Dear HR,

Last week I was required to travel to TechReCorp’s head office, or ‘The Mothership’ as it is jocularly referred to by some of my colleagues. It’s a trip I make semi-frequently, as my extensive knowledge, skills and experience are often called upon by the most senior of executives of our company.

Knowing its proximity to the founding church of the Southern Baptist group Faith Under Christian Kindness, I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised to find one of Pastor Al V. von Koerber’s revival ceremonies on television in the hotel. Pastor Al is a man who has famously been ‘reborn once, twice saved’ according to his biography. His ‘Praise Trinity – The Holy Threeway’ channel proved to be both enlightening and educational, and offered numerous ‘limited time offers’ to further study their particular theology. Intrigued as you might imagine, I took the opportunity to have them ship me some of their merchandise.

Whilst the Bible, signed personally by Pastor Al, was a heavily adapted version of my own catholic bible it proved not to be the greatest source of controversy for the week.

I also ordered a vial of ‘The Tears of the Redeemer^®‘. Using a patented and secret process that they describe as a ‘godly version of the unholy homeopathy’, the Faith Under Christian Kindness group have been able to harvest sub-atomic molecules of the actual tears shed by Jesus Christ on the cross. As with other homeopathic remedies the tears are not detectable in the liquid suspension in which they are delivered, but Pastor Al has certified each one as pure and true. The vial comes with a handy ring on the lid so that you can attach it to your keyring and always have it close on hand.

This particular visit took a substantial turn for the worse as I entered the office on Monday morning. To my horror, my own travels coincided with a trip by Mrs. Ophelia Gibson-Dicks. My consternation was deepened when I discovered that she was in fact to be seated in the same area to which I was assigned. I could only hope that either she or I would be too busy for our paths to cross.

On Tuesday, my package from the Faith Under Christian Kindness group arrived beautifully wrapped with their trademark ‘Three Crosses’ logo proudly emblazoned on the postage label. I opened it and, fearing the undoubted ridicule that would ensue should it be discovered, quickly put the bible in my laptop bag, the vial on my keyring and the packaging in the recycling bin. If Jesus was alive today, I feel he would be ‘green’ so recycling seemed like the ‘holy’ thing to do.

That day, as is normal, I was wearing my standard beige chino trousers and white shirt. These particular trousers have quite deep pockets, so whilst I took some comfort from knowing the ‘Tears of the Redeemer’ were on my person, the vial gave my keys a rather awkward dimension particularly as they were now resting not so much on my hip but further down my leg. I was forced to readjust the position of the keys with a high degree of frequency, which was not unnoticed by Mrs. Gibson-Dicks.

“Why do you keep scratching your crotch” she asked, loud enough for many of the people in the open plan office to notice.

I tried to explain that in fact it was my keys that were the problem, but sensing that she had an opportunity to embarrass me further she persisted in her attack.

“Do you have crabs?” she asked.

Now I have no idea what crabs have to do with anything, one minute she’s claiming that I’m scratching myself and the next she’s talking about seafood. Regardless, I decided that taking the higher ground was the only approach, I quickly shoved my hand deep into my pocket fully intending to produce the ‘Tears of the Redeemer’ and silence this benighted harpy for the remainder of my trip.

Sadly, in what I can only assume to be a manufacturing flaw, as I drew out my keys they separated the cap from the vial causing the ‘Tears of the Redeemer’ to explode over my upper thigh and general groin area – to the right if that’s important.

This offered more ammunition to Mrs. Gibson-Dicks, who roared for all to hear – ‘Good lord have you soiled yourself, or perhaps you became over excited? What has come over you?’

‘The Tears of the Redeemer have come over me that’s what’ I retorted as I stormed away.

This really forms the basis of my complaint. I think in a mature and supposedly diverse organisation we should recognise that diversity also extends to the more ‘mature’ members of staff. Whilst I’m clearly still in the fullness of my health and vitality, I do recognise that I am now an older gentleman and therefore perhaps more susceptible to the whims of nature. What if it wasn’t the ‘Tears’ on my groin? Well? What if in fact I had an issue with incontinence for example?

