Sofa so good

Moomin Papa stares at me with wild eyes during his appraisal. He obviously does not like me and everything, to his very marrow, exudes his dislike of Team Managers and everything they stand for … which isn’t very much.

Everyone says he’s a Morman, but the subject of religion never comes up in his pay appraisals, as I try and keep it to wrap-time, orders per hour and fiddle with the competency wheel for a bit.

He used to be a bank manager who was made redundant. He is now working for ‘pin money’ and to see his four daughters through college: “I want to keep them in beer and tampax for the next five years.”

Silence. I didn’t know what to say.

“In life, you realise that you amount to nothing.” He said. “You might be some big shot manager at the moment but you’re expendable. If you had your hand in a bucket of water and took it away, there would be no difference …”

“That’s interesting. Can we keep it to the subject in hand … your call to order ratio.”

He ducked it again with some comment about him being a ‘chair leg’ propping up the wannabes.

“John, you’re not a chair.” I paused. “You’re more of a stool.”