Don't you just love tiny victories? I could kiss tiny victories. A wet, sloppy big one right on the mouth. With lots of tongue. And even a bit of groping if it asked nicely.
Before you think I've paid a visit to a child's skull, let us start from the beginning.
Every year, my family spends July in London to escape the horrors of an Egyptian summer. And to spend grandpa's money at Fenwick, but that's beside the point. We can't help it if London forces you to shop hysterically. Seeing as this year, I am limited to a mere 21 days off a year, I hoarded and skimped and saved every single one of those days to get to go to London in July. I am not about to actively deny myself my Grandpa-given right to London in July.
Seeing as a month can be considered a long time in the working world (weird people these employed ones, aren't they), I figured I should give Mr. Boss Man ample notice of my month-long holiday and told him about it last week.
Mr. Boss Man: that's four weeks, not three.
Eureka: that's actually 19 of my 21 days.
Mr. Boss Man: no that's four weeks. Weekends are counted as part of the 21 days.
Eureka: no, they aren't. I get 21 working days off a year.
Mr. Boss Man: I don't know, let me check that out and get back to you.
Eureka marches off to her desk, huffy and plotting revenge if HR tell Mr. Boss Man she can't have her month in London.
Knowing full well that Mr. Boss Man won't bother to ask HR, I ask them myself. YES, I AM LEGALLY ENTITLED TO 21 WORKING DAYS OFF PER ANNUM. I told you; never try to tell me that I am wrong. You will lose that battle. You will be forced to crawl back under your sparsely furnished little rock with your short, bushy, poorly combed tail stuffed up your anus due to my insanely powerful boot's contact with your bottom.
Yes, I am supreme master and ruler of knowledge. Spaz is my only boss. I am heir to the Spaz throne of wisdom.
Yesterday, I told Mr. Boss Man all this. I told him to never argue with me again because it would just make him look bad in front of his bosses when I prove him wrong. I told him that I am Empress Eureka. He must bow and quiver with fear and reverence in my presence.
I said, "See here Mr. Boss Man, I am entitled to 21 days – net. I can take my days in London and still have 2 spare days to enjoy a long weekend if I so wish."
I really said, "Oh Great and Powerful and All-Knowing Mr. Boss Man, because you are so powerful and busy I called HR for you and asked about the 21 days. They said that they are 21 days net. Do you mind terribly if I enjoy my month in London or does that inconvenience you too much? If it does I will be happy to remain in Cairo to fan you with a large palm leaf and scratch your left buttock if you so desire."
Mr. Boss Man: no it's fine, take your month. That's all.
And I skipped out with my head held high and my month in London safe and sound.
Score one for Eureka!
Mark this on your calendars, it's probably the only point I will ever win.
14 years ago
5 comments:
mabrook on your moral victory
enjoy london
thank you anonymous :D
ummm, i have a strange feeling this guy is gonna get back at u real bad. but i'll just wait to see ur coming posts :P
ha! Article 47 of Labour Law 12 of the year 2003 states that you are only entitled to 21 days off a year when you have completed a year in your emlpoyer's service. well, have you? HAVE YOU?
p.s. you can also get however many days off your contract says. thank you for getting me to take a rare look into a legal code.
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