I was in that... place again, with these... people. It was not a pretty sight. The whole thing reached fever pitch when we were swamped with orders, short on staff, and the younger thug-manager does not handle stress well. Everyone is ordered to rigidly stand at their post, so if they ever need to do anything, they cannot, and they cannot ask anyone else to do it, because they're all too busy. At one point, he got really on my case (when I was only doing my job, and to the best of my ability). I lashed out, not in English, of course, but in French, and told him, "Shut your mouth." (Many Hungarians learn French at school - so he may have understood, perhaps, but I doubt it - the man is not educated). I wanted to say futue te ipsum, but thought that might be a little too strong.
Two degrees, ample talent, and what does Britain do with me? Oh, they offered me a 'good job' alright, just like they said they would, a job that's so good, they didn't even have to pay me for doing it! It's that good. Tight arses. No backbone and no bottom.
At least, as I expressed to one of my colleagues this evening, should I become an attorney at law (and bearing in mind everything else I have set out to achieve, I have achieved, whether it is mastering Latin, the piano or the guitar) I will most certainly offer my services to another, more appreciative country than this one (that is, unless they actually put their money where their mouth is, and make good on their offer, like in the deal). I should imagine that France would be a better place to live, near my daughter. I speak the language. I know I can make good money there: three degrees or no three degrees. After all, if this country won't make use of my talents, there are plenty of countries that will...
Max.
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