We, the Willing, led by the Unknowing
are doing the impossible for the Ungrateful.
We have done so much for so long with so little
We are now qualified to do anything at all.
Anonymous
A characteristically Australian Christmas occupational tradition, now probably obsolete, involved the ‘garbos’ or garbage men. For many decades the garbos were in the habit of leaving a Christmas message, often in verse, for their clients. The message would generally wish the household well for the coming year and was also designed as a reminder of the traditional garbos’ Christmas gift. Almost invariably, in New South Wales at least, this would be bottles or cans of beer left out along with the garbage bin on the last garbage collection day before the season began. Here are a couple of World War I examples of some Melbourne garbo greetings:
YOUR
SANITARY ATTENDANT
WISHES YOU
A Merry Christmas
Awake, awake, all freeborn sons,
Sound your voices loud and clear,
Wishing all a Merry Christmas
Likewise a glad New Year.
While referring to the Sewerage Scheme
As the greatest in the nation,
Until completed, I hope you’ll give
Us some consideration.
The mission of our life just now,
Is to cleanse and purify,
We do our duty faithfully,
Be the weather wet or dry.
So while you’re spending Xmas
In mirth and melody,
And friends to friends some present give,
Just spare a thought for me.
A MERRY CHRISTMAS
In later years this custom seems to have dwindled, with only brief messages, if any, appearing. But even as late as 1983 it was possible to receive something like the following:
CHRISTMAS GREETINGS FROM GARBO SQUAD
(Garbologists to you)
The year from us has gone,
Now it’s time to think upon
Our blessings great and small:
May they continue for us all.
Your health, we hope, like ours is fine.
May 1984 be in similar line,
And in the New Year, we pray,
We’ll serve you truly every day.
To you and yours joy we wish
That Christmas be a full dish
Of gladness, content and good health,
And the New Year bring you wealth.
Brian, Neville, Wayne
Always a time for overindulgence, Christmas at the O.K. Mine back in the roaring days was celebrated with enthusiasm, by some at least:
It was Christmas Eve at O.K. in the days when the mine was in full swing and the local pub was the scene of a glorious general spree. In front of the building there lay many inches of thick red dust, also various stumps. On the following morning several booze-soaked individuals were slumbering in the layers of red powder after many hours of rolling and burrowing about. Waiting outside the pub for the breakfast bell to ring, the mine engineer was accosted by an aboriginal man named Jacky, who, after gazing thoughtfully for some time at the inebriated individuals sleeping in the dust, remarked, ‘My word boss, white Australia all right today, eh?’
Butchers in Australia developed a version of a secret trade jargon, or back-slang, known as ‘Rechtub Klat’ (pronounced ‘rech-tub kay-lat’)—Butcher Talk. This descended from the similar back-slang of migrating or transported butchers from London’s markets, among whom back-slanging was especially rife. In Australia there was little need for trade secrets to be protected, but a secret language allowed butchers to converse while others were present, perhaps commenting on the price to be charged or admiring the physical qualities of a female customer. Another valued use of this lingo was to insult troublesome customers with impunity. A similar convolution of language was also traditionally uttered by butchers in France, where it was known as loucherbem, loucher being French for ‘butcher’. Got that?
Although now spoken by very few, Rechtub Klat was once a relatively well-developed language. Today its vocabulary is fairly restricted to types of meat—feeb for beef, bmal for lamb and gip for pig—and crude but admiring comments such as doog tsub (good bust) and doog esra (good arse), among other such constructions crafted as required. A few other slabs of butcher talk are kool, toh lrig (look, hot girl), gaf (fag, as in cigarette) and toor, meaning root, as in the Australian vulgarism for sexual intercourse. Here are a couple more to translate:
Cuf ecaf
On erom feeb, gip, bmal
Traf
Tish
As well as commenting negatively on fussy customers and admiringly on young ladies, it could be used to let the other butchers know that a particular cut had run out. So if there were on steltuc ni eht pohs, they should sell something different to any customer who wanted steltuc (cutlets). Back in the day it was not unknown for butchers to have complete clandestine conversations among themselves, as featured in the Australian movie The Hard Word (2002), used by the bank-robbing main characters to securely communicate their secrets to each other.
Another old favourite of city work humour is the story of the wharfie and the dockyard guard:
At the end of his shift at the dockyard, the old wharfie would wheel his barrow out for the day. The guard’s job was to search wharfies for any pilfered items that they might have on or about them. But no matter how carefully he frisked the wharfie, the guard never found any loot on the old bloke.
Not too long afterwards, the wharfie retired. A few months later the guard was having a drink in a waterside pub where he came across the wharfie. ‘Howya goin’, mate?’ said the guard and bought the wharfie a beer for old times’ sake. It didn’t take long for the conversation to get around to working life on the docks. After a while, the guard said to the wharfie. ‘You’re well out of there now mate, so why don’t you tell me the truth? I knew yer were knockin’ something off, but we never found anything on you. What were yer stealin’?’
The wharfie smiled broadly as he answered, ‘Wheelbarrows.’
The union dog is a good example of a folktale that circulates in both oral and written versions:
Four union members were discussing how smart their dogs were.
The first was a member of the Vehicle Workers’ Union, who said his dog could do maths calculations. His dog was named T-square, and he told him to go to the blackboard and draw a square, a circle and a triangle, which the dog did with consummate ease.
The Amalgamated Metalworkers’ Union member said he thought his dog, Slide-rule, was much better. He told the dog to fetch a dozen biscuits and divide them into four piles, which Slide-rule did without a problem.
The Liquor Trades’ Union member admitted that both dogs were quite good, but that his could outperform them. His dog, named Measure, was told to go and fetch a stubby of beer and pour seven ounces into a ten-ounce glass. The dog did this without a flaw.
The three men turned to the Waterside Workers’ Union member and said, ‘What can your mongrel do?’
