When the bullied became the bully?

Late last year I started a new job. It wasn't a job I really wanted but I had been made redundant and I didn't have any other options. In order that you can understand this blog post I should explain my job. I am a surveyor employed by a building contractor. As a surveyor it is my responsibility to influence, and report upon, the financial performance of the various construction projects under my control.

When I started with this new employer I was asked to oversee three partially completed new build housing schemes. It soon became clear to me that the previous surveyor had been "fudging" the figures such that the projects appeared to be successful when in fact they were far from it.

In the first month I knocked back the profit forecast on the schemes from showing a profit of £300,000.00 to a loss of £400,000.00. The following month, after further investigations, I reduced the forecast a further £500,000.00. In any other company that I had worked for this turnaround would have seriously affected the ability of the company to remain trading.

My boss, understandably, didn't take this news very well. However, rather then discuss the situation with me he attempted to bully me into falsifying the figures. He suggested that I was a, "lazy surveyor" that accepted the losses too easily. In 22 years of employment my commitment had never been questioned and it hurt me deeply, but I stood my ground. He then suggested that I was a weak surveyor that had been institutionalised by working for only a handful of companies. He went further and told me that he was disappointed that he had ever employed me. This rocked my confidence to the very core. I started to question my own abilities. I started to wonder if he was right. For the 22 years of my working life I always knew that I had one constant - I was good at my job. During the worst moments of my divorce I threw myself into my work and the results were clear to see. Now the very foundations of my confidence were being fractured. It is an occupational hazard of mine that you have to give bad news but I learnt at an early stage that you get all the bad news out in one go. Here I wasn't allowed to - and that undermined my position. The stress made me question everything - I even took comments from my oldest friend personally (and we'd been taking the mickey out of each other since we were 4 years old!). In the end I did what he asked and reported figures that I knew were unachievable. I knew that it was only a matter of time before the lies would be exposed. I hated going to work and when I returned home I was so stressed that I would moan to anyone that would listen (inevitably this would be my ex-girlfriend). I have no doubt that this situation was the pre-cursor to the separation from her.

I knew I needed to get out of this company and so I sent my CV to a number of agencies. The following day I was called into the Managing Director's office who asked me why I was looking for another job (I have no idea how he found out). I told him the truth. My ex and I had just split and I was in no mood to take any prisoners - I gave it to him straight. He stood there and listened and then asked me what I would do differently if I had my bosses job. I told him. He then asked me if I wanted my bosses job on a temporary basis whilst they sourced a permanent replacement. I said yes.

And so I was now the boss. I held the cards and I could be the bully. But I didn't. Instead my old boss and I are now friends.

Please....

....the next time I say I am over the thing that has been bringing me down tell me not to look at the blog of my ex girlfriend!

I don't know why I even went there. I haven't for such a long time and then I did. I now feel sick, and wobbly and awful again.

Please, please, tell me never to do that again.

I love you!

Yes you....




and you....



and even you (a little bit)....

Yes, it is true that these past two months have been difficult for me. I've apologised for the things I've never done, felt guilty for reacting to the words of others (both people I know and those I don't), made my dentist cry (a long story), and been generally low but, on Tuesday, something changed inside of me. I'm not sure exactly what but something very real changed.

Because of that I'm back. I think....

Time travel and realisations!

I realise that I said on Thursday that I was taking a break from this blog for a while (and that I meant a few weeks/months/years/forever) but time is relative - right? And whilst to you Thursday was only 2 days ago, to me, as someone who mastered the art of time travel on Friday, it is a really, really long time ago!!

Whilst you have been sat at work wishing for the weekend I've been flashing backwards in time.

I stopped firstly in 1066 to warn King Harold not to look upwards when the Normans invaded. He didn't listen! Also, did you realise that he was King Harold II? No? Me neither!

I then stopped off to see my old mate Willy Shakespeare (his friends can call him Willy!). You know that sonnet in Romeo & Juliet, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." I planted the seed for that one in old Willy's head!

I then moved onto 1649 to see a demonstration on how to treat the Royal Family with the proper respect and dignity that they deserve. You've just got to love that Oliver Cromwell and his New Model Army!

