Friday 25 October 2013

More than my job is worth.
FRENZY a Daniel Jones story by Mark King

Every now and then we meet people who just get up your nose. The type of people who are no-bodies, but because they have a job title they think they might be somebody, although they can't make a choice in life without hiding behind somebody else, or some made up rule.

The type of people who seem to have no other purpose in life other than to just live, and can't or won't do something because it's more than their job is worth to do it. The type of people who are generally called in the U.K; the job's worth.

Now for my other English speaking viewers around the world I presume that where ever you live be it America to Australia then the term, a job's worth means the same as it does in the U.K. For my Chinese, Russian, German, French viewers, and all the other countries where people read my blog I can only presume again you will have the similar name in your mother tongue for somebody who is similar.

Why I'm bringing this subject up is because last week I had the misfortune of bumping into two of these people.

The first was on Tuesday. I had been contacted by the journalist Kathryn Bradley from the Lowestoft Journal who wanted to interview me about my book Frenzy a Daniel Jones story. I was born and bred in Lowestoft and started my working life on the towns fish market when I left school. I completed my apprenticeship as an auctioneer and had a wonderful time selling the daily fish catches from the fishing fleet in the mornings. It was cold work in a noisy and smelly environment with plenty of rough character's, but in the end it all came crashing down when Margaret Thatcher gave away the industry. She signed the EEC common agriculture and fisheries policy. Tens of thousands of people relied on this industry, now there are just a hundred or so.

I was the third generation to have a connection to the market with my Grandfather working as a fisherman on the last steam drifter from the port. Because of this the editor wanted the photographer to take some pictures with me, and my book, on the market and so we arranged to meet there. The only problem was that when we got on site a security guard wouldn't allow the pictures to be taken because as he said, 'it's more than my job is worth.' So we got on the phone to his boss who again passed us on to someone else, who again passed us on. After half an hour and five different people we gave up, and went to Nest Point the most easterly place in Great Britain, then took the pictures there. It only took five minutes and the job was done.

The second occasion was last Thursday at Norwich Cathedral. I volunteer for a few hours every week as a greeter in the hostery at the Cathedral I like to get out and meet other people and I greet the visitors at the entrance, point them in the right direction, answer any questions as best I can, and give relevant information. Well on this day a man turned up on a mobility scooter for a tour of the cathedral, but wanted to walk on the tour so leaving his scooter behind. He asked if there was somewhere he could store it and I said, 'yes, under the stair-well.' It's out the way and no problem to anyone.

But, and as I say there is always a but, standing next to me was a minor lay-official from the cathedral who snapped at me, 'no he can't.' This official has his nose stuck so far up his own back-side he loves the smell of his own shit.

'Why I asked? It's not a problems!'

'It's the rules' he snapped again at me.

I said jokingly that rules are made to be broken and he snapped back at me again. If he was around when Jesus Christ was alive healing the crippled, and the lame, he would have snapped at him too for helping the poor, the sick, and the defenceless.

Now I'm quite a forgiving person but some people just get up your nose, and at that point I just wanted to punch his one. I've never heard such clap-trap before because people are always leaving things safely secured under the stairs, but this petty job's worth decided differently. So I just shrugged my shoulders moved away and got on with my life.

Never mind because as an author you need to take features from people you meet in day to day life for both good, and bad characters, and this is what you need to do if you come across such petty job's worth. As I'm now writing the manuscript to Doom A Daniel Jones story if I need a couple of arseholes to use in it I know just the two people to base them on.

Mark King

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