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Bleed

Once upon a time, there was a computer programmer.

He worked in a niche industry, doing stuff that nobody largely cared about. Working in such a business meant that he know lots of things that other people didn't - and boy did he make a big deal about it. This meant that he got on people's nerves quite a lot. This was because he knew that if people were nasty to him, he could put a stop to their financial systems overnight, causing chaos aplenty. He wasn't a very nice person.

For a little person, he had quite a lot of power. He knew this and irritated all who met him. Everyone did lots of deep breathing, counting to ten and muttering under their breath. People called encounters with him character building experiences.

He asked for lots of money, lots of times. When his employer eventually snapped and declined his repeated blackmail requests, he left the company and took up a contract elsewhere, working freelance.

Despite the threat of impending financial ruin, most people breathed a sigh of relief, mostly because they didn't want to work with a git.

Times changed, seasons passed and employees moved on. The git became a distant memory.

One such employee who had suffered the wrath of the git was now working for a new company that had nothing to do with computer programming at all. He was now a manager at a very large institution that employed lots of temporary agency staff. On the whole, things were good and the git had been consigned to the archives of his mind.

One evening, the manager was working away, signing off time-sheets for a long queue of temporary staff. In contrast to the permanent staff, the agency chaps usually worked exceptional amounts of hours, because on the whole they were skint and had to make the most of the work they got.

That evening, the git just so happened to be one of the temps, waiting in line for his payment to be approved. Times had obviously been hard upon the chap, who had now resorted to working 70 hour weeks.

As the git and the manager met again, for the first time in ten years, there was an exchange of knowing looks and a realisation that the balance of power had changed.

"Aw'right?", they both said.

Neither answered.

It was the sort of crap question that everyone knows you don't need to answer - because everyone knows the answer anyway. It's plain to see. If you were a firm believer in karma, this would endorse your beliefs - well, unless you think he'd come back as a slug. It was a humbling moment for the git.

Once the queue had been dealt with, smalltalk was made and the git was subsequently never seen again.

There is a reason for this story. It's because I've had to work with another rather unsavoury character - and they've just left. Common sense dictates a few things. If you live in the South-West, you'll realise that there aren't many decent employers around who pay a reasonable wage. I reckon that it's possible to do the rounds of the lot easily during your employment lifespan.

And should I ever bump into Git Version 2.0 again - and chances are I will, I shall make damn sure that he bleeds humility.

Parable bit: Don't piss off your co-workers too much, you never know where you might end up.

Here endeth the sermon.
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