A middle-aged worker at a local company, who has suffered at the hands of his intimidating, brutal, and bullying employers for so long, has now had just about as much as he can possibly stand from them, and is close to telling them to go fuck themselves.
Myke Woodson, who somehow managed to get a job as a data input clerk when he was so obviously unsuitable for the post, has been warned time-and-again about his lack of speed when entering the data on his computer.
Whereas the other members of the 30-strong team are nimble-fingered females, and bleached-blond reject-hairdressers in their early twenties, with names like Siobahn, Tammy, 'Fliss', Tara, and Lara, Woodson is a perfect example of a 'plodder', a person who types with his index fingers, and who should not be allowed near a computer, other than 'in his own time'.
Warnings, both verbal and written, have been issued, and words have 'been had', but Woodson's speed has remained stable. Filthy looks have been directed at the plodding clerk by both management and staff, and this has had only the negative effect of making him take longer, and more frequent toilet- and tea breaks.
Woodson told me earlier:
"They can take this job and stick it where the sun don't shine, for all I care!"
