Today is payday. Normally, this would be a cause for great celebration and much worshipping of the craven idols on Oxford Street. But no. The agents of Satan who between them manage the payroll and HR departments at my new place of employ have conspired to misplace my P45, which I handed in over a month ago – a fact I just relayed down the phone to a ‘payroll officer/minion of the dark one’ without quite managing to keep the shrill edge out of my voice. So now I have received the dreaded ‘BR’ tax code, so my net pay is not quite what I thought it would be. This is made that bit more frustrating because I haven’t been paid since I left my old job about 2 months ago.
The people in payroll passed me on to the people in HR. The people in HR have said they will ‘look into this’ and ‘call me back’. They do like to have their little jokes. Do they not understand the urgency of the situation? I have things I need to buy – quite apart from food and rent, there are more important things, like I need to get my hair done – this is quite a desperate situation now - it really needed doing last month, and I made myself wait, spending what little money I had on fripperies such as travel cards and the like. Sheesh. I also need to buy a new CD player, my old one having completely given up the ghost over a MONTH ago.
Hmph. We are not amused. That is all.
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