Santa’s back after Christmas & Coronavirus last week. Thankfully, he remains in a super cheerful mood and is here to wax lyrical with much cheerful aplomb.
Health, Safety, and Impertinence
We need to hire a health and safety specialist. This is a government order following on from the death by crushing incident last week.
My statue of Satan fell over, knocked into my bedroom wall, and that triggered off an unfortunate series of events.
Basically, it resulted in the roof of factory 1 collapsing, with the rubble slamming onto 132 hapless elves slaving away below.
The floor then collapsed under the unexpected weight. This resulted in the mass of debris and elf corpses dropping down onto the concrete foundations, which then also collapsed. All told, there was one survivor.
In tribute to his miraculous escape, I ordered I’m a Survivor by Destiny’s Child be blasted at maximum volume round the factory.
That brought a tear to my eye, so I got a bit drunk and put out the job spec for our health and safety manager. This read as follows:
"STOP Wanted at Santa's Factory STOP New employee for health & safety management STOP Must be able to unclog toilets filled with fetid Santa stools STOP Personality disorders welcome STOP No drinking on the job STOP Unless you do the job better when partially drunk STOP No dames STOP Because women belong in the kitchen STOP"
We were overwhelmed with responses! So many gushing morons gushing away over how “amazing” I am and how I’m making so many stupid little children happy. These job candidates make me sick! But we had to hire one of them.
There was one who was sort of okay. A binman with no experience in health and safety management. He turned up for the job interview smelling of faecal matter and a hangover, so I decided to offer him the job immediately.
Markus, my head elf, was not best pleased. The petulant little git is full of impertinence these days! A heated debated did follow.
“Sir, I must protest! This gentleman isn’t at all qualified!”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘isn’t qualified’ nonsense!?”
“Sir, he isn’t! He’s only ever worked as a binman!”
“What’s all this goddamn hoo-ha about a binman?!”
“Sir, we need him to perform qualified and detailed health and safety checks, not…”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘qualified and detailed safety checks’ crap?!”
“Sir, on this occasion, please, I beseech you to…”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘beseech’ nonsense!?”
“Sir, he must ensure the safety of the entire workforce!”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘ensure the safety’ bull!?”
“Sir, please! We’ve already lost 135 employees this week, that’s a record even for your standards!”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘my standards’, boy?! Are you getting impertinent with me again!?”
“No, sir, but if we lose more staff then we drop behind production, you know this!”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘you know this’ crap!?”
“Sir, if we must hire him, please…”
“What’s all this goddamn ‘must hire him’?! I make the decisions around here, boy!”
So I did make the decision. And I hired the bin man. I did come to regret this decision. Because he’s not a particularly competent health and safety officer.
In fact, he’s rubbish at almost all of his duties. But he’s really effective at taking the bins out, though, so I feel justified in hiring the man.
The Binman Health and Safety Inspector
Par for the course (whatever that means, I just want to look smart), Fred the binman’s first duty was to undertake a health and safety risk assessment of the workplace.
He didn’t know how to do that, so I told him to go and walk around the factory and see if there were health and safety hazards.
Fred returned three hours later suffering from frostbite and hypothermia. He was in a state of paradoxical undressing due to the latter. He stood in my office (yes, I have an office now) in his underpants shivering and talking gibberish.
Apparently he got lost and wandered off into the bleak wilderness of the North Pole.
Thankfully, Markus (my head elf) was shadowing him and dragged his frozen body back to the factory. He thawed it out in front of the nuclear waste still contaminating part of the site.
The next day, I ordered Fred to undertake the health and safety risk assessment again. However, he again got lost! And this time he ended up getting savaged by a polar bear.
Fred is now in the factory medical ward, where the nurse/chef Doreen injected him with morphine and amputated his right leg.
Markus pointed out his legs were uninjured. I realised Doreen had made a terrible error, so I ordered her to sew the leg back one.
This she duly did, although Fred was awake by then. And she was out of morphine supplies. As she stitched the leg back his screams of agony were most annoying! I told him to, “Shut up, you snowflake!” But he kept on screaming.
Eventually he passed out due to the pain, so that solved that problem.
But then his leg got an infection and he now has gangrene. He’s pretty delirious at the moment and has turned very pale. Stupid prick.
I’ve terminated his contract at any rate, someone that useless isn’t welcome in my workforce!