Straight talking politicians

http://vancouver.24hrs.ca/News/2007/02/06/3541075.html

"Minister Bennett was more blunt, stating, "It is my understanding that
you are an American, so I don't give a shit what your opinion is on Canada
or Canadian residents.""

 

<Rapturous applause>

 

Oh, to have politicians like that here.

 

What, the sort who resigne when they've fucked up? Amen to that.

--
_______
..'_/_|_\_'. Ace (brucedotrogers a.t rochedotcom)
\`\ | /`/ GSX-R1000K3 (slightly broken, currently missing)
`\\ | //' BOTAFOT#3, SbS#2, UKRMMA#13, DFV#8, SKA#2, IBB#10
`\|/`
`

 

I guess they could sublet Parliament then as they won't be needing all
that space...

 

Resigning for being thick enough to send such an email. I'd expect the
same in business.

Some years ago, as head-office systems manager at a large
multi-national company, I lost my temper with a particularly
recalcitrant team-member, who blatantly denied that I'd assigned him a
task to perform while I was on holiday. I raised my voice such that
the rest of the corridor, most of whom were the board-level directors,
was able to hear me shouting, even if not the actual content. I
resigned the next day, and still think it was only fair for me to do
so.

--
_______
..'_/_|_\_'. Ace (brucedotrogers a.t rochedotcom)
\`\ | /`/ GSX-R1000K3 (slightly broken, currently missing)
`\\ | //' BOTAFOT#3, SbS#2, UKRMMA#13, DFV#8, SKA#2, IBB#10
`\|/`
`

 

There are many people who simply need a good kick up the arse to pull them
out of the little world they are in.

 

....but we do.

Who said "you're no better than a concentration guard" when faced with
the journalist who justified his door stepping with the Nuremburg
defence of "I'm only doing my job"?

 

That would be the great guardian of socialist civil liberties himself,
Ken the (almost) Red of London.

Phil.

 

Pah. Give me Phil the Greek any day...

"Prince Philip, the President of the World Wildlife Fund, had recently
met George Cohon, President of McDonald's Canada, and had said: 'So you
are the people who are tearing down the Brazilian rainforests and
breeding cattle' to which the reply was: 'I think you are mistaken',
whereupon HRH said 'Rubbish' and stormed away."

 

Fair? Why should you pay the price for another's incompetence and
skulduggery? By shouting the **** to bits you exposed his uselessness.

 

And also my inability to manage the situation and the individual. So
having made the whole (well nearly) world aware of my incompetence in
this area I don't see how I could have stayed.

--
_______
..'_/_|_\_'. Ace (brucedotrogers a.t rochedotcom)
\`\ | /`/ GSX-R1000K3 (slightly broken, currently missing)
`\\ | //' BOTAFOT#3, SbS#2, UKRMMA#13, DFV#8, SKA#2, IBB#10
`\|/`
`

 

Champ says...

The last time a boss shouted at me like that I walked out and drove home
after turning my mobile off. I returned in the morning, walked into his
office and said "have you fucking calmed down now?" We resumed the
discussion at a less heated pace.

 

Loud and prolonged *ding* on that. And Ace behaved with dignity and
professionalism.

Ali

 

Some years back, I went to see a customer in Cardiff - my boss was supposed
to come, but his sprog was taken very ill, so I went alone. I knew said
customer could be difficult. Anyhow, I walked in the door to a barrage of
obscenities, and curses about why wasn't Boss Man John with me. When I could
get a word in, I explained about John's sprog, and said I wasn't staying
around. Politely. Went off and found my lower level contact who fed me
coffee and we both discussed his boss.

Anyhow, I got back to the office, told John all about it next day - he went
ape. Phoned idiot customer and ranted at him, without once swearing - but no
way was I going back in till said idiot had apologised. IN writing. Which
he did. Good bloke, he was. Boss, I mean.

Ali

 

Alison Hopkins says...

I've had irate customers swearing and getting very abusive on the phone
to me. They were given one polite warning about it and then told "I'm
ending this conversation because I don't get paid enough to take this
kind of abuse". One of them phoned my MD in Indiana to complain about me
putting the phone down on him, and was told "He's right, I don't pay him
enough to take your shit; if you want to curse at someone then curse at
me, and when you're done you can take your business elsewhere" then he
put the phone down.

 

Good for him - it's how it should be. I had one customer I liked a great
deal - actually, I liked most of them, still do. But this guy would phone me
and rant about the company, usually after the eighth failed software
upgrade. He didn't swear or personally nasty, but he was pretty hacked off,
and rightly. He'd then ring me up again about ten minutes later and ask
anxiously if I did understand that he wasn't getting at me personally. He
worked for a Forex company in the City: very demanding lot, but they held a
Christmas party for suppliers, like me, that was truly legendary. Taxis both
ways at their expense, and plenty of Bolly, dahling.

The masters at the art of polite complaint were the Army and the Royal
School of Signals. Total gentlemen: but Lord, you knew the bunch you worked
for had fucked up. Always amused me that there was invariably a black
Labrador under the desk. Every so often a gentle paw would be placed on your
foot, or you'd realise that the reason your feet were getting nicely warm
was a sleeping dog that thought you made a good pillow.

Ali

 

AOL. One of my problems with ex partner John, whom you have spoken to,
was bullying and comments on sexuality to our queer marketing director
(a lovely chap). Arguably appropriate or not in the pub. In the
workplace it has no place.

Admittedly offering to kick an individual in the **** until his ears
bled is equally innapropriate.

The PC brigade spend a wealth of time and money pursuing thought crimes
in business (racial, sexual etc.) when simple bullying and similar
innapropriate behaviour is a far greater problem.

 

I worked for a fuckwit at Siemens who did that sort of thing. MInd you, it
was that sort of company.

Understandable, though.

Hear, bloody, hear.

Ali

 

Alison Hopkins says...

My dad's ex-Royal Sigs; he spent a fair time with 30 Sigs working at the
School in Blandford Camp. My little sis was born there just before we
shipped out to Singapore in '66. If you go to the museum at Blandford, a
lot of the photographs of guys working in Malta and the Far East were
taken by him. The main huge photo as you walk into the foyer, of a guy
up a telegraph pole in some dusty environment[1], was taken by my dad
from a pole 15 foot higher erected specially for the purpose.

Dad's polite to excruciating extremes when complaining. Some hugely
embarrassed sod on the other end of a phone will be cringing and dying
to get the problem sorted so my dad won't have to call again.

[1] Malta