Whilst doing all this space continuum travel type thing - I've also had some realisations as well.

Edited

You've got to make it happen!

I've said before that I bounce and, whilst my current low may have taken me longer to get over then normal, I have had a return to positivity. In fact I am feeling better then I have for a long time.

However, with this return to positivity I have lost the desire to blog. I am, therefore, going to take a break, stop writing about my life and start living it!

I will probably return sometime but for now the desire has gone.

I have made some great friends here and I wish you all well.

If anyone would like to keep in touch with me during this transisitional period please feel free to contact me via email spencerpark73@gmail.com.

In the words of Oasis:

You could wait for a lifetime
To spend your days in the sunshine
You might as well do the white line
Cos when it comes on top

You gotta make it happen
You gotta make it happen
You gotta make it happen
You gotta make it happen

The circles of my life!

When I was 27 I had a mini mid life crisis at the prospect of turning 30. It didn't last very long but, whilst it did, there was a lot of panic about how little I had achieved in my life. When I left school I had decided that I wanted to be a Surveyor, don't ask me why, and I had achieved that goal but it wasn't the panacea that I had hoped for. In actual fact when I finished my training, and reached the end of the metaphorical rainbow, I didn't like what I found. Surveying, to my mind, is a pretty crappy profession. It is commercially centred such that my primary objective is to make rich people, even richer. I wanted more from my life. I wanted to help people. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to leave a lasting impression.

At that time I started to write my first novel (I never finished it). The novel reflected the life that I would have liked to have lived. It centred on an indie band and the relationship between its members as they attempted, unsuccessfully, to reach the big time. It was, probably, pretty crap.

It was also at this stage that my ex-wife and I would split for the first time. We had been together for just over 8 years and had started to drift. We had started to live separate lives. I would go out with my friends and she would go out with hers. I knew that something was wrong and tried to do something about it. I asked if she could come home early one night so we could spend sometime together. She agreed and I spent ages getting the house ready and setting the scene. I even made an attempt at cooking! She never came home that night. The following morning I asked her to leave.

She did leave and shortly afterwards she moved to San Francisco to work at the University of California. Before she left we had started to talk again and had even resumed sleeping together. When she moved to the States I was a little gutted that she had gone. I had lost my best friend and, even though, I suspected we weren't right together, I missed her. Three months later I flew out to San Francisco to spend Christmas with her and, after spending 3 weeks together, she asked if she could come home.

I didn't really know what to say. I wanted to say no, but I couldn't so I said yes. Shortly afterwards my ex would fall pregnant, we would get married and have two wonderful children.

Unfortunately, the marriage wouldn't last and we would divorce seven (and a half) years later. By that time I was 37 and had started to write a children's book (I will let you decide if I'd starting having a further mid-life crisis). This book I did finish and, actually, received some positive feedback (and not just from friends and family) but, have never had the courage to seek its publication.

Maybe, I will!

It's inconsequential!

I've realised lately that I should never, ever, allow myself to get stressed by insignificant matters. I now know that when I do get stressed it not only affects me but also, and, perhaps, more importantly, those around me. That isn't fair on either them or me.

In particular I have been finding work a stressful experience of late. As a surveyor I am responsible for the financial management of a number of construction projects. In the good old days, before the recession set in, this wasn't a bad job. At that time the vast majority of the projects I worked on were a financial success. Unfortunately, since the recession hit, the construction industry has been badly affected and the, vast majority of, projects I am working on are far from a financial success. Whilst this isn't, necessarily, due to failings on my part it is always left for me to tell the bad news to the company directors - which is a stressful experience.

However, I have now realised that these matters are inconsequential. What is important is what is happening in my life outside of work. Lesson learnt!

Violence - what is it good for?

This post has been a few weeks in the coming (I said as much here) but has been hastened by the death of Osama Bin Laden.

