The automated interview beta test of Select, our new e-recruitment system, has not been an unqualified success. With hindsight, we should have allowed more time. The team has been working long into to night to get the beta release out within the deadline. It could also be the pressure that is behind the gratuitous abuse included in the SMS messages sent to candidates.
Under questioning, the analyst responsible claimed he had sat in on interviews and that calling those who failed to get the job "pathetic loser" was pretty standard. He also produced notes to show that "You got it, you lucky bastard - now kiss my ass" was an actual verbatim live example.
As I explained to him, however, it is all down to media applicability. Text is admissible in a tribunal, while verbal comments are just hearsay.
Mavis keeps hinting that it is time I took something called a holiday. Thus far I have managed to stall her by pointing out that holidays are generally regarded as a phenomenon of something called the summer.
Bogcaster is currently under three feet of river water and it has not stopped raining since Easter. So when the summer actually arrives I will consider the possibility of taking a holiday.
For once, the sun is shining this morning. When I got into the office, however, a nasty shock awaited me. My desk was covered several inches deep in holiday brochures.
"No pressure," said Mavis. "Only I still have that clone of your credit card, and if you have not decided by lunchtime, I shall be booking the most expensive two weeks for two I can find."
Suspecting that this might mean an escorted tour of the Antarctic, I decided it was necessary to at least put down a few parameters.
Mavis is still trying to find a package that meets my requirements. Can't think what her problem is. She always says she likes a challenge.
I would have thought it would be easy enough to find an opera and golf combination based in an all-Linux-kitted five star hotel for less than £1,000.
Came in this morning to an office atmosphere made disconcerting by a positively smirking Mavis.
It seems that one of Dave's old Trotskyist dissident pals in Bulgaria is now, in these post-history times, running a state-of-the-art hotel and leisure centre complex on the outskirts of Sofia. There is a Bulgarian State opera programme on my desk.