The Waterside Workers’ member, whose dog was called Tea-break, said to his dog, ‘Show these bastards what you can do, mate!’
Tea-break ate the biscuits, drank the beer, pissed on the blackboard, screwed the other three dogs, claimed he injured his back, filled out a workers’ compensation form and shot through on sick leave.
The Australian railways have provided a living and even a way of life for very many people and their families. Railway tradition is rich with poems, songs and yarns about the joys and irritations of keeping the trains running. Old-time railmen will tell you about boiling the billy and frying eggs on their coal shovels as they stoked the boilers of steam trains. Or regale you with yarns about having to burn the sleepers lying beside the track when the coal ran out, just to keep the ‘loco’ going and getting passengers to their destinations on time. Despite this level of commitment and effort, the slow train is a common feature of railway lore, with countless yarns on the same topic being lovingly retold across the decades and across the country.
On many rural and regional lines, trains were once so regularly and reliably late that passengers were resigned to very long waits. But one day on an isolated platform that shall remain nameless, the train arrived smack on time. A delighted and astounded passenger was so overcome by the experience that he ran up to the engine driver and thanked him profusely for arriving on time this once. The driver smiled faintly and replied, ‘No chance, mate, this is yesterday’s train.’
An anonymous poet expressed the desolate feeling of waiting for a train that may possibly never come at all:
All around the water tank
Waitin’ for a train
I’m a thousand miles away from home
Just a’standin’ in the rain
I’m sittin’
Drinkin’
Waitin’
Thinkin’
Hopin’ for a train.
An old railway yarn told in many places:
A couple of mechanics worked together in the railway sheds servicing diesel trains in Brisbane. One day there is a stop-work meeting over some issue or other and the two find themselves sitting around with nothing to do. They’d like to go to the pub, of course, but they can’t leave the workplace. Then one of them, let’s call him Phil, has a bright idea. ‘I’ve heard that you can get a really good kick from drinking diesel fuel. Want to give it a go?’
His mate, we’ll call him Bruce, bored out of his mind, readily agrees. They pour a sizeable glass of diesel each and get stuck in. Sure enough, they have a great day.
Next morning Phil wakes up, gets out of bed and is pleasantly surprised to find that despite yesterday’s diesel spree he feels pretty good. Shortly afterwards, his phone rings. It’s Bruce. He asks Phil how he is feeling. ‘Great mate, no hangover at all. What about you?’
‘No,’ agrees Bruce, ‘all good.’
‘That’s amazing,’ replies Phil. ‘We should get into that diesel more often.’
‘Sure mate,’ says Bruce, ‘but have you farted yet?’
‘What?’ replies Phil, a bit taken aback. ‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Well, make sure you don’t ’cause I’m in Melbourne.’
This tongue-in-cheek description of various railway occupations in the form of a bird-spotting guide is at least as old as the 1930s, and probably earlier. No prizes for guessing which occupational group originated this item:
Engine Drivers—Rare birds, dusky plumage. Generally useful. No song; but for a consideration will jump points, signals etc. Have been known to drink freely near the haunts of man—especially at isolated stations. Occasionally intermarry with station-masters’ daughters (see station-masters). Known colloquially by such names as ‘Hell Fire Jack’, ‘Mad Hector’, ‘Speedy Steve’, ‘Whaler’, ‘Smokebox’ and ‘Bashes’. Great sports, often carried from their engines suffering from shock—caused by wrong information.
Cleaners—Very little is known regarding the habits of these animals. How the name originated remains a mystery.
Guards—Fairly common. Red faces. Can go a long time without water. Easily recognisable by their habit of strutting up and down. Shrill whistle, but no sense of time. Sleep between stations, hence common cry of ‘Up Guards, and at ’em’. Serve no generally useful purpose, but can be trained to move light perambulators, keep an eye on unescorted females, and wave small flags.
Porters—Habits strangely variable. Sometimes seen in great numbers: sometimes not at all. Much attracted by small bright objects. No song, but have been known to hum—between trains. Naturally indolent, but will carry heavy weights if treated rightly (i.e. sufficiently). Natural enemies of passengers (see passengers). Treated with contempt by station-masters.
Station-masters—Lordly. Brilliant plumage. Rarely leave their nests. Ardent sitters. Most naturalists state these birds have no song, but Railway Commissioners dispute this. Have been known to eat porters (see porters). Female offspring occasionally intermarry with very fast Engine Drivers.
Repair Gangs—Plumage nondescript. Migratory in habit. Nests are conspicuous and usually found in clusters near railway lines. No song but passengers assert their plaintive echoing cry of ‘Pa-p-er’ is unmistakable.
Passengers—Very common. Varied plumage. Will stand anything as a rule, but have been known to attack porters (see porters). Often kept in captivity under deplorable conditions by ticket inspectors, guards etc. Will greedily and rapidly devour sandwiches and buns under certain (i.e. rotten) conditions. These birds are harmless when properly treated, and should be encouraged by all nature lovers.
TOTAL ECLIPSE OF COMMUNICATION
A favourite theme of workplace humour is communication—its failure, its absence or its distortion. One example is the shrinking memo, and the message it tried, at first, to convey. This item begins with a memo from the top levels of authority to the next level down, let’s say from the Managing Director to the Works Director. The memo begins:
Tomorrow morning there will be a total eclipse of the sun at 9 o’clock. This is something that we cannot see happen every day, so allow the workforce to line up outside in their best clothes to watch it. To mark the occasion of this rare occurrence I will personally explain it to them. If it is raining we shall not be able to see it very well and in that case the workforce should assemble in the canteen.
The next memo conveys this message down the line from the Works Director to the General Works Manager:
By order of the Managing Director there will be a total eclipse of the sun at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning.
If it is raining we shall not be able to see it very well on the site in our best clothes. In that case, the disappearance of the sun will be followed through in the canteen. This is something that we cannot see happen every day.
