Turns out the union was right. We had all assumed that Sam worked for us, but in fact for the last 17 years we have been paying £500 a day for him to Temps-R-Us. Their account has been going direct to Creditors every month and they have dutifully paid it.
Sam was philosophical when I called him in to say goodbye. After all, he has his cottage in Cornwall, flat in Venice, apartments in Corfu, row of houses in Tunbridge Wells and 30% of a holiday village in the Maldives to look after.
The Unibum representative came to protest about the retention of contract staff while permies are being made redundant.
I was quizzical: "We don't have any contractors, do we?"
"Yes you do - Sam Pickering."
"Sam's been here longer than I have. You must have it wrong."
Most of those who have had their 90 day notices have decided not to bother coming in again and are absent - presumed job hunting.
This means that my "service realignment" programme has had to be brought forward. I cancelled most of the projects and restricted the service desk to two hours each morning.
Mavis is not happy. I refused to sign her stationery requisition this morning. Well, I think, in these straightened times, we can do without five bottles of nail varnish and three eyeliners.
"I see you managed to save your own skin" said John from the County when he called to see how things were.
"Close run thing," I admitted.
"You didn't fancy taking the early retrirement option then?"
"Are you kidding! Have you checked the state of your pension fund, lately?"
Having nominated 18 employees - not including myself, naturally - for compulsory redundancy, I find myself less popular than usual.
The death threats and the Photoshop representation of me swinging from a noose that has replaced the picturesque riverside scene that normally adorns our home page - these I can shurg off. Even the extensive damage to the Jag, which I so unwisely left in the car park after the notices went out on Friday, I can come to terms with.
But the suggestion that I am trying to save my job at the expense of others, well that hurts. Of course I would like to put myself forward and be there, as it were, leading the charge.
Sadly, however, the responsibilities of duty weigh heavily on my shoulders. I must remain to ensure that the essential governance of the service continues. I feel their pain, but must stand aloof. Such is my terrible responsibility of command.
We need 20 redundancies and there are just two volunteers. I think we ought to do this scientifically.
"Mavis - bring me a blindfold and a pin, would you?"
Although the FD managed to lose £20m, of the council's reserves by depositing them in an Icelandic bank secured only by two boxes of herring and West Ham United's second reserve goalkeeper, it is not his fault. No, the government is to blame, because it failed to tell him what a reckless idiot he was in time.
Anyway, it seems we need to retain all the finance staff we have to deal with the budget crisis. Similarly HR cannot be touched as they are needed to draft the redundancy notices. Facilities are outsourced, the lawyers are inviolate as they sue anyone who comes near them and central procurement has set itself a contract with the council that has another 10 years to run and no early termination clause. So, once again IT has to shoulder all the central service cuts.
Charlie reports that our latest vacancy posting for analysts has had a much bigger response than usual. None of the applicants will actually admit to being unemployed, a status I believe they associate with the lower classes, but it is noticeable that they could all start straight away. Many of them appear to have a lot of experience in financial processing systems, particularly things like trading and mortgages.
Typically, they live in the leafy suburbs around London or one of the major financial centres in the provinces, and claim to have incomes around £70k. And yet they seem very eager to work for less than half this amount and, presumably, commute the couple of hundred miles to Bogcaster. Must be something in the wind. Perhaps I ought to start reading the newspapers again.
Another e-mail survey on green IT arrives this morning from some on-the-make consultancy claiming to be independent. Anyway, I filled it in. Well, they give you 200 air miles and the chance to win a five-litre 4x4.
The first question was, "Are you engaged with the green IT agenda?" suggesting that my interlocutor was not only independent but also pretentious. My answer was, "Only while the pubs are shut."
Second day of the annual Asslic Conference - probably the only event in the world that starts on a Sunday and ends on Tuesday. I am not sure whether they do this to maximise the inconvenience or so they can get a cheap rate on the hotel. This year it is at the Coptic Manure hotel, which is in a strange and unfriendly place called Wales.
The keynote speaker this morning was, wait for it... the deputy minister for digital inclusion. There's a famous person for you, boyo. I could not help wondering who the actual minister for digital inclusion was and why we need multiple layer hierarchies of these creatures. Personally, I think it is time they got their finger out. On the other hand, if they are saving villages from dams that would otherwise burst, well then perhaps the public expesne is justified.
It is definitely the season of mellow fruitfulness. We now have no fewer than 10 women who have sprogged in the past few weeks and are away on maternity leave.
Something must be done to tackle this annual baby bulge. Perhaps we could stagger the Christmas party over a three-month period.
Getting geared up for the Asslic annual conference. Once again I have to buy a new black tie for the dinner. What is it about those things? I get through at least two a year. I mean, where am I losing them, for goodness sake?
So the dilemma here is proper or pre-tied. There is a bit of an Asslic tradition of lounging about in the bar after the formal dinner, with black tie untied and draped around the collar.
This, I suppose, is a subliminal sexual signal. The wearer is simultaneously advertising his superior elegance, willingness to disrobe and skill in digital manipulation.
Alternatively, he can be seen as a daft pillock, of course. Pre-tied I think.
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