave in the spring or autumn. We can't all afford to go abroad. I can, but that's beside the point.
With no recruitment taking place, those at the back of the queue are likely to stay there for years. Depressing, isn't it?
What particularly irks me is being told I can't go on leave in particular weeks, then coming in and scratching round for something to do because there's a seasonal drop in my kind of work every summer. In winter, when we're busy, people are away because they couldn't get leave while we were slack.
Anyone who wants to read further on this topic should obtain a copy of the pamphlet, "1001 Ways to Irritate your Staff", HMSO, 1979, £1.50.
For more Complaints, please see my sister site, martonharry2. Sorry, ignorance prevents me providing a direct link to the site.
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Breaks the Ice at Parties. (September 1983)
A large consignment of Bendy Staples and "Blotto" trick pens intended for joke shops in Blackpool have been delivered to DNS in error. They have been the cause of much merriment.
The company responsible for the misdirection also installed the GTN (Goes to Nowhere) telephone system. Now hours of fun can be spent trying to reach other government offices and listening to the amusing noises on the line. Phoning is now an adventure, full of fun and constant surprises.
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Today We Strip the Workers of their Rights in Cheltenham, Tomorrow We Invade Poland. (February 1984)
This used to be such a pleasant country to live in. We had our problems and quarrels, but most people accepted everybody else's right to live and work for a decent standard of living. Britain wasn't ruled by fear.
A terrible change has taken place over the last few years.
The first stage of the campaign to turn the workforce into obedient paupers was the creation of a mass of unemployed people. Everyone in work becomes uneasy at the thought of joining them and there's less likelihood that the employed will stand up to their employers. Super wheezes like sacking council dustmen and replacing them with desperate men employed by cowboy contractors can be tried. Competition in some industries ensures that wages fall to starvation levels as employers try to underprice each other by cutting wages. Yes, it is happening.
The second stage of the campaign involves the destruction of the trade unions, those organisations of the individually powerless against the powerful.
If tade unions in Cheltenham GCHQ can be forbidden, then the same arguments can be used to forbid unions in the Ministry of Defence. Once the principle of abolishing unions is established, excuses can be found for abolishing all unions.
Should trade unions be allowed to interfere with the government's ability to raise money, without which it cannot function? Of course not; deny union membership to Department of National Savings employees.
We're not at present in the battle zone of this undeclared civil war, but we are in the front line, unwilling as we are.
I don't want to be alarmist about the third stage of the campaign against the people of this country, but it will probably involve the neutralisation of "troublemakers". I note that the only public servants to be increasing in numbers are those in the armed forces, police and prison service. There are lots of new prisons being built. Government by consent is being replaced by government by coercion.
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Normal Service Will Be Resumed... (February 1984)
I'm so shocked and embittered by the Cheltenham business that I've decided to hold over all the usual features until next month.
Will the Thought Police and others please note that Robert Muir, to whom any correspondence for this column should be addressed, has moved to DCB Secion 11....
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I Got Them Roller-Towel Blues. (April 1984)
The people who brought you Bendy staples and Blotto pens have introduced a further amusing novelty: True Blue Dye-Dispensing Roller Towels.
Some less charitable members of staff claim that these towels have been introduced as an economy measure. Blue hands mean less hand drying, which means cheaper laundry bills.
Another explanation is that the government is going beyond Victorian Values to Ancient British Values and we are being prepared for a time when we'll go about like the woad-painted warriors who greeted Julius Caesar. The circular explaining all this is probably going about, only you haven't seen it yet.
Paranoids have pointed out that it's not very easy to persecute Civil Servants outside their place of work when they look like ordinary people. Some have even been known to pass themselves off as property speculators or tax lawyers.
This sort of cunning ruse is thwarted if all Civil Servants have blue hands. They can be mistreated, conned and insulted outside their places of work as well as in them.
Extreme paranoids have pointed out that in the Beatles film, Help, those chosen as human sacrifices were painted blue before the ceremony took place. They might have got the colour wrong, but the principle's the same.
It appears we're about to be ritually sacrificed to appease the gods of some primitive religion.
I have this terrible feeling that even if we wash off the dye, the sacrifices will be resolutely carried out.
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Third World, Here We Come. (July 1984)
One ot the tea points on Level 3 had to be closed for several weeks recently because a replacement part for the coffee machine had to be imported from America.
I can remember when Britain used to have an engineering industry, but that seems to have gone the way of so many others.
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