Out Of The Hot Grease, Then Tossed Under The Bus

Some Days I Really Hate This Place...

I ranted a few days ago about getting a nasty-gram from The Man's Geheime Staatspolizei.

Turns out I was included mostly as a formality, being part of the process, but not the primary fucker-upper that began the investigation.  A letter to my Director actually endorsed me as the person to step in and correct the issue in the future, as well as bitchslap the aforementioned effer-uppers so they learn their lesson.

So, that was nice to find out.

Nothing goes unrewarded, though.  Yesterday yet another nasty-gram wended its way to the Director, accusing my whole section of mopery, dopery and assorted acts of bureaucratic bumbling.

A bit of digging traced the problem to a brand-new employee, who did indeed stick his foot deep up his heinie.  Still, it was a problem easier fixed by a phone call and a deep breath, not a call for flogging and a stint on the rack.

Y'know, if they'd just let me use my warhammer on one or two skulls every year, people would tread a lot more carefully...