Cripes.
After 2 hours in his company, I realise that I much prefer him when he is adopting his Mr Grumpy persona and not interacting with me at all.
I am sitting in his office, along with Line Manager, a personable young chap from Procurement, and a fairly senior female officer from another department whom I much admire for her professionalism, fairmindedness, and her effortless "make-up free" glamour.
We are deciding which 6 companies to invite to tender for a Council contract. I have used my spare capacity over the past week assessing 25 Pre-Qualification Questionnaires against a range of pre-determined criteria - a task in which Line Manager and Fairminded Colleague have been simultaneously engaged.
New Boss is in one of his bored and restless moods, fiddling irritably with his Blackberry and urging us to be "ruthless".
I remind him that we only have clear and unambiguous agreement upon 2 companies, which means that we need to carefully discuss all the other close contenders. New Boss grimaces.
"Look Katharine, we all know how this operates. We pick the people we want to work with, and then fiddle with the scores to make them fit".
There is a silence. No-one says anything. I wait to see if anyone laughs, but no-one does.
"But that's not how we do this," I say clearly. "We need to follow the correct processes".
New Boss rolls his eyes at my astonishing naivete.
"We just make the scores fit," he repeats.
"If we are going to do that, then why are we all sitting here?" I ask.
It is clearly regarded as a hypothetical enquiry as no-one responds.
"Why," I repeat tenaciously, "why have I, and Line Manager and Fairminded Colleague spent hours and hours assessing these submissions if we aren't going to observe the due processes?"
New Boss looks at me very carefully, realises I am serious, and throws his Blackberry down on the table.
"Right then," he says. "Get on with it".
Some time later, I mention the name of one of the sub-contractors cited in a particular submission. New Boss reacts as if he has stepped in something unmentionable.
"Oh God, not *******" he says (citing the MD of said company). "I don't like him".
"Have you actually worked with him?" I ask.
New Boss looks frustrated.
"No, I haven't worked with him, but I heard about him when I worked in (at this point, he inserts name of a certain city up North)
"So you have no reason to believe" I say patiently, "that he is someone with whom we would be unable to develop a productive working relationship?"
It is evident from New Boss's expression that he is deeply regretting having agreed that I should be the volunteer to assist with this exercise.
"No," he says deliberately. "No, I have no reason to believe that".
The company concerned has achieved one of the highest average scores and rightfully makes the shortlist despite their apparently reckless choice of sub-contractor and New Boss's efforts to consign their PQQ to the bin.
It's been an exhausting two hours, and for some minutes we all chat aimlessly about other things to give our heads a break. The certain city up North, mentioned earlier in dispatches, comes up again in conversation.
In a sudden spurt of apparent good humour, New Boss says animatedly "oh, I know a good joke about women from that city! But I can't tell it to you because Katharine would disapprove...."
He darts me a look of ill-concealed hostility, and then says (which strangely enough, I would have bet hard cash upon) "...but I'm going to tell it anyway".
Here is New Boss's joke:
*** WARNING - THOSE OF A DELICATE DISPOSITION, PLEASE STOP READING NOW ***
"How can you tell if a woman from Certain Northern city has a touch of class? Well, when she's drunk and she squats in the street to relieve herself, she at least has the decency to wipe herself with a McDonald's wrapper".
Now, please put to one side the question of whether or not this joke is amusing in any way, and look instead at the question of its appropriateness. Is it an appropriate joke for the most senior person present - currently paid approx £90k per annum from the public purse - to make in front of a gathering of more junior colleagues which includes 2 women and officers from another department..?
I'm not entirely sure that it is.
He tells the joke directly to me, and I look back at him.
Line Manager sniggers, but it is a perceptibly nervous snigger.
Young Procurement Officer looks embarrassed.
Fairminded Colleague looks slightly bewildered.
I smile, because it's obviously the last thing he expects me to do.
(Those who feel I should Take Some Action - sorry, but I've been there, done that, worn the T shirt, and had the consequent nervous breakdown.....)
Shortly afterwards, we agree to have a quick coffee break.
While the others are making drinks, I sit back down next to New Boss.
"My husband sends me lots of jokes by text," I say. "Would you like to hear one of them?"
New Boss can hardly say no.
I take my phone out of my bag.
"Here's a good one," I say. "I'll read it out to you:
SHAG! It's a funny word, isn't it? To a carpet maker, it's a long pile rug. To a smoker, it's a type of tobacco. To an American, it's a dance. To an ornithologist, it's a bird. But to you, my friend? To you, it's just a remote possibility."
This time, it is my turn to look New Boss directly in the eye. He is about my age, balding and his shirt is stretched tightly across his tum. He is absolutely nothing like Viggo Mortensen (ah! be still, my beating heart.....)
I do not mention to him that I omitted one word from the joke I was reading out.
"Ugly".
The actual joke sent to me by my husband reads "to you, my ugly friend....".
I know. I'm just a sensitive kind of gal.
Shortly afterwards, we agree to have a quick coffee break.
While the others are making drinks, I sit back down next to New Boss.
"My husband sends me lots of jokes by text," I say. "Would you like to hear one of them?"
New Boss can hardly say no.
I take my phone out of my bag.
"Here's a good one," I say. "I'll read it out to you:
SHAG! It's a funny word, isn't it? To a carpet maker, it's a long pile rug. To a smoker, it's a type of tobacco. To an American, it's a dance. To an ornithologist, it's a bird. But to you, my friend? To you, it's just a remote possibility."
This time, it is my turn to look New Boss directly in the eye. He is about my age, balding and his shirt is stretched tightly across his tum. He is absolutely nothing like Viggo Mortensen (ah! be still, my beating heart.....)
I do not mention to him that I omitted one word from the joke I was reading out.
"Ugly".
The actual joke sent to me by my husband reads "to you, my ugly friend....".
I know. I'm just a sensitive kind of gal.
New Boss forces a laugh.
"Good one," he says.
"I'm so glad you like it!" I trill.
The others rejoin us. I am eating a packet of Snack-a-jacks and New Boss's eye falls on them with a jaundiced stare.
"You won't get fat eating those," he says.
"I don't want to get fat," I say politely.
"You want to eat some chips," he says.
Then as he turns away to put milk in the coffee Line Manager has brought him, an afterthought occurs to him.
"And lard," he says loudly. "You want to eat chips and lard".
I do not feel it necessary to reply.
I am not entirely sure how this match would have scored if due processes had been followed. In my fantasy, when the final whistle blew New Boss would have just achieved a spectacular own goal resulting in his team's instant relegation.
However, I suspect the reality is probably closer to a dismal 1:1.
"Good one," he says.
"I'm so glad you like it!" I trill.
The others rejoin us. I am eating a packet of Snack-a-jacks and New Boss's eye falls on them with a jaundiced stare.
"You won't get fat eating those," he says.
"I don't want to get fat," I say politely.
"You want to eat some chips," he says.
Then as he turns away to put milk in the coffee Line Manager has brought him, an afterthought occurs to him.
"And lard," he says loudly. "You want to eat chips and lard".
I do not feel it necessary to reply.
I am not entirely sure how this match would have scored if due processes had been followed. In my fantasy, when the final whistle blew New Boss would have just achieved a spectacular own goal resulting in his team's instant relegation.
However, I suspect the reality is probably closer to a dismal 1:1.
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