The General Works Manager then writes to the Works Manager an even briefer version of this rapidly disintegrating communication:
By order of the General Manager we shall follow through, in our best clothes, the disappearance of the sun in the canteen at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning.
The Managing Director will tell us whether it is going to rain. This is something which we cannot see every day.
In turn, the Works Manager passes this on to the Foreman in another memo:
If it is raining in the canteen tomorrow morning, which is something we cannot see happening every day, our Managing Director in his best clothes, will disappear at 9 o’clock.
Finally, the Foreman posts the message, or at least a version of it, on the Shop Floor noticeboard. It reads:
Tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock our Managing Director will disappear. It is a pity that we cannot see this happen every day.
Whatever can go wrong will go wrong. That’s Murphy’s Law. Even if you haven’t heard of this universal truth, you’ll be familiar with the general principle and the fact that whatever does go wrong at work will be at the worst possible time and in the worst possible way.
It seems things go wrong for us so often and with such devastating consequences that Murphy’s Law alone cannot predict all the consequences of human error and disaster. There is a worryingly large number of similar laws, corollaries, axioms and the like. They provide advice hard won from bitter experience. You know the sort of thing. If you drop a slice of buttered bread, it will unfailingly land butter-side down.
And it’s not just bread and butter, either. What about the curious fact that everything always seems to cost more than you happen to have in your pocket or bank account. Or, when you try to take out a loan, you have to prove that you don’t really need it. Here are some further helpful hints:
The probability of a given event occurring is inversely proportional to its desirability.
Left to themselves, things will always go from bad to worse.
Any error in any calculation will be in the area of most harm.
A short cut is the longest distance between two points.
Work expands to fill the time available.
Mess expands to fill the space available.
If you fool around with something long enough, it will eventually break.
The most important points in any communication will be those first forgotten.
Whatever you want to do, you have to do something else first.
Nothing is as simple as it seems.
Everything takes longer than expected.
Nothing ever quite works out.
It’s easier to get into a thing than to get out of it.
When all else fails, read the instructions.
Reading these little difficulties and dilemmas of work life suggests that none of us should bother getting out of bed in the morning. And, of course, not everything in life goes wrong. Sometimes you can have really great days when the sun shines, the birds sing and you feel on top of the world.
But next time you seem to be having a day like this, just remind yourself of the last law of working life:
If everything seems to be going well, you probably don’t know what is going on.
Once upon a time there were four people, named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody and Nobody.
There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.
Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.
Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody’s job.
Everybody thought Anybody could do it, but Nobody realised that Everybody didn’t do it.
It ended with Everybody blaming Somebody, when really, Nobody could accuse Anybody.
Some old favourites in Australian workplaces:
The opulence of the front office decor varies inversely with the fundamental solvency of the company.
No project ever gets built on schedule or within budget.
A meeting is an event at which minutes are kept and hours are lost.
The first myth of management is that it exists at all.
A failure will not appear until a new product has passed its final inspection.
New systems will generate new problems.
Nothing motivates a worker more than seeing the boss put in an honest day’s work.
After all is said and done, a lot more is said than done.
The friendlier the client’s secretary, the greater the chance that the competition has already secured the order.
In any organisation the degree of technical competence is inversely proportional to the level of management.
The grass is brown on both sides of the fence.
No matter what stage of completion the project reaches, the cost of the remainder of the project remains the same.
Most jobs are marginally better than daytime TV.
TWELVE THINGS YOU’LL NEVER HEAR AN EMPLOYEE TELL THE BOSS
Wishful thinking is nothing new, as this list of helpful suggestions implies:
Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 5 pm and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is always refreshing.
If it’s really a ‘rush job’, run in and interrupt me every ten minutes to inquire how it’s going. That greatly aids my efficiency.
Always leave without telling anyone where you’re going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are.
If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books or supplies, don’t open the door for me. I might need to learn how to function as a paraplegic in future and opening doors is good training.
If you give me more than one job to do, don’t tell me which is the priority. Let me guess.
Do your best to keep me late. I like the office and really have nowhere to go or anything to do.
If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. Leaks like that could get me a promotion.
If you don’t like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations.
If you have special instructions for a job, don’t write them down. If fact, save them until the job is almost done.
Never introduce me to the people you’re with. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.
Be nice to me only when the job I’m doing for you could really change your life.
Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any and it’s nice to know someone is less fortunate.
This is one of the great classics of workplace humour. It was old when it was kicking around the old Post Master General’s department in the late 1960s. Versions can still be found on the internet:
Internal Memo # 125/JCg RE : EXCESSIVE ABSENCE
TO ALL PERSONNEL.
Due to excessive absences during the past year, it has become necessary to put the following new rules into operation immediately.
1. SICKNESS
No excuse. The Management will no longer accept your Doctor’s Certificate as proof. We believe that if you are able to go to your doctor, you are able to attend work.
2. DEATH (YOUR OWN)
This will be accepted as an excuse. We would like two weeks’ notice however, since we feel it is your duty to train someone else for your job.
3. DEATH (OTHER THAN YOUR OWN)
This is no excuse. There is nothing you can do for them and henceforth no time will be allowed off for funerals. However, in case it should cause some hardship to some of our employees, please note that on your behalf the Management has a special scheme in conjunction with the local council for lunchtime burials, thus ensuring that no time is lost from work.
4. LEAVE OF ABSENCE FOR AN OPERATION
We wish to discourage any thoughts you may have of needing an operation and henceforth no leave of absence will be granted for hospital visits. The management believes that as long as you are an employee here, you will need what you already have and should not consider having any of it removed. We engaged you for your particular job with all your parts and having anything removed would mean that we would be getting less of you than we bargained for.
