Notwithstanding the din of “My Boy TM ” quietly (!) going to work at 5.30am this morning, in a novel break with tradition, I stayed in my pit until gone 7am.
There was an interesting article on the radio on the way to work – there’s a craze sweeping America whereby (for no adequately explained reason) you have to throw away most of your possessions – you can only keep one hundred. I wonder how the ladies of the household would respond to that one, bearing in mind we don’t so much live in a house as in an obstacle course.
Meanwhile, worn out from being quiet, “My Boy TM ” had come home from work and was having a kip in the garden. Some of us come home and have a kip. Others come home, do the washing up and get the laundry in. Who’s the daft one?
A phone call – some twonk from GMC finance. Apparently I asked them to phone me because I liked what I’d read about their company. One lives and learns.
They felt they wanted to share their get rich quick scheme with me. It would be very lucrative for me to invest in companies that provide temporary agency staff to work in hospitals. Apparently the NHS is dumb, and is willing to pay far over the odds for agency staff, which means a nice return on their shares. They claimed that a share worth 80p last year was now worth over two quid.
They seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the NHS agency gravy train has long since come off the rails, and seemed to take offence when I intimated they were talking rubbish. I’m the one who up until last Friday had been sacking these temps. What do I know…..
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