Needling Chieftains of Mulching Whirligig,
This week has been full of extra-curricular chaos. I’ve enjoyed composing the report that I owe the world this week; maybe it’s because I’ve had a two week break and I’ve re-approached my work but I’m really enjoying the science. My first paper is due to be published very soon, I’m nonplussed at this, the writing, editing and peer review process left me disillusioned. I don’t believe I can face reading the paper of which I am the lead author again. My ideas and beliefs had be chopped, reformed and watered d
own like a packet of wafer thin ham on sale in a supermarket. Everyone has their own agenda and I am simply at the mercy of others.
On field, a dispute with my football team manager which was created when I questioned why he did not lambaste his poker buddy at the heart of the defence at all after a catalogue of blunders yet I was berated endlessly for just one. This settled itself down, or so I thought, it turned out that he had let it settle because I was needed in quantity, if not quality (to field a team, he required 11 friends). When I was deemed excess again, we seemed to be on speaking terms. I did not mind being an unused sub on a sunny day. An unprovoked snide remark about my skills at a training session brought about a typically arrogant retort from me. I, therefore, did not expect to even be named as a substitute for the next match, on Thursday, but surprisingly, I was. I remained unused and a 9-3 defeat ensued. My brother raged. The manager’s poker buddy was involved in at least 7 of the 9 goals conceded, these included a foul in the penalty area and scoring an own goal.
My brother is, or was, our best player. He has high standards; his old football manager was our father. We have an inherent sense of fairness and hard work ethic. My father could never be seen to favour his son, he appointed an assistant manager who would always make the decision on whether my brother would play. If my brother was selected to play, he had to perform or he’d be substituted hastily or else the management team would bare the wrath of other parents’ accusations of preferential treatment. He’s been booted from the team for criticising the toleration of the poor performances of the manager’s buddies or as the official statement goes, ‘undermining the management’. He’ll benefit from this, he’ll find a team who are run properly, and perform at a better level. I expect to be booted on Tuesday, after which I’ll be probably retire for a while. I tolerated the malpractice in our team because I had no other choice, I wasn’t always the victim (this may suggest I have no backbone but no one really has a voice), and the team are local. Travelling further a field to train and play may be too much for me.
Illness is rare for me, however, Friday brought about horrible symptoms but I went to work, I hoped that I’d soon recover and I’d be fine to go to dinner that evening. I knew by 10am that I’d be better back in bed. I stared at my screen and no words were typed, I hung on and on before pronouncing myself too ill to exist outside a duvet. It was the farewell dinner of a colleague that evening. I did not want to let him down; he had been good to me at various stages in my time there. Often I grew annoyed with some of his bungles but in truth, he’s the only one who came close to understanding my sense of humour and giving our environment a sense of Scottishness. I don’t often attend nights out, but I had made an effort for this one, I ironed a shirt and trousers. I packed my running shoes and swimming trunks – something to do immediately after work, in the time before dinner. I hope I did not cause offence. I’ve been on the wrong end of farewell dinner disappointment.
own like a packet of wafer thin ham on sale in a supermarket. Everyone has their own agenda and I am simply at the mercy of others.On field, a dispute with my football team manager which was created when I questioned why he did not lambaste his poker buddy at the heart of the defence at all after a catalogue of blunders yet I was berated endlessly for just one. This settled itself down, or so I thought, it turned out that he had let it settle because I was needed in quantity, if not quality (to field a team, he required 11 friends). When I was deemed excess again, we seemed to be on speaking terms. I did not mind being an unused sub on a sunny day. An unprovoked snide remark about my skills at a training session brought about a typically arrogant retort from me. I, therefore, did not expect to even be named as a substitute for the next match, on Thursday, but surprisingly, I was. I remained unused and a 9-3 defeat ensued. My brother raged. The manager’s poker buddy was involved in at least 7 of the 9 goals conceded, these included a foul in the penalty area and scoring an own goal.
My brother is, or was, our best player. He has high standards; his old football manager was our father. We have an inherent sense of fairness and hard work ethic. My father could never be seen to favour his son, he appointed an assistant manager who would always make the decision on whether my brother would play. If my brother was selected to play, he had to perform or he’d be substituted hastily or else the management team would bare the wrath of other parents’ accusations of preferential treatment. He’s been booted from the team for criticising the toleration of the poor performances of the manager’s buddies or as the official statement goes, ‘undermining the management’. He’ll benefit from this, he’ll find a team who are run properly, and perform at a better level. I expect to be booted on Tuesday, after which I’ll be probably retire for a while. I tolerated the malpractice in our team because I had no other choice, I wasn’t always the victim (this may suggest I have no backbone but no one really has a voice), and the team are local. Travelling further a field to train and play may be too much for me.
Illness is rare for me, however, Friday brought about horrible symptoms but I went to work, I hoped that I’d soon recover and I’d be fine to go to dinner that evening. I knew by 10am that I’d be better back in bed. I stared at my screen and no words were typed, I hung on and on before pronouncing myself too ill to exist outside a duvet. It was the farewell dinner of a colleague that evening. I did not want to let him down; he had been good to me at various stages in my time there. Often I grew annoyed with some of his bungles but in truth, he’s the only one who came close to understanding my sense of humour and giving our environment a sense of Scottishness. I don’t often attend nights out, but I had made an effort for this one, I ironed a shirt and trousers. I packed my running shoes and swimming trunks – something to do immediately after work, in the time before dinner. I hope I did not cause offence. I’ve been on the wrong end of farewell dinner disappointment.
posted by Leif at 10:31 PM
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