5. VISITS TO THE TOILETS
Far too much time is spent on the practice. In future the procedure will be that all personal shall go in alphabetical order. For example:—those with the surname beginning ‘A’ will go from 9.30 to 9.45. ‘B’ will go from 9.45 to 10.00. Those of you who are unable to attend at your appropriate time will have to wait until the next day when your turn comes up.
Have a nice day.
THE MANAGEMENT
Pigs do not fly, of course, but in the world of work they can—and sometimes must—be made to do so:
Another day ends …
All targets met
All systems in working order
All customers satisfied
All staff eager and enthusiastic
All pigs fed and ready to fly.
TOTAL QUALITY MANAGEMENT (TQM)
‘Sucking up’, ‘brown-nosing’, ‘crawling to the boss’ and so on are widely reviled and widely practised arts of working life. There is no shortage of occupational humour on this subject. One old favourite is the ‘Total Quality Management (TQM)’ flowchart, a tersely effective rendition of the frequent reality of corporate and bureaucratic survival.
But, if you do blame someone else, just remember …
The toes you step on today
May well be attached to the legs
That support the arse
You need to kiss
Tomorrow.
Bureaucracies of all kinds, public and private, find it necessary to develop agreed ways of doing things. These go by various names, but ‘policy’ is a widely used term for such arrangements. Those affected by such policies are often at a loss to understand how they came about, even when consultation has been a part of the policy development process. This biblical-sounding description provides a glimpse of policy-making in action. It is not reassuring:
In the beginning was the Plan.
And then came the Assumptions.
And the Assumptions were without form.
And the Plan was without substance.
And darkness was upon the face of the Workers.
And they spoke among themselves, saying,
‘It is a crock of shit, and it stinks.’
And the Workers went unto their Supervisors and said,
‘It is a pail of dung, and we can’t live with the smell.’
And the Supervisors went unto their Managers, saying,
‘It is the container of the excrements, and it is very strong, such that none may abide by it.’
And the Mangers went unto their Directors, saying,
‘It is a vessel of fertiliser, and none may abide its strength.’
And the Directors spoke among themselves, saying to one another,
‘It promotes growth, and it is very powerful.’
And the Vice Presidents went to the President, saying unto him,
‘This new plan will actively promote the growth and vigor of the company
with very powerful effects.’
And the President looked upon the Plan and saw that it was good.
And the Plan became Policy.
And that is how shit happens.
The inevitable consequences of failing to be competitive fall, as this tale shows, on those at the bottom of the ladder:
A Japanese company and an American company decided to have a canoe race on the Missouri River. Both teams practiced long and hard to reach their peak performance before the race. On the big day, the Japanese won by a mile.
The Americans, very discouraged and depressed, decided to investigate the reason for the crushing defeat. A management team made up of senior management was formed to investigate and recommend appropriate action.
Their conclusion was the Japanese had 8 people rowing and 1 person steering, while the American team had 8 people steering and 1 person rowing. So American management hired a consulting company referred to them by the US government and paid them a large amount of money for a second opinion.
The consultants advised that too many people were steering the boat, while not enough people were rowing. To prevent another loss to the Japanese, the rowing team’s management structure was totally reorganised into 3 steering supervisors, 1 area steering superintendent, 1 publicity manager, 1 HR diversity coordinator, 1 union rep, and 1 rower.
They also implemented a new performance system that would give the 1 person rowing the boat greater incentive to work harder. It was called the ‘Rowing Team Quality First Program’, with a lunch and a free company pen for the rower. There was discussion of getting new paddles, canoes and other equipment, extra vacation days for practices and performance-tied bonuses, but that decision was held up in committee.
The next year the Japanese won by two miles.
Humiliated, the American management laid off the rower for poor performance, halted development of a new canoe, sold the paddles and cancelled all capital investments for new equipment. The money from all sales and all forecasted monies saved from further competition was distributed to the senior executives as bonuses and the next year’s racing team was out-sourced to India.
The end.
PROSPECTIVE EMPLOYEE ASSESSMENT
Hopefully, you’ll never have to go for a job in this place:
Subject: Prospective Employee Assessment
To: All Managers
The following guidelines shall be followed when hiring new personnel:
Take the prospective employees you are trying to place and put them in a room with only a table and two chairs. Leave them alone for two hours without any instruction. At the end of that time, go back and see what they are doing.
If they have taken the table apart in that time, put them in Engineering.
If they are counting the butts in the ashtray, assign them to Finance.
If they are screaming and waving their arms, send them off to Manufacturing.
If they are talking to the chairs, Personnel is a good place for them.
If they are sleeping, they are Management material.
If they are writing up the experience, send them to Technical Publications.
If they don’t even look up when you enter the room, assign them to Security.
If they try to tell you it’s not as bad as it looks, send them to Marketing.
And if they have left early, put them in Sales.
SPECIALISED HIGH-INTENSITY TRAINING (S.H.I.T.)
Another dig at office bureaucracy and official policies:
Interoffice Memo
To: All Employees
From: Management
Subject: Specialised High-Intensity Training
In order to assure the highest levels of quality work and productivity from our employees, it will be our policy to keep all employees well trained through our program of Specialised High-Intensity Training (S.H.I.T.). We aim to give our employees more S.H.I.T. than anyone else.
If you feel that you do not receive your share of S.H.I.T. on the job, please contact your supervisor. You will immediately be placed at the top of the S.H.I.T. list. Your supervisor has been specially trained to give you all the S.H.I.T. you can handle.
Employees who do not take any S.H.I.T. will be placed in the Departmental Employee Evaluation Program for Specialised High-Intensity Training (D.E.E.P.S.H.I.T.). Those who fail to complete D.E.E.P.S.H.I.T. will be sent to Employee Attitude Training for Specialised High-Intensity Training (E.A.T.S.H.I.T.). Since the supervisory staff took S.H.I.T. before their promotions, they do not have to do S.H.I.T. anymore; they are already full of S.H.I.T.