This is just another example of bullying and ageism which must be subject to sanction. I hope you will take this letter as the basis for an investigation into these horrid, demeaning and shockingly lurid statements by Mrs. Gibson-Dicks. Should you require further evidence, I also took some photographs of the affected area which I will gladly submit for your review.

I did approach a number of staff who were in the vicinity to assist in taking the photographs before the ‘Tears of the Redeemer’ evaporated, but was rebuffed on every occasion. Whilst I’m not making a formal complaint at this point, I do think some sensitivity training may also be in order.

Thank you for your kind attention.

Alexander

Dear HR,

I don’t want to get a reputation for only contacting you when there’s something to complain about, heaven forbid that I should become the  ‘Moaning Milly’ of the office.

I wanted to compliment you and the business for the finely organised ‘Mental Health Week’. I’ve always said that there’s a few people in the office here that we should be taking a closer look at through a more ‘normal’ lens. I understand that our DEI group are required to profess inclusion and diversity, but we also must adhere  to our safety at work policy by properly looking at some of the less than normal people in the workplace.

I was particularly enthusiastic to see that the speaker on Tuesday as he was using material provided by the Southern Baptist group: Faith Under Christian Kindness for his discussion on stress and work life balance. I’ve observed their good work over the years, particularly in their outreach programmes. Irish people will of course be most familiar with their work with reformed prostitutes ‘Hymens for Hosanna’, or their Northern Irish affiliate ‘Past Prossies for Proddies’. I have been confused by the ‘Plugged Analysts for Anglicans’ in the UK though; I wouldn’t have thought Business Analysts needed an outreach programme. Meeting the presenter allowed me to make a connection to the group which I will certainly be following up in the near future.

As I said, the speaker was excellent, presenting challenging material on work life balance, and encouraging everyone to find their own stress outlet including meditation, exercise and of course spirituality. I was particularly pleased that he didn’t advocate any particular form of Christianity; Southern Baptists can get a little carried away with all of that Born Again puritanism. I would assume that he recognised the generally catholic nature of the room, although I suspect there may have been a few unadvertised Church of Ireland adherents there too, but we’re nothing if not tolerant in the Dublin office.

Of particular interest was his encouragement to be thankful for just about everything. Many of us have of come across Southern Baptists over the years and often recognise them for this very particular trait. I’ve heard more than one unkind word in relation to this ‘over thankfulness’ that they are so often accused of. Condescending, trite, insincere and hypocritical are some of the less generous terms I’ve witnessed but I’m sure you’ve seen and heard far worse than I. After attending this presentation though, I was made keenly aware of the number of times I found myself not just thankful but actually giving thanks, and more often than not to God! I was a little surprised, if not shocked, by this Damascene revelation particularly as the first example that sprang to mind was just this Monday.

On Saturday our local supermarket was offering samples of their direct supplied Crème de Menthe which had Delilah circle the aisles until the management finally caught her and had her ejected. By the time I arrived to take her home, she had a green hue closer to Elphaba’s from the musical Wicked than her normal vaguely yellow jaundiced colour. Bundling her and the shopping into the car as she shouted obscenities that would make a sailor blush was bad enough, but in a fit of pique she ripped the labels of all of the bottles of mouthwash and threw them out the window as a form of protest. That might have been fine if she hadn’t also ripped the labels off of the Imodium. To cut a long story short, on Sunday and Monday that wasn’t mouthwash that I was using. By Monday lunchtime my regular ‘cycle’ had not been fulfilled for over 48 hours without putting too fine a point on it. By about four in the afternoon, the effects had worn off which in turn caused some fairly dramatic consequences so to speak. Having rushed to an available toilet cubicle that which followed bordered on biblical, or perhaps apocalyptic. You’ll never guess what I said in that moment – that’s right ‘Oh dear sweet Jesus, thank God’. And you know what? I was thankful – praise be!

There was one point that I would like you to make as feedback though. During the presentation one of the stressors that the speaker identified was terrorism. Accompanying this particular slide was a picture of a gentleman with a beard who had a distinctly tanned and Islamic look to him. Now I don’t want to dwell on the inherent prejudice that was being shown here, but I would have thought in this day and age as we discuss equality and equity so often that at the very least there should also have been a picture of a woman in a hajib, niqab or burka. Honestly, how much longer must we have to tolerate this inequity and lack of respect for women?