When I was much younger my friends and I used to drink in The Three Tuns Public House in the centre of Coventry. It wasn't exactly our first choice of pub but it was the only one that would serve us (we were only 16 at the time). On one particular Friday evening my friends and I were stood chatting when a fight broke out. I had no idea what caused the fight, nor did the majority of the other people in the pub, but it soon became clear that one of the participants was a better fighter then the other. He was pummelling the other chap and, to my amazement, the majority of the pub were cheering as each blow landed. I couldn't stand to watch as this poor bloke took a beating and left the pub feeling queasy.

Three years later my friend and I went, to the cinema, to watch Reservoir Dogs. In case you haven't seen the film there is a scene in which the the ear of a police officer is cut off. At this point in the film a huge cheer went up from the watching audience. Whilst I understood the significance of the scene I could not understand how people could cheer such an act. Even worse, in my mind at least, the cheer was followed by laughter as the offender proceeded to talk into the detached ear lobe. I turned to my friend who, I was amazed to see, was also laughing. I had to leave the cinema and was physically sick in the toilets. To this day I still cannot listen to Stuck in the Middle with You without feeling an element of repulsion.

Later the same year I spent an evening with friends at our preferred nightclub of choice (The Pink Parrot - another classy joint!!). I am glad to say that my friends and I had a good night. However, the following morning my mother woke me up in a panic asking me, "What happened?" When I explained nothing, she asked me where all the blood had come from on my shirt. I had no idea. Later that day, however, I would read in the local newspaper that there had been a fight in the nightclub and one of the participants had bitten the other's nose off. I had to throw that shirt away!

Now, I know that this doesn't have anything to do with Osama Bin Laden, or even the death penalty of which I spoke in the previous post, but it did leave me thinking who wins when an argument is decided by violence? Who has the valid argument? The person with the bigger fists? I don't know - what do you think?.

The Gift of Dyslexia

Being the parent of a child diagnosed dyslexic is difficult. Watching my daughter go from loving school to barely tolerating it was upsetting. In many ways it became even more difficult when my son started to take an interest in reading. Watching as he took to reading effortlessly, like a duck to water, whilst my daughter was flailing about kicking her arms and legs as hard as she could in an attempt to keep her head above the water was hard.

However, if I am being positive, I could easily transpose that equation such that my daughter is in the driving seat. I could give an example of how my daughter has taken to drawing with a natural ability that her brother, and I, can only dream of. Or, how my daughters' attendance at dance and drama classes (Razzamatazz) have helped to develop her natural rhythm such that she can now move with the grace of a swan.

In summary my children just learn differently, just as they play differently and have different eating habits. But, having said that, there is no doubt that it is easier for my son to integrate into the normal way of learning and that is, the sole reason, why it is so hard to watch my daughter struggle with dyslexia. It is hard watching your child struggle in a system that is not designed to help them flourish.

So, what have my ex-wife and I been doing to help my daughter?

Since my last post, when my daughter was merely being labelled by her school as slow, we have had formal confirmation that my daughter is dyslexic. An independent Psychologist, employed by Dyslexia Action, undertook the tests and concluded that my daughter was "not a slow learner. Her verbal abilities place her higher than 66% of her age peers and suggest sound academic potential." Despite the fact I knew that, it was a relief, to see the confirmation in writing.

Armed with that information my ex-wife went into full fight mode with the school. As a former governor she knew the system from the inside and has coerced the school into pushing for Dyslexic Friendly status. It has to be said that the school seem to have enjoyed this journey, despite the fact I have little doubt that it would not have happened without the pressure from my ex-wife.

My daughter now attends the local branch of Dyslexia Action once a week for a full morning of learning which she loves. Despite the fact that these classes are run by a charity my ex-wife and I still contribute towards the cost of my daughters attendance - which we can afford. I now worry more for those children that are not so lucky.

I know now that my daughter will grow and develop into whatever career she chooses. Her learning difficulties have given her a strength, determination and work effort that will see her through.

Love you E.

Post publication edit: I would encourage anyone that suspects their child to be dyslexic to seek help. If my daughter had not seen the report from the psychologist, that confirmed that she wasn't slow, I am sure that she would have began to crumble and cave in.

(I should point out that I shamelessly stole the title of this post from the book of the same name by Ronald Davies)