If you are already proficient in S.H.I.T., you may be interested in giving S.H.I.T. to other workers. We can add your name to the Basic Understanding Lecture List for Specialised High-Intensity Training (B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T.). Those who complete B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T. will get the S.H.I.T. jobs and can apply for promotion to Director of Intensity Programming for Specialised High-Intensity Training (D.I.P.S.H.I.T.).
If you have further questions, please direct them to:
Head of Training, Specialised High-Intensity Training (H.O.T.S.H.I.T.).
Thank you,
Business/Industrial Guidance for Specialised High-Intensity Training (B.I.G.S.H.I.T.)
P.S. If you write broken code, you will become a member of Project for Idiot Employee Continuing Education of Specialised High-Intensity Training (P.I.E.C.E. of S.H.I.T.).
One of the realities of worklife is the profound cynicism expressed by many employees at the circumstances of their employment. Dissatisfaction with pay, management, conditions, job security and so on and on are constant factors of modern worklife. A lot of occupational humour reflects these disenchantments, none perhaps more than this one, usually known as ‘Early Retirement Program’:
Due to the financial situation within the farming industry, the government has decided to place all farmers over the age of 60 on an early retirement scheme.
The scheme (Retire Agricultural Personnel Early) will be known as RAPE. Persons selected to be RAPED can apply for Special Help After Farm Termination or SHAFT.
Those who have been RAPED and SHAFTED will then be reviewed under the Scheme for Retired Early Workers or SCREW. Please note: You can only be RAPED once, SHAFTED twice but SCREWED as many times as the government deems appropriate.
Persons who have been RAPED can apply to get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependants) or HERPES (Half Earnings for Rural Personnel on Early Severance).
Those farmers remaining in the industry will receive as much Special High-Intensity Training or SHIT and Caring Responsive Assistance Programme or CRAP as possible.
As you are aware, the government has always prided itself on the amount of SHIT and CRAP it gives to farmers. Should you feel, however, you are not receiving enough SHIT, or that you are not responding to all the CRAP, please bring this to the attention of the Minister as he has been especially trained to give you all the SHIT and CRAP that you can handle.
DIFFERENCES BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR BOSS
There are quite a few, in case you haven’t already noticed:
When you take a long time, you’re slow.
When your boss takes a long time, he’s thorough.
When you don’t do it, you’re lazy.
When your boss doesn’t do it, he’s too busy.
When you make a mistake, you’re an idiot.
When your boss makes a mistake, he’s only human.
When doing something without being told, you’re overstepping your authority.
When your boss does the same thing, that’s initiative.
When you take a stand, you’re being pig-headed.
When your boss does it, he’s being firm.
When you overlooked a rule of etiquette, you’re being rude.
When your boss skips a few rules, he’s being original.
When you please your boss, you’re ass-kissing.
When your boss pleases his boss, he’s being cooperative.
When you’re out of the office, you’re wandering around.
When your boss is out of the office, he’s on business.
When you have a day off sick, you’re always sick.
When your boss has a day off sick, he must be very ill.
When you apply for leave, you must be going for an interview.
When your boss applies for leave, it’s because he’s overworked.
A guide to decoding the real meaning of everyday office talk:
| It’s a pleasure | — What a hassle. |
| Glad to be of help | — I’d rather be doing something else. |
| Have a nice day | — Drop dead, it’s all the same to me. |
| How are you? | — Spare me the details. I really don’t care. |
| Long time, no see | — Thank God. |
| Can I help you? | — Oh, please say ‘No’. |
| That’s really interesting | — What’s for lunch? |
| Lovely outfit, is it new? | — My God, I bet they laughed you out of the shop. |
| Did you have a nice weekend? | — Please spare me your usual rambling account. |
| Can’t stop, I’ve another appointment | — With the speaking clock. |
| Sorry to hear your hampster died | — Get a life. |
| Of course this idea will work | — Your guess is as good as mine. |
| I would love to be involved in this project | — I would rather scrape graffiti off walls. |
| No problem | — So long as I reschedule my life for the next week and work until midnight every night. |
This is another tale that turns on tensions between the boss and the workers. This long-standing element of Australian life is no less prevalent today, though it may take more modern forms than this traditional yarn.
Once upon a time there was a little red hen who scratched around and found some grains of wheat. She called upon the other animals to help her plant the wheat.
‘Too busy,’ said the cow.
‘Wrong union,’ said the horse.
‘Not me,’ said the goose.
‘Where’s the environmental impact study?’ asked the duck.
So the hen planted the grain, tended it and reaped the wheat. Then she called for assistance to bake some bread.
‘I’ll lose my unemployment relief,’ said the duck.
‘I’ll get more from the RED scheme,’ said the sheep.
‘Out of my classification, and I’ve already explained the union problem,’ said the horse.
‘At this hour?’ queried the goose.
‘I’m preparing a submission to the IAC,’ said the cow.
So the little red hen baked five lovely loaves of bread and held them up for everyone to see.
‘I want some,’ said the duck and sheep together.
‘I demand my share,’ said the horse.
‘No,’ said the little red hen. ‘I have done all the work. I will keep the bread and rest awhile.’
‘Excess profit,’ snorted the cow.
‘Capitalist pig,’ screamed the duck.
‘Foreign multi-national,’ yelled the horse.
‘Where’s the workers’ share?’ demanded the pig.
So they hurriedly painted picket signs and paraded around the hen, yelling, ‘We shall overcome.’ And they did, for the farmer came to see what all the commotion was about.
‘You must not be greedy, little red hen,’ he admonished. ‘Look at the disadvantaged goose, the underprivileged pig, the less fortunate horse, the out-of-work duck. You are guilty of making second-class citizens out of them. You must learn to share.’
‘But I have worked to produce my own bread,’ said the little red hen.
‘Exactly,’ said the farmer, ‘that is what free enterprise is all about these days. You are free to work as hard as you like. If you were on a communist farm, you would have to give up all the bread. Here you can share it with your needy companions.’
