…going in to work for a shift on one of the hottest days of the year.
The government’s answer to everything is to legislate, so how come there aren’t any really useful laws, ones that prevent you from toiling while everyone else is out there sunning themselves & sipping ice cool drinks whilst dressed in shorts & skimpy tops? (Don’t have a mental picture of me in a skimpy top, by the way, lest I end up being sued for your resultant illness).
The control room is like working in some underground nuclear bunker. Once you’re in there with your head down & your microphone switched on a glacier of monumental propertions could wend it’s way past the control room windows being chased by the fires of hell & you’d be none the wiser. The only clue you have to what the weather is doing outside might be whatever you can see on CCTV, if it happens to be live on one of the screens.
When I returned to work they all asked me if I was going to do reduced hours. I decided against it on the grounds of wanting to get a good burst of bank balance injections.
On days like we’re having at the moment, I’m seriously beginning to doubt my judgement.