Stuart
After finishing university, I didn't receive the 2:1 I'd hoped for, and the idea of having to explain why I got a 2:2 to employers conjured up an image in my mind of perpetual bounding from interview to interview, never taken seriously as the interviewer cuts his own ears off with a blunt spork the moment I answer his question "You've not mentioned what you got for your degree...?". After spending months pretending to do a dissertation, and memorising rather than learning for exams whilst getting incredibly adept at GTA and plumping up like a goose for Christmas, my world view had internalised to a claustrophobic level where I tended towards a state of depression. University, my degree, they were everything, yet I'd get myself into such a state just thinking about it, whenever I'd actually try, I'd just become overwhelmed with the fear of how little I actually knew.

Following university I moved back home to South Wales in order to save some money whilst looking for work. I had no idea what I wanted to do, just that I had a degree in Computer Science and to date had thought of the life as a programmer to be the only possible career path that could come from this. I spent some time applying to generic IT graduate schemes naively poisoning my applications with the sort of non-committal crap that I now realise would ring major alarm bells in anyone who chose to read it. That's the ones I was allowed to apply to, anyway. The number of times these graduate forms started off with precursor pages like "Before we begin, could you answer the following questions: 1) Are you eligible to work in the UK? 2) Can you tie your own shoelaces? 3) What classification did you get in your degree?". I lacked the self confidence to even answer question two with any certainty.

It was during this time that I realised I wasn't getting anywhere in a hurry, and seeing that I was turning into a complete slob, my parents encouraged me to try and find a job locally to bring some money in and give me some much needed inspiration. At the time this seemed like the worst possible thing I could do. It was admitting defeat. In my mind, the idea of working in the home town I swore to leave at the first opportunity would be a black mark on my CV that I'd never be able to shake off. After another couple of months of rejection after rejection, even claiming dole money as things got tight, I dejectedly surrendered to the idea. I applied to anything vaguely IT related, and after a couple of failed interviews, finally got a positive response and landed a role as an IT support assistant for the local council. The role involved travelling around schools in the borough sorting any problems they had without actually spending any money as most of the schools were so strapped for cash.

I awaited my first day with an apprehension that I've not felt before or since for a job. I was totally wet behind the ears, unprepared for the full-time working world and living with a morbid fear that I'd reached the point of my life where I had to find a 'career' and free choice was a thing of the past. I was shown around the office where my bosses were based and was introduced to the three who'd I'd be reporting to. One, whose name I forget, was one of the friendliest people I've met. Like a jovial uncle who just wanted everyone to be happy, he would go out of his way to be courteous to everyone he met with an unmistakable genuine sincerity. The second, most senior boss was a guy called Pete. He was a big guy with a big voice. Not a man of many words, but those he spoke were loud and direct. I realised early on, that if I stayed out of his way then he'd stay out of mine. I respected this arrangement and so did he.

Then there was Stuart. A man aged roughly 50 years old with small hollow eyes, a slicked back head of silver hair, "strong Christian values" that he felt obliged to work into a conversation no matter how tenuous. Looking back now, I wish I could say that I'd reached a more mature plateau where I look back at him with a level of sympathy or at least understand why he was who he was and why he chose to act the way he did. My first introduction to Stuart was a lengthy speech from him about how he didn't have a degree, thought they were a waste of time and in his experience those with degrees tended to be lazier, softer and less intelligent than those who'd had to learn in the working world from day one. In my fragile, depressed, pansy boy state, these words were devastating. This speech would prove to be indicative of Stuart's attitude towards me from day one.

The majority of the job was easy going and although boring, the staff at the schools were quite pleasant and friendly. Teacher's tended to be incredibly appreciative for any help you could give at all, particularly in schools with tighter purse strings where they hadn't planned to replace that dot matrix until 2012. Couldn't we just take the ribbon out and tap it onto paper with pins? The feedback I was getting from them was good and I was slowly developing a rapport that saw me begin to lighten up a little.

Unfortunately though, despite seeing him so relatively rarely, Stuart still seemed to take a sick satisfaction in making me his nemesis. When he found out that I only had access to a car on certain days (the application form said "Do you have access to a car?", I said "Yes"), he threw a tantrum and motioned to get me fired on the spot. Discussing this with friendly manager in front of me, much to friendly manager's embarrassment. Eventually, after friendly manager managed to calm him down, and I had a chance to plead that I'd walk or take buses between boroughs to get to the schools doing the commute in my lunch hour, he reluctantly complied.