So they lived happily ever after. But the university research team, having obtained a large government grant to study this odd happening, wondered why the little red hen never baked any more bread.
Based, allegedly, on a folktale that has itself been published in book form since at least the nineteenth century, this photocopied satire from the 1980s still resonates today with its down-to-earth simplification of industrial politics. Like most folktales, this one has a sharp point to make.
This urban legend nicely encapsulates the workplace fantasy of getting one’s own back on an especially difficult customer:
A steward was working in First Class on a plane from South Africa to Sydney. On the flight was a very wealthy and snooty elderly couple. A little way into the flight, the steward came along the aisle to where the couple was seated. ‘What would you like to drink, madam?’ he asked.
There was no reply. Thinking that the woman might not have heard him, the steward asked again what she would like to drink.
Once more she ignored him. But her husband leaned over and said, ‘My wife doesn’t speak to the help. She would like a bottle of red.’
So the steward went off to get the wine but as he walked away the man called out, ‘Boy, boy!’ The steward came quickly back to the couple. ‘Yes Sir, how can I help you?’
The man said, ‘My wife was wondering about the situation with domestic help in Australia.’
Swiftly the steward replied, ‘Oh Sir, I’m sure Madam will have no trouble at all finding a job.’
According to the union official who told this tale, the steward was sacked by the airline but later reinstated. The story simultaneously takes down the snobbishness of the first-class couple, shows the rapier-sharp wit of the worker, and chimes in well with our cherished notions of Australia as a place of equality.
Despite the modernity of most of these expressions and their transmission by current technological channels, their themes are often the traditional ones of humour, satire, of catching out the unwary and with a general down-to-earth view of life at their base. One popular item of this kind is based on a fable at least as old as Aesop, continuing that venerable cautionary narrative into the modern world in ways that most of us can relate to.
When the lord made man, all the parts of the body argued over who would be the BOSS.
The BRAIN explained that since he controlled all the parts of the body, he should be the BOSS.
The LEGS argued that since they took the man wherever he wanted to go, they should be the BOSS.
The STOMACH countered with the explanation that since he digested all the food, he should be the boss.
The EYES said that without them, man would be helpless, so they should be BOSS.
Then the ARSEHOLE applied for the job.
The other parts of the body laughed so hard that the ARSEHOLE got mad and closed up.
After a few days the BRAIN went foggy, the LEGS got wobbly, the STOMACH got ill and the EYES got crossed and unable to see.
They all conceded defeat and made the ARSEHOLE the BOSS.
This proves that you don’t have to be a brain to be BOSS …
JUST AN ARSEHOLE.
This one has been popular in the social media and emails of ‘seniors’:
Subject: Pensioner shopping at Coles
Yesterday I was at my local Coles store buying a large bag of Chum dog food for my loyal pet and was in the checkout queue when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had, an elephant? So, since I’m retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn’t have a dog, I was starting the Chum Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in hospital last time, but I’d lost 2 stone before I woke up in intensive care with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.
I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pockets with Chum nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in the queue was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked me if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off the kerb to sniff an Irish Setter’s arse and a car hit me.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard. I’m now banned from Coles.
Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of daft things to say.
They are the bane of working life, but we must have them, as this notice suggests:
Are you lonely?
Hate having to make decisions?
Rather talk about it than do it?
Want to pass the buck?
HOLD A MEETING!
Sharpen your skills in meaningless verbal interaction.
Learn to off-load decisions.
Write volumes of meaningless rhetoric.
Feel important, impress your colleagues.
Catch up on your sleep.
AND ALL ON WORK TIME!
Meetings:
the practical alternative to work
Spiritual help for a common workplace problem:
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
the courage to change the things I cannot accept,
and the wisdom to hide the bodies of those I had
to kill today because they got on my nerves.
And also, help me to be careful of the toes I step on
today as they may be connected to the feet I may have
to kiss tomorrow.
Help me to always give 100% at work …
12% on Monday
23% on Tuesday
40% on Wednesday
20% on Thursday
5% on Friday
And help me to remember …
When I’m having a really bad day,
and it seems that people are trying to wind me up,
that it takes 42 muscles to frown, 28 to smile and
only 4 to extend my arm and smack someone in the mouth!
There are various versions of this send-up of the job application. It probably originated in America and usually begins with an assurance that ‘This is an actual job application that a 17-year-old boy submitted at a fast-food hamburger restaurant; and they hired him because he was so honest and funny!’:
NAME: Greg Bulmash
SEX: Not yet. Still waiting for the right person.
DESIRED POSITION: Company’s President or Vice President. But seriously, whatever’s available. If I was in a position to be picky, I wouldn’t be applying here in the first place.
DESIRED SALARY: $185,000 a year plus stock options and a Michael Ovitz style severance package. If that’s not possible, make an offer and we can haggle.
EDUCATION: Yes.
LAST POSITION HELD: Target for middle management hostility.
SALARY: Less than I’m worth.
MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT: My incredible collection of stolen pens and ‘post-it’ notes.
REASON FOR LEAVING: It sucked.
AVAILABLE FOR WORK: Of course. That’s why I’m applying.
PREFERRED HOURS: 1.30–3.30 pm, Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.
DO YOU HAVE ANY SPECIAL SKILLS?: Yes, but they’re better suited to a more intimate environment.
MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER? If I had one, would I be here?
DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL CONDITIONS THAT WOULD PROHIBIT YOU FROM LIFTING UP TO 50 LBS? 50 lbs of what?
DO YOU HAVE A CAR? I think the appropriate question here would be ‘Do you have a car that runs?’
HAVE YOU RECEIVED ANY SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION? I may already be the winner of the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
DO YOU SMOKE?: On the job, no, on my breaks, yes.
