Well well, so the Agency’s sickness rates have risen alarmingly. I bet management (the previous incarnation) thought that when they invited me to retire on ill-health grounds that the average sickness rates would plummet, since they made it quite clear that my forced absences were a blot on the sickness rate landscape. They were obviously wrong. Staff members have clearly seen the light. I’ve never perceived myself as a trend-setter, but I’m flattered to accept the role.Speaking of management, the photomontage of the current management team in the last @SPVA I received contained more forced grins than the inmates of the dock at Nuremburg. Not that I’m suggesting that the management team are guilty of any crimes against humanity, it’s just the look. I was recently part of a group photograph of Accrington magistrates, and that’s even worse – and the comparison, I can assure you, is even more appropriate, as the pond life of Accrington will aver.
In fact, since I retired, I tell anyone who will listen that I haven’t felt this good in years. So management were right – work was making me worse. I should sue. Mind you, I only look this good with make-up and Botox. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy working; I just enjoy not working better. (I would enjoy not working more if I didn’t have to pay accommodation fees for sprog at University, but that’s my fault.) I’ve now got a season ticket at Old Trafford (cricket, not the overpaid prima donnas down the road) so I just amble round to the station, get off the train at Manchester Victoria, get the tram to Old Trafford, grab a pint of Lancaster Bomber and sit and watch a riveting day’s play, thinking all the while of the poor sods working away at Norcross. As if. It’s impossible to miss the stop for Old Trafford – apart from the Tram telling you the stop, as the stop approaches dozens of men with panama hats and bags containing flasks and butty boxes get up and shuffle to the doors. Yes, me as well. You have to conform in the member’s enclosure. (That’s an area of seating in font of the pavilion, not an article of clothing.)
.Anyway, back to sickness rates. It must be blatantly obvious to management that some people prefer to get better at home rather than get better at work and quite right too. The current epidemic of Norovirus, or Winter Vomiting Disease, has been caused by people not realising the infectivity period. Yes, the symptoms only last a couple of days – and what a couple of days – but you are still infectious for two days after. If you go back to work as soon as you feel normal, you spread the illness to all your mates, who will not be eternally grateful. It’s a classic case of presenteeism causing more illness. Mind you, as a quick route to weight loss, I can’t recommend the bug more highly, though I’m told amoebic dysentery does a more thorough job. And it keeps you off work longer.
The reason for the rise in sickness rates is obvious – an unhappy workforce. It strikes me that one of the causes of any unhappiness is fear. The staff magazine, @SPVA, looks more like a notice board for site closures than anything else. Who’s next? The other thing about the magazine is that it is terminally dull, totally humourless, and more boring than basketball, and that is going some. So how do you cheer up the good folk of Norcross? For a start, managers can stop banging on about sickness rates – that only makes things worse (speaking from experience). Second thing; get someone with a sense of humour to brighten up the staff magazine. Third thing, put wads of finest Moroccan kif into the filters of all the water machines. It won’t improve sickness rates any, but at least nobody will give a toss.
And the smiles on the faces of the managers will be genuine.
Mike Bolton
