Man About Town has a strong opinion on whingers

Oxford Mail: Jeremy Smith Jeremy Smith

WHINGERS...I  hate them. Along with grumblers, grousers, bleaters, sulkers, whiners and moaners.

Life’s tough enough without people embellishing the obvious, but that doesn’t seem to deter some individuals.

After all, it’s an easy enough target – the weather here is always dodgy, pay and conditions last kept up with inflation in 1959, and we’re out of the World Cup.

It beats me why they should choose to wear misfortune like a badge of honour and only ever express it on the bus into town.

Of course, I should like to stress that I do not, nor ever have, seen life as a bunch of roses. But I have always believed that if life is proving (take your pick: a. boring; b. tedious; c. infuriating; d. unbearable; e. downright miserable; then you should at least try to change something, ANYTHING, to alleviate this tension.

The one type of character who always manages to make my teeth grate and my bladder tighten is the office grouch.

They hate their jobs though they’ve worked for the same employer most of their lives, and they always, always boast grandly about the revenge they’ll reap when they do finally leave. True, it rarely involves violence, but the use of the phrase ‘where the sun don’t shine’ is repeated.

Except they never, ever do leave. And not because they can’t; it’s just easier to mope and the gratification more immediate, than attempting to seek a new horizon.

I mention this because every morning I find myself bussing into Oxford beside, in front of, or behind someone who has a grouch against their job.

Last week, a woman on two consecutive days told her friend that if her manager “does that again, I’m going to walk.”

Curiously, I’ve heard this same individual say the same for the last two years. And frankly, as an eavesdropper, I’m bored.

In fact, if she weren’t bigger than me, I’d book her an appointment with Reed Recruitment.

There’s plenty I hate about my job (I’m not allowed to keep a bar at my desk, invent stories or use fake receipts on my expenses), but I can’t imagine how long I’d live if I bitched all day. You see, I care too much about my fellow passengers...

Send you opinions to Jeremy Smith jsmith@oxfordmail.co.uk

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