That said, I think the entire subject was handled tactfully and gracefully, and look forward to further material over the coming weeks and months.

Regards,

Alexander

Dear HR,

I suppose it was to be anticipated, expected even, that the festering petri dish that is the Dublin office would eventually spawn off a mutation of the ‘Goodman Virus’. Really it was only a matter of time given the debauchery that was witnessed at the previously reported ‘Summer Coven Meeting’ also known as the Summer Barbecue. Someone was bound to be infected, and now here we are.

I am of course speaking of the ‘Great Dublin Bike Ride’ a 60k or 100k ‘cycle’ that took place last weekend.

You may be wondering at the connection, well here it is:

Ms. Omisha Khan having seen the behaviour of her tyrannical leader at the summer party no doubt concluded she was the heir apparent to the throne but with her own particular sadistic twist. She casually recruited a number of the more unsuspecting members of the Dublin staff for participation in the above mentioned event. I was quickly ensnared with the promise of some friendly ‘team spirited’ activities but which were in fact a Machiavellian trap designed towards pain and torture for her own nefarious pleasure. Oh it was all so good natured and charming; how we joked and laughed as humorous cycling jerseys were bought in anticipation of a refreshing early autumn jaunt through North County Dublin. All part of her set up no doubt to destroy whatever vestiges of joy might have remained in the Dublin office.

My suspicions should of course have been raised when just a week before the event Ms. Khan started complaining of a damaged foot. She insisted she’d still make the cycle, but played martyr to the injury. Then the weather took a turn for the worse; rain and wind quickly shrouding Dublin in a dark and foreboding autumnal veil. Now I’m not saying that the ‘Daughters of Hecate’ can actually control the weather, but the coincidence was striking – I definitely suspect Ms. Goodman’s hand in this somewhere.

Then of course, just a few short hours before the start, Ms. Khan cried off the event, claiming her foot too swollen to remove a cycling shoe. I didn’t think you could get cycling shoes that fitted cloven hoofs but we live and learn.

Undeterred, and to be honest somewhat naively, I headed to the event on the appointed Sunday morning. How can I describe the panorama into which I was thrown? Dante’s inferno would have been less horrifying. Seven thousand people gathered in a Diversity, Equity and Inclusion nightmare. Everyone was outfitted in exactly the same manner. You might be thinking this to be a positive step towards gender equality, but sadly not so. Picture if you will what the intersection of Star Wars helmets, Ronald McDonald clown jackets and a hybrid of Lululemon Yoga Pants and Always sanitary pads  would look like – and not the ones you see advertised on TV – I’m talking about the ones that you see in the geriatric wards of lunatic asylums that are large enough to absorb a small swimming pool and generally hang around the saggy skinned thighs and knees of patients dragging down already soiled cotton underwear.

It was too much, I had to make a break for it. Unfortunately in doing so I caused widespread confusion leading to more riders commencing their cycle. I was just trying to get away, but now I was being chased down by these devilish hellions. Don’t be tempted to romanticise how this looked; this wasn’t the start of the Tour De France with lithe young riders elegantly accelerating their streamlined bicycles in a well-coordinated manner into a fresh French summer’s morning. No this was like a herd of elephants astride spiky rails, wearing luminescent outfits barrelling headlong on the wet streets of Dublin.

I was terrified!

That terror pushed me to complete the circuit where at the end, as I shakily dismounted, a message from the demonic Khan arrived declaring that she was coming to meet us. As with most torturers, it real payoff is in seeing the broken remains of the victims rather than the actual process of torturing and she was no different. Having endured the suffering of having a saddle slowly attempt to slice me in two through metronomic grinding in areas where no metronome should be, I had lost all feeling from my chest down and was now trapped.

I can only imagine how she would have been, all chirpy and covering herself in the mantle of a caring, considerate, friendly HR person. But now we know! She has revealed her true self! Madness overtook me and I careered for the road home before she had time to arrive and gloat at her victory.

