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Silly Job Titles


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Head of Technical Services.

 

So called because someone was brought into the business as Head of Residential Services (on an equivalent level of responsibility to me) while I was titled Technical Manager, and took half of the team I had been responsible for.

 

So I got upgraded. It was decided that Head of Technical Services was a bette shout than Head of Non-Residential services in case he was a no nothing gobshite and I might still have to do his job as well as my own to pull him out of the shit, or go to a meeting in his place.

 

Good call as it turns out.

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The ones that always got me were salesmens titles which were jumped up in order to gain credence with the people they were selling too.

 

Director of Strategic Sales

Director of Corporate Sales

Director of Key Accounts

 

Fucking lap it up they do. Problem is, when someone is a "director of..." it means fuck all. On the Board are you? No? Well stop going on about it then you tit

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A few years back as the newspaper industry grappled poorly with the challenges of new media, we were all laid off as reporters and had to re apply for jobs as 'multimedia journalists' which basically amounted to occasionally trying to film footage on a Nokia N96 phone which was so shit you had to hold it next to someone's face in order to hear what they were saying. People used to laugh at us all the time, you'd turn on North West tonight and see loads of paparazzi and cameras outside an event, and someone you knew filming on their phone like a tit. The films all looked like something out of the Blair Witch Project. The bigger offices got big screen tellies though to follow 'breaking news' but which usually just had cricket on.

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I worked for some shit tinpot back alley sales company selling industrial safety gear. I had absolutely no training whatsoever on any of the products so had absolutely no clue what I was selling. Every time I'd get close to any type of sale the owners son would just come in and tell me to put my prices up and I'd lose the deal. You'd have to have the negotiating skills of Kofi Annan to get some buyer from a small factory in Doncaster to buy a couple of hundred quids worth of rubber gloves. Despite this morale sapping job which I was paid only 9 grand a year and the odd commission you'd earn if you somehow managed to achieve your completely unrealistic target I was given a very professional business card with "accounts co-ordination manager".

 

I worked in the public enquiry office where asylum seekers came to have their interviews. As there was a massive amount of interviews taking place and loads of people wandering round they decided to get someone to sit in a room with a load of interpreters with a walkie talkie and make sure that they did what they were paid for and go to the interview room to do their job. This involved stopping them hiding in the bogs with a newspaper for half an hour and disappearing to have a ciggy or use their mobiles. The official job title for this was "Interpreter Liaison Officer".

 

In our place now we have "gatekeepers", "triage officers" "technical specialists".

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I worked for some shit tinpot back alley sales company selling industrial safety gear. I had absolutely no training whatsoever on any of the products so had absolutely no clue what I was selling. Every time I'd get close to any type of sale the owners son would just come in and tell me to put my prices up and I'd lose the deal. You'd have to have the negotiating skills of Kofi Annan to get some buyer from a small factory in Doncaster to buy a couple of hundred quids worth of rubber gloves. Despite this morale sapping job which I was paid only 9 grand a year and the odd commission you'd earn if you somehow managed to achieve your completely unrealistic target I was given a very professional business card with "accounts co-ordination manager".

 

I worked in the public enquiry office where asylum seekers came to have their interviews. As there was a massive amount of interviews taking place and loads of people wandering round they decided to get someone to sit in a room with a load of interpreters with a walkie talkie and make sure that they did what they were paid for and go to the interview room to do their job. This involved stopping them hiding in the bogs with a newspaper for half an hour and disappearing to have a ciggy or use their mobiles. The official job title for this was "Interpreter Liaison Officer".

 

In our place now we have "gatekeepers", "triage officers" "technical specialists".

Triage officers?

You work in a hospital A&E then?

Or I suspect not.

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Guest Pistonbroke

I'm a TWAT....No, I really am a TWAT. 

 

I'm working from home atm so I can make up my own title, I'm a "Translator With A Timeline." 

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My first full-time job was as a 'pearl diver' on the Isle of Man Boats. This involved two 3 foot deep sinks in front of you in a 'buffet', one with soapy water for washing piled-high dishes and one with clean water for rinsing them. Unfortunateltly, you didn'y get paid an 'hourly rate' as I recall I had 96 hours in on my first week, instead you got paid in 'trippage', how many journey's you went from Douglas to Liverpool, Belfast, Dublin, Ardrossan.

At that particular time (1975) during the season they were pretty much a constantly busy shuttle service and you weren't allowed days off. Double shifts over the weekend, turn to Friday morning 7am, kinock off Monday morning 7am. I celebrated my 16th birthday 3 weeks later by being thrown naked over the side into the Lagan. I'm not doing that again.

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