Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Dear Sarah, Forget about a Christmas card this year. Yours, Victor.

It's been a whole heap o'trouble since the new people took over Ashurst. Space issues, wage issues, jobs being delayed, and Sarah (the woman who apparently is in charge) spending most of her time in Yorkshire or some such place.
Maybe if she and Lincoln (or as the production manager once put it, the fat cunt) were down here more often - like every day - they might get some idea. Especially with the courtyard; rubbish piling up because they're too cheap to get it collected weekly, cardboard taking up more space under the new recycling system than under the old (no more throwing it into a huge container that takes ages to fill up and is easy to negotiate around; no, they would much rather have them go into smaller containers that fill up quicker and mean they have to go into yorks, which take up even more space).
And where's this PC I've been promised for months, eh? We'd better get one hell of a bonus, that's all I'm saying.

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