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE DOING IN FIVE YEARS? Living in the Bahamas with a fabulously wealthy dumb blonde supermodel who thinks I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread. Actually, I’d like to be doing that now.
DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE?: Yes. Absolutely.
SIGN HERE: Aries.
This conversation gives the boss’s point of view about you having a day off:
So, you want the day off:—
Let’s take a look at what you are asking for:—
There are 365 days in the year available for work.
There are 52 weeks in the year, in which you already have two days off per week, leaving 261 days available for work.
Since you spend 16 hours each day away from work, you have used up 170 days, leaving only 91 days available.
You spend 50 minutes each day in coffee breaks which accounts for 23 days per year, leaving only 68 days available.
With a 1-hour lunch period each day, you have used up another 46 days, leaving only 22 days available for work.
You normally spend 2 days per year on sick leave.
This leaves only 20 days available for work.
We are off for 5 holidays per year, so your available working time is down to 15 days.
We generously give you 14 days vacation per year, which leaves only 1 day available for work, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you take that day off.
A comment on ‘downsizing’, ‘redeployment’ and ‘change management’, euphemisms for getting the sack:
Ten public servants standing in a line,
One of them was downsized—then there were nine.
Nine public servants who must negotiate,
One joined the union—then there were eight.
Eight public servants thought they were in heaven,
’til one of them was redeployed—then there were seven.
Seven public servants, their jobs as safe as bricks,
But one was reclassified—then there were six.
Six public servants trying to survive,
One of them was privatised—then there were five.
Five public servants ready to give more,
But one golden handshake reduced them to four.
Four public servants full of loyalty,
Their jobs were advertised—then there were three.
Three public servants under review,
One left on secondment—then there were two.
Two public servants coping on the run,
One went out on stress leave—then there was one.
The last public servant agreed to relocate,
Replaced by ten consultants at twice the hourly rate.
The ability to ‘speak the lingo’ is an essential requirement of belonging to any human group. We need to be able to understand and to speak in the language appropriate to the people, the time, place and circumstances. Work groups are no different in this respect. The significant numbers of humorous items that deal with some aspect of occupational language suggests that this is an important element in modern worklife, a fact that makes language and its uses well worth our consideration.
The glossary or dictionary of technical terms is a standard in many professions, trades and industries. These take many forms, including engineering terms, mathematical equations, scientific formulations and so on. Usually these compilations are spoofs on the jargon of the business they represent. A relatively recent addition to these ranks is the ‘Glossary of Management Terms’. This includes such delightful definitions as:
TO DELEGATE—to pass the buck
TO DELEGATE UPWARDS—to pass the buck back
URGENCY—panic
EXTREME URGENCY—blind panic
FORECAST—a guess
LONG-RANGE FORECAST—a wild guess
LEADERSHIP—having a loud voice
JOB ROTATION—determining who gets the crap jobs this week
INDUSTRIAL BY-PRODUCT—our waste
ENVIRONMENTAL POLLUTION—other people’s waste
PILFERING—theft by employees
FRINGE BENEFITS—theft by executives
PERFORMANCE APPRAISAL—revenge
ORGANISATION—reaching the office earlier than the boss
SUPPLEMENTARY INFORMATION—bullshit
The use of jargon to impress and obfuscate is also frequently encountered within occupational environments. Decades ago this was recognised in the anonymous creation of a device that is still common in various forms. Usually known as ‘The Jargon Generator’, this useful item allows the ambitious manager or professional to instantly generate impressive-sounding but safely meaningless phrases. These can be used with wild abandon at every possible opportunity, amazing colleagues and impressing clients. Simply pick a numbered word from each column, such as 0 6 9, to produce an impressive phrase of gobbledygook, in this case, ‘integrated transitional contingency’.
There are many different versions of The Jargon Generator. It’s especially popular in high-tech and IT occupations and, of course, your required jargon can now be accomplished online with a variety of totally automated matrixes—here’s some for you!
| Column 1 | Column 2 | Column 3 |
| 0. integrated | 0. management | 0. options |
| 1. total | 1. organisational | 1. flexibility |
| 2. systematised | 2. monitored | 2. capability |
| 3. parallel | 3. reciprocal | 3. mobility |
| 4. functional | 4. digital | 4. programming |
| 5. responsive | 5. logistical | 5. concept |
| 6. optimal | 6. transitional | 6. time-phase |
| 7. synchronised | 7. incremental | 7. projection |
| 8. compatible | 8. third-generation | 8. hardware |
| 9. balanced | 9. policy | 9. contingency |
Versions and variations of this one have been around since at least the 1980s. It is also known as ‘Administratium’ or ‘Bureaucratium’. The joke seems to have originated in scientific research establishments, but applies to any large organisation where there is a significant bureaucracy—in other words, everywhere.
Scientists at CERN in Geneva have announced the discovery of the HEAVIEST element yet known to science.
AND yes … it was discovered in Australia, which is now the leading producer.
The new element is Governmentium (Gv). It has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.
These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of leftonlike particles called peons.
Since Governmentium has no electrons or protons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes in contact.
A tiny amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction normally taking less than a second to take from four days to four years to complete.
Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2–6 years. It does not decay but instead undergoes a reorganisation in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.
In fact, Governmentium’s mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganisation will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass.
When catalysed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium, an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many peons but twice as many morons.
All of the money is consumed.
Relationships at work can sometimes get out of hand:
A man works in an office with a beautiful female secretary. His birthday arrives and, for no apparent reason, the secretary invites the man over to her place for a drink and dinner. Hardly able to believe his luck, the man quickly accepts and after work they drive over to the secretary’s flat.
Inside, she tells the man to make himself comfortable while she goes into the other room. She says that she will be back in a minute or two. Anticipating a night of passion, the man undresses and waits naked with an enormous erection. Suddenly, the secretary opens the double doors into the lounge room to reveal the man’s wife, children, friends and co-workers all chorusing ‘Surprise, surprise … !’