As we head into mental health week, I fear further ‘team participation’ events. She has carefully crafted her disguise of competence and credibility, you might even go so far as to say she is ‘liked’. But having completed the trial of her influence over a small number of people, I can only imagine her, now emboldened, having free rein to execute on whatever new amusements the dark recesses of her black heart can conjure.

Please send help soon.

Alexander

Hello again HR,

I’m sure you were concerned about my lack of contact, but as. Mentioned last week I was travelling to Poland.

Returning late last night, I was inundated with voice mail messages from Jeremy – some quite incoherent. I can appreciate him working out of hours, but I suspect on more than one occasion he was calling from that party he mentioned. Out of courtesy I called him back.

I was happy to inform him that the last couple of days were incident free and that may have been helped by my travel arrangements. He was quick to mention how many of his friends seemed to be spending time with people from Poland, which was an interesting coincidence. I’m sure when his references to his love of Poles actually meant all eastern Europeans and not specifically people from Poland.

True to form he jumped back into his recruitment patter. Again, surprisingly quiet in his delivery, which made much of the role difficult to hear, but I did catch some reference to golf balls and hose pipes. I told him straight out that this sounded more like a role for a Louisiana Prison Guard, and that really that type of job didn’t appeal to me in the slightest.

Quick as you like he jumped to an alternative role, which if I’m being honest confused me even more as it sounded like a gardening role. I took the role to be in the maintenance department – perhaps in Stephen’s Green here in Dublin. With this kind of weather, you can imagine that this would be appealing to some people, but I highlighted a couple of things. Most importantly my knowledge of Angle Grinders or any other type of Grinder was extremely limited, and similarly for Leaf Blowers. I’m really more of an office worker I told him.

Well, I don’t need to tell you how people get when they’re in full recruitment mode – honestly they just won’t give up.

He jumped straight to some sort of role that involved stationery, the volume was certainly an issue at this stage, but he seemed to be offering a role that related to paper in some way. I happily informed him that we were progressing to an almost entirely digital platform here and the ‘Reaming’ that I think he was referring to would no longer be necessary. I think he was a little taken aback by my detailed knowledge of the vernacular around paper quantities. Besides, I told him, I’m a bit of a closet environmentalist looking to eliminate all waste from the environment. The real problem I told him was not paper, which was readily recyclable, but plastic and other materials such as that found in erasers. ‘Rubbers are a problem?’ he asked. Of course it is, but really the problem was the amount of rubber used in engineering – current precision engineering technology allows for the elimination of rubber from all sorts of areas, with the same effect being achieved with the strategic application of sufficient lubricant instead.

Well, how was I to know he was so passionate about precision engineering? He seemed quite keen to discuss this further. Did I mention that I think he’s an asthmatic? During our conversation he seemed to have some form of attack, his breathing becoming more laboured and I believe he was repeatedly hitting his chest to free up his breathing.

Unfortunately at the same time Delilah had got into my son Adam’s stash of tins of Old Peculiar just as she started to watch ‘The Only Way is Essex’. This is always a recipe for disaster as she takes on the many affectations of the people on the show. Her grammar goes completely to hell – I had to point out to her that really ‘May Not or Will Not’ are much more likely phrases rather than ‘Can’t’.

‘I don’t think she’s a ‘will not’ covers it she said’ – I was going to pick her up on this sentence structure, but Jeremy had returned to some form of normality.

Jeremy, having recovered, started to explore what sounded like an opportunity with some form of car sales outfit. Really we weren’t aligned on this, particularly since the areas he was discussing seemed to be more in the vintage car area – Ford stopped producing that model in 1997. That stumped him I have to say, so I pressed him further – ‘indeed’ I said ‘it was considered underpowered – people wanted more torque, more power, more oomph’ – he sounded genuinely interested. ‘So nobody wanted the Probe in the end’ I said.

Jeremy seemed to be starting into another attack, and besides Delilah was about to start into Eastenders, which never ends well for anybody so I was forced to hang up.

I really have to figure out a way to get him to stop offering me jobs though – TechReCorp is all the job I need.

Regards,

Alexander