Friday, 22 January 2010

The Last Induction

Despite a hacking cough brought on from currently residing in a cesspit where my cohabitants think it’s ok to keep fifteen mice as pets and leave upwards of six bin bags in a corridor, I dutifully plodded along to my NHS induction today. It struck me as strange to have an induction when I’m already two months into a job but I guess they do it that way so you have a chance to get settled in to a normal work routine first, before bombarding you with jargon. Although as I only work three days a week, I don’t think I’m ever going to get ‘settled in’. Just as I get in the swing of things the time for my four day weekend (pity me) rolls around and I immediately forget all my passwords and extension numbers.

The chaperone for our little group was a lanky chap who looked a bit like a greasy, elongated Harry Potter whose wizardry strengths lie in handing out evaluation sheets and getting overhead projectors to work. When a guy who looked like Jack Bauer stuck his head cautiously round the door and asked whether he’d come to the right place my pre-caffeinated mind drifted to all sorts of half-baked blockbuster ideas, picturing Bauer casting spells to ensure captured terrorists cannot lie. Harry Potter & The Plot to Blow Up Washington.

Celluloid dreams aside, I found Part One of my two day induction course informative, if a little pointless. The unit in which I work has just been bought out by a privately owned company so its employees are uncertain of their futures to put it politely. I, however, was certain of mine as my contract only lasts for another couple of months, which is why I’m entertaining naughty skiving ideas regarding another training course I’m booked on approximately one month before I’m scheduled to leave. Presciently entitled ‘Resolving Conflict in the Workplace’.

A memorable highlight of the day was the section on fraud, which has supplied me with plentiful lucrative ideas for creating ghost employees (it doesn’t even have to involve murder) and overclaiming on my mileage. This part was delivered by two former coppers, one who would be played by Robbie Coltrane who did the scaremongering and another, Ray Winstone, whose massive sausage fingers lobbed cheap plastic ‘Report NHS Fraud’ biros at us.

The energetic Health and Safety man doubtlessly would have been portrayed by Jim Carey. In one cringe-inducing instance he quizzed my neighbour on her role within the NHS. Upon discovering she was a cleaner he cheerfully declared, with brows raised and eyes on stalks, “Right! Nothing wrong with that!” stressing the Right!ness by jabbing his finger at her. Of course if he actually believed this to be true he would have had no cause to say that. He redeemed himself by introducing me to a delightful new phrase, “this’ll make your bum tight!”. Cor. I was tempted to tighten my ears to prevent that dubious morphing of my rectum occurring. This was followed by an Equality and Diversity talk, the presenter of which’s gender is uncertain in my mind. When he/she/it began talking of recent NHS efforts to incorporate more rights for transsexuals as wells as gays and lesbians within its literature, I wondered how much of a hand (or whatever is the most appropriate limb) she’d had in that particular agenda item.

My head is now brimming with acronyms and legislation most of which is irrelevant outside the NHS, which I am soon to be cast out of. But as always I’m grateful for the experience if only so I know what not to bother going to in future, and for the chance to see Daniel Radcliffe & Kiefer Sutherland on the same stage. I also discovered I cannot concentrate on a slideshow presentation if it contains spelling errors, Unnecessarily Capitalised Words, or

uneven spacing.

Which is why I could not possibly divulge any more content about my day.

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