Surprise and embarrassment are the joint themes of ‘The Surprise Party’, as it is usually known. American folklorists have made quite a study of this tale and its variations. They have found early tellings of it in the 1920s and in the March 1997 Reader’s Digest it turned up in the guise of a true story, an incident that really happened to the ex-boss of a reader—Reader’s Digest probably paid the contributor good money for it, too. In Australia, it is more usually told as a joke or humorous yarn—a fabrication—than as a contemporary legend or apparent ‘truth’.
Authorship of this piece is often attributed to one ‘Eddy Current’. It constructs a narrative that depends on occupational jargon terms to create its sexual double entendre:
One night when his charge was high, Micro Farad decided to seek out a cute coil to let him discharge. He picked up Milli Amp and took her for a ride on his mega cycle. They rode across a Wheatstone bridge, around the sine waves and stopped in a magnetic field beside a flowing current.
Micro Farad was attracted by Milli Amp’s characteristic curve and soon had her fully charged and excited her resistance to a minimum. He laid her on the ground potential and raised her frequency and lowered her inductance. He pulled out his high frequency probe and inserted it into her socket, connecting them in parallel and short-circuiting her resistance shunt so as to cause surges with the utmost intensity. Then, when fully exited, Milli Amp mumbled ‘OHM, OHM, OHM’. With his tube operating at a maximum and her field vibrating with current flow, it caused her to shunt over and Micro Farad rapidly discharged, drawing every electron. They fluxed all night, trying different connections and sockets until his magnet had a soft core and lost its field strength.
Afterwards, Milli Amp tried self-induction and damaged her solenoids in doing so. With his battery discharged, Micro Farad was unable to excite his field, so they spent the night reversing polarity and blowing each other’s fuses.
Satires on official forms, policies and regulations are especially rich on the subject of requesting leave. This one has been around since at least the 1960s:
COMMONWEALTH OF AUSTRALIA
FEDERAL GOVERNMENT
DIRECTIVE E/E/A. 5769/1 URGENT
TO: ALL employees
RE: Standard Procedure Instructions in Case of Death of Employees
It has recently been brought to the attention of this office that many employees have been dying whilst on duty, for apparently no good reason at all. Furthermore, the same employees are refusing to fall over after they are dead.
Where it can be proved that the employee is being held up by a bench, counter, desk, typewriter, or any other support which is the property of the Department, a 90 day period of grace will be granted.
The following procedure will hereforth be strictly adhered to:
If after several hours it is noticed that an employee has not moved or changed position, the Department Head will promptly investigate. Because of the highly sensitive nature of our employees and the very close resemblance between death and their natural working attitude, the investigation will be made quietly so as to prevent waking the employee if he or she is asleep. If some doubt as to his or her true condition is felt, the extending of a pay envelope is a fine test. If the employee does not grasp it, it may be reasonably assumed that he or she is dead.
NOTE: In some cases, the instinct to extend the hand for the pay envelope is so strongly developed that a spasmodic ‘clutcher reflex’ action may even occur after death. In all cases, a sworn statement by the dead person must be filled out in full detail on a special form provided for the purpose. Fifteen copies will be made, three copies to be sent to the Commonwealth Department, two to the State Office, and two to the deceased. The others, in accordance with usual routine, will be promptly lost in the Department’s files.
The same concerns lie behind this more recent variation on the employee-death theme. Different times, same old problem:
AUSTRALIA WORKPLACE AGREEMENTS CONSULTANTS IN EMPLOYEE RELATIONS MANAGEMENT
Sick Days
We will no longer accept a doctor’s statement as proof of sickness. If you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.
Personal Days
Each employee will receive 104 personal days a year. They are called Saturday and Sunday.
Bereavement Leave
This is no excuse for missing work. There is nothing you can do for dead friends, relatives or co-workers. Every effort should be made to have non-employees attend to the arrangements. In rare cases where employee involvement is necessary, the funeral should be scheduled in the late afternoon. We will be glad to allow you to work through your lunch hour and subsequently leave one hour early.
Toilet Use
Entirely too much time is being spent in the toilet. There is now a strict three-minute time limit in the stalls. At the end of the three minutes, an alarm will sound, the toilet paper will retract, the stall door will open, and a picture will be taken. After your second offence, your picture will be posted on the company bulletin board under the ‘Chronic Offenders category’. Anyone caught smiling in the picture will be sanctioned under the company’s mental health policy.
Lunch Break
Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch, as they need to eat more, so that they can look healthy. Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a balanced meal to maintain their average figure. Chubby people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that’s all the time needed to drink a Slim-Fast.
Death Clause
Any worker found dead at their desk will be promptly fired. All deaths will need to be applied for in advance and will only be approved if you can show your death will not affect productivity.
Thank you for your loyalty to our company. We are here to provide a positive employment experience. Therefore, all questions, comments, concerns, complaints, frustrations, irritations, aggravations, insinuations, allegations, accusations, consternation and input should be directed elsewhere.
Sometimes, it feels like this, even though the population has doubled since this spoof report was circulated:
Of the many figures that have been recently released from Canberra, the following may be of interest. These, incidentally, were not released by the Commonwealth Statistician.
| Population of Australia | 12,000,000 |
| People of 65 and over | 2,000,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 10,000,000 |
People of 18 and less |
5,000,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 5,000,000 |
People working for the Government, State and Council Offices |
2,200,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 2,800,000 |
People in the Armed Forces |
950,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 1,850,000 |
People in Banks, Insurance etc. |
1,100,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 750,000 |
People in asylums, hospitals and Engaged in Trotting & Greyhound racing |
600,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 150,000 |
University students & others who won’t work |
125,000 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 25,000 |
People in prison |
24,998 |
| BALANCE LEFT TO DO THE TOIL | 2 (you and me—and you’d better pull your socks up, because I’m sick of running this country on my own) |