So I start a new job on Monday. I'm going over to Charter housing. They provide the maintenance for the social housing stock of Banbury homes and the like. So pretty much I'll be fixing broken toilets in council houses. Great, eh?

I've been doing this kind of thing for a while now. It's not been too bad up til now, however the company I was working for lost the contract and got gobbled up by Charter. Hence, I have no choice in whether or not I want to work for them. Either I take them up or I'm out of a job. Trouble is, I'm rubbish. I'm a charlatan, a cowboy, a bodger.  I'd much rather be tucked up in bed at half 2 of an afternoon. And that's where I'd be the majority of the time.

You see, I'm a signed up member of the great British workmans union. We do as little as possible. And hey, if it's public money that's paying the bills, we'll do even less.

A typical day would start with the picking up of half a dozen or so jobs from the depot. This was always the hardest bit as you had to at least show willing before the management. I'd normally stagger in still half drunk from the night before; trying to mask the stench of booze on my breath by eating pickled onion Monster Munch at 6am each morning. I don't know if this did the trick, but the issue of my drink problem was never raised. After I'd picked up my schedule for the day, I'd head off to one of the local building suppliers, in the Banbury area, to pick up what I needed for the day. This always involved consuming at least half a dozen coffees from the free drinks machine and a general sobering up session for an hour, sometimes longer if a trip to the burger van was needed to soak up the excess booze. After finally getting my act together around half 10, I'd see how much I could defraud the company of by booking various expensive tools and materials to my job ticket through the purchase order scheme that  is used by the public sector maintenance teams. After this it'd be off to blind the tenants with science, or even not bothering turning up at all. I'd lie through my teeth, saying that I needed to order various parts or materials, anything to get out of doing the job. I knew that this way the job would be returned to the housing association and it'd be rebooked for 6-7 weeks down the line and, more than likely, to a different operative. Then I'd knock off and go home.


From what I've managed to find out about Charter; they seem to frown on this type of behaviour. They like things done properly, and within budget, by competent employees. Well, they're in for a bloody shock.