To show his true discontent at the arrangement, he made no concessions to the locations of the schools I was working in, some up to 7 miles from each other with me relying on an infrequent bus service which I had to pay for. Despite this, it was still money and the amount of walking I was having to do helped me lose some weight.

The next few months saw him take any opportunity to publicly berate me in front of other workmates, or make sarcastic remarks that harked back to school days though from someone who's supposedly your superior, not your peer. He'd visit the schools I was working in unannounced, introducing himself to the heads whilst buttering them up as much as he could whilst subtly denouncing me to them in an apologetic way for them having to put up with being assigned a runt like me. Any time I'd turn up to a meeting late, sure enough he'd below at me for holding things up a few minutes despite the fact that I'd been across town an hour ago just trying to fix a problem for a hysterical teacher before hotfooting it back to the office. My depressed state didn't allow me the strength to challenge his jibes and his consistency left me believing the words he said, convinced I was doing an awful job and that I was nothing but a burden on the department.

Eventually something inside me snapped. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't do this any more and despite still having no luck in finding work in London decided that I'd rather sleep on my brothers floor and work in a Cafe Nero than spend another minute surviving my existence in this entirely self-destructive lifestyle. The liberating day I handed in my notice, I kept it as understated as possible, choosing to deal with the friendly manager, but my newly awakened mind bubbled with ideas for revenge against Stuart that my sadistic side savoured for my last day.

My family, noticing the change in me and knowing of the 'creative' ways I'd left jobs in the past (see: www.b3ta.com/questions/sacked/post49349/ or www.b3ta.com/questions/sacked/post49365/) implored me not to let him win by slighting my reputation with a revenge action that would see me no benefit other than a few moments of satisfaction whilst he would get the last laugh with me not being able to reference a job I'd had for 9 months.

As my final day approached, my mind was torn. I was desperately trying to think of ways I could hurt this person anonymously, just something to redress the way he'd made me feel about myself. Eventually, I managed to restrain myself to just changing my laptop's homepage to his wife's website (thank you Google) knowing he was taking my laptop from me when I left. On the scale of things, it was merely ambiguously creepy rather than a directly detrimental revenge. I appreciate that's a pretty crappy ending considering this question of the week is supposed to be about hilarious anecdotes, and the length of this entry but I remain proud that I didn't channel my self-loathing against this convenient hate figure, and walked away.

Venting your pent up anger or sense of injustice when leaving a job does nothing. Those who I've seen explode when finally handing their notice in, or those who see the exit interview as an excuse to rant for a few hours miss the point that you're leaving and all this. Why let the bastards win?

My next job was fantastic, as was the one that followed it. I found a job I enjoyed, worked with people I got on with, lost the weight and started to enjoy life in London. My mental attitude became more positive and that positivity was reflected in the people I met.

I know my story's a pretty small scale tragedy compared to what so many others have to deal with, but in my internalised world, I'd lost all sense of priority, and the change was liberating. All that crap that university days are supposed to be the happiest of your life? Bollocks. Uni was a blast, sure, but with not enough to do and too much time to do it in, all that leaves is my mind over thinking, and creative ways to cope with boredom (mostly involving alcohol). Give me a stimulating job to get on with in the daytime and I get a true appreciation of the spare time I do have on evenings, weekends and holidays any day. A younger me would never have thought that I'd ever say those words, but thankfully I'm not the same person I was back then.
( ma0sm, Thu 22 May 2008, 15:41, 2 replies)

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Well-written and inspiring. And kudos for not simply making up a more sensationalist ending (as I suspect some people may have done in your place) - it would have spoiled the story. Stuart sounded like someone with a massive inferiority complex - I doubt anything you could have done would be worse than the fact he has to live with himself, day in, day out.
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Thu 22 May 2008, 16:09, closed)

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Theres a lot of me and my first emplyoer after graduation in this. I've kind of come to the conclusion that happyness takes higher precedence over money.

Why do some people/employers/colleagues take it upon themselves to make your life hell? I can't imagine me or anyone I know purposefully doing that to someone - who are these people and why havent they yet been murdered?
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Thu 22 May 2008